CHAPTER XII
THE BRONZE BUTTERFLY
The two women were facing one another in a painful silence when CarloAmmiani was announced to them. He entered with a rapid stride, andstruck his hands together gladly at sight of Vittoria.
Laura met his salutation by lifting the accusing butterfly attached toVittoria's dress.
'Yes; I expected it,' he said, breathing quick from recent exertion.'They are kind--they give her a personal warning. Sometimes the daggerheads the butterfly. I have seen the mark on the Play-bills affixed tothe signorina's name.'
'What does it mean?' said Laura, speaking huskily, with her head bentover the bronze insect. 'What can it mean?' she asked again, and lookedup to meet a covert answer.
'Unpin it.' Vittoria raised her arms as if she felt the thing to beenveloping her.
The signora loosened the pin from its hold; but dreading lest shethereby sacrificed some possible clue to the mystery, she hesitated inher action, and sent an intolerable shiver of spite through Vittoria'sframe, at whom she gazed in a cold and cruel way, saying, 'Don'ttremble.' And again, 'Is it the doing of that 'garritrice magrezza,'whom you call 'la Lazzeruola?' Speak. Can you trace it to her hand? Whoput the plague-mark upon you?'
Vittoria looked steadily away from her.
'It means just this,' Carlo interposed; 'there! now it 's off; and,signorina, I entreat you to think nothing of it,--it means that any onewho takes a chief part in the game we play, shall and must provokeall fools, knaves, and idiots to think and do their worst. They can'timagine a pure devotion. Yes, I see--"Sei sospetta." They would writetheir 'Sei sospetta' upon St. Catherine in the Wheel. Put it out of yourmind. Pass it.'
'But they suspect her; and why do they suspect her?' Laura questionedvehemently. 'I ask, is it a Conservatorio rival, or the brand of one ofthe Clubs? She has no answer.'
'Observe.' Carlo laid the paper under her eyes.
Three angles were clipped, the fourth was doubled under. He turned itback and disclosed the initials B. R. 'This also is the work of ourman-devil, as I thought. I begin to think that we shall be eternallythwarted, until we first clear our Italy of its vermin. Here is aweazel, a snake, a tiger, in one. They call him the Great Cat. Hefancies himself a patriot,--he is only a conspirator. I denounce him,but he gets the faith of people, our Agostino among them, I believe. Theenergy of this wretch is terrific. He has the vigour of a fasting saint.Myself--I declare it to you, signora, with shame, I know what it is tofear this man. He has Satanic blood, and the worst is, that the Chieftrusts him.'
'Then, so do I,' said Laura.
'And I,' Vittoria echoed her.
A sudden squeeze beset her fingers. 'And I trust you,' Laura said toher. 'But there has been some indiscretion. My child, wait: give noheed to me, and have no feelings. Carlo, my friend--my husband'sboy--brother-in-arms! let her teach you to be generous. She must havebeen indiscreet. Has she friends among the Austrians? I have one, andit is known, and I am not suspected. But, has she? What have you said ordone that might cause them to suspect you? Speak, Sandra mia.'
It was difficult for Vittoria to speak upon the theme, which made herappear as a criminal replying to a charge. At last she said, 'English:I have no foreign friends but English. I remember nothing that I havedone.--Yes, I have said I thought I might tremble if I was led out to beshot.'
'Pish! tush!' Laura checked her. 'They flog women, they do not shootthem. They shoot men.'
'That is our better fortune,' said Ammiani.
'But, Sandra, my sister,' Laura persisted now, in melodious coaxingtones. 'Can you not help us to guess? I am troubled: I am stung. It isfor your sake I feel it so. Can't you imagine who did it, for instance?'
'No, signora, I cannot,' Vittoria replied.
'You can't guess?'
I cannot help you.'
'You will not!' said the irritable woman. 'Have you noticed no onepassing near you?'
'A woman brushed by me as I entered this street. I remember no one else.And my Beppo seized a man who was spying on me, as he said. That is allI can remember.'
Vittoria turned her face to Ammiani.
'Barto Rizzo has lived in England,' he remarked, half to himself. 'Didyou come across a man called Barto Rizzo there, signorina? I suspect himto be the author of this.'
At the name of Barto Rizzo, Laura's eyes widened, awakening a memory inAmmiani; and her face had a spectral wanness.
'I must go to my chamber,' she said. 'Talk of it together. I will bewith you soon.'
She left them.
Ammiani bent over to Vittoria's ear. 'It was this man who sent thewarning to Giacomo, the signora's husband, which he despised, and whichwould have saved him.
It is the only good thing I know of Barto Rizzo. Pardon her.'
'I do,' said the girl, now weeping.
'She has evidently a rooted superstitious faith in these revolutionarysign-marks. They are contagious to her. She loves you, and believes inyou, and will kneel to you for forgiveness by-and-by. Her misery is adisease. She thinks now, "If my husband had given heed to the warning!"
'Yes, I see how her heart works,' said Vittoria. 'You knew her husband,Signor Carlo?'
'I knew him. I served under him. He was the brother of my love. I shallhave no other.'
Vittoria placed her hand for Ammiani to take it. He joined his own tothe fevered touch. The heart of the young man swelled most ungovernably,but the perils of the morrow were imaged by him, circling her as with atragic flame, and he had no word for his passion.
The door opened, when a noble little boy bounded into the room; followedby a little girl in pink and white, like a streamer in the steps ofher brother. With shouts, and with arms thrown forward, they flungthemselves upon Vittoria, the boy claiming all her lap, and the girlstruggling for a share of the kingdom. Vittoria kissed them, crying,'No, no, no, Messer Jack, this is a republic, and not an empire, and youare to have no rights of "first come"; and Amalia sits on one knee, andyou on one knee, and you sit face to face, and take hands, and swear tobe satisfied.'
'Then I desire not to be called an English Christian name, and you willcall me Giacomo,' said the boy.
Vittoria sang, in mountain-notes, 'Giacomo!--Giacomo--Giac-giac-giac..como!'
The children listened, glistening up at her, and in conjunction jumpedand shouted for more.
'More?' said Vittoria; 'but is the Signor Carlo no friend of ours? anddoes he wear a magic ring that makes him invisible?'
'Let the German girl go to him,' said Giacomo, and strained his throatto reach at kisses.
'I am not a German girl,' little Amalia protested, refusing to go toCarlo Ammiani under that stigma, though a delightful haven of open armsand knees, and filliping fingers, invited her.
'She is not a German girl, O Signor Giacomo,' said Vittoria, in thetheatrical manner.
'She has a German name.'
'It's not a German name!' the little girl shrieked.
Giacomo set Amalia to a miauling tune.
'So, you hate the Duchess of Graatli!' said Vittoria. 'Very well. Ishall remember.'
The boy declared that he did not hate his mother's friend and sister'sgodmother: he rather liked her, he really liked her, he loved her; buthe loathed the name 'Amalia,' and could not understand why the duchesswould be a German. He concluded by miauling 'Amalia' in the triumph ofcontempt.
'Cat, begone!' said Vittoria, promptly setting him down on his feet, andlittle Amalia at the same time perceiving that practical sympathy onlyrequired a ring at the bell for it to come out, straightway pulled thewires within herself, and emitted a doleful wail that gave her solepossession of Vittoria's bosom, where she was allowed to bring her tearsto an end very comfortingly. Giacomo meanwhile, his body bent in anarch, plucked at Carlo Ammiani's wrists with savagely playful tugs, andtook a stout boy's lesson in the art of despising what he coveted. Hehad only to ask for pardon. Finding it necessary, he came shyly upto Vittoria, who put Amalia in his way, kissing whom, he was himselftenderly kissed.
'But girls should not cry!' Vittoria reproved the little woman.
'Why do you cry?' asked Amalia simply.
'See! she has been crying.' Giacomo appropriated the discovery, perforceof loudness, after the fashion of his sex.
'Why does our Vittoria cry?' both the children clamoured.
'Because your mother is such a cruel sister to her,' said Laura, passingup to them from the doorway. She drew Vittoria's head against herbreast, looked into her eyes, and sat down among them. Vittoria sangone low-toned soft song, like the voice of evening, before they weredismissed to their beds. She could not obey Giacomo's demand for amartial air, and had to plead that she was tired.
When the children had gone, it was as if a truce had ended. The signoraand Ammiani fell to a brisk counterchange of questions relating to themysterious suspicion which had fallen upon Vittoria. Despite Laura'slove for her, she betrayed her invincible feeling that there must besome grounds for special or temporary distrust.
'The lives that hang on it knock at me here,' she said, touching underher throat with fingers set like falling arrows.
But Ammiani, who moved in the centre of conspiracies, met at theircouncils, and knew their heads, and frequently combated their schemes,was not possessed by the same profound idea of their potential commandof hidden facts and sovereign wisdom. He said, 'We trust too much to oneman. We are compelled to trust him, but we trust too much to him. I meanthis man, this devil, Barto Rizzo. Signora, signora, he must be spokenof. He has dislocated the plot. He is the fanatic of the revolution,and we are trusting him as if he had full sway of reason. What is theconsequence? The Chief is absent he is now, as I believe, in Genoa. Allthe plan for the rising is accurate; the instruments are ready, andwe are paralyzed. I have been to three houses to-night, and where, twohours previously, there was union and concert, all are irresolute anddivided. I have hurried off a messenger to the Chief. Until we hear fromhim, nothing can be done. I left Ugo Corte storming against us Milanese,threatening, as usual, to work without us, and have a Bergamasc andBrescian Republic of his own. Count Medole is for a week's postponement.Agostino smiles and chuckles, and talks his poetisms.'
'Until you hear from the Chief, nothing is to be done?' Laura saidpassionately. 'Are we to remain in suspense? Impossible! I cannotbear it. We have plenty of arms in the city. Oh, that we had cannon!I worship cannon! They are the Gods of battle! But if we surprise thecitadel;--one true shock of alarm makes a mob of an army. I have heardmy husband say so. Let there be no delay. That is my word.'
'But, signora, do you see that all concert about the signal is lost?'
'My friend, I see something'; Laura nodded a significant half-meaningat him. 'And perhaps it will be as well. Go at once. See that anothersignal is decided upon. Oh! because we are ready--ready. Inaction nowis uttermost anguish--kills the heart. What number of the white butchershave we in the city to-night?'
'They are marching in at every gate. I saw a regiment of Hungarianscoming up the Borgo della Stella. Two fresh squadrons of Uhlans in theCorso Francesco. In the Piazza d'Armi artillery is encamped.'
'The better for Brescia, for Bergamo, for Padua, for Venice!' exclaimedLaura. 'There is a limit to their power. We Milanese can match them. Fordays and days I have had a dream lying in my bosom that Milan was soonto breathe. Go, my brother; go to Barto Rizzo; gather him and CountMedole, Agostino, and Colonel Corte--to whom I kiss my fingers--gatherthem together, and squeeze their brains for the one spark of divine firein this darkness which must exist where there are so many thorough menbent upon a sacred enterprise. And, Carlo,'--Laura checked her nervousvoice, 'don't think I am declaiming to you from one of my "MidnightLamps."' (She spoke of the title of her pamphlets to the Italianpeople.) 'You feel among us women very much as Agostino and ColonelCorte feel when the boy Carlo airs his impetuosities in their presence.Yes, my fervour makes a philosopher of you. That is human nature. Pityme, pardon me, and do my bidding.'
The comparison of Ammiani's present sentiments to those of the elders ofthe conspiracy, when his mouth was open in their midst, was severe andmasterful, for the young man rose instantly without a thought in hishead.
He remarked: 'I will tell them that the signorina does not give thesignal.'
'Tell them that the name she has chosen shall be Vittoria still; butsay, that she feels a shadow of suspicion to be an injunction upon herat such a crisis, and she will serve silently and humbly until she isrightly known, and her time comes. She is willing to appear before them,and submit to interrogation. She knows her innocence, and knowing thatthey work for the good of the country, she, if it is their will, iscontent to be blotted out of all participation:--all! She abjures allfor the common welfare. Say that. And say, to-morrow night the risingmust be. Oh! to-morrow night! It is my husband to me.'
Laura Piaveni crossed her arms upon her bosom.
Ammiani was moving from them with a downward face, when a bell-note ofVittoria's voice arrested him.
'Stay, Signor Carlo; I shall sing to-morrow night.'
The widow heard her through that thick emotion which had just closedher' speech with its symbolical sensuous rapture. Divining oppositionfiercely, like a creature thwarted when athirst for the wells, she gaveher a terrible look, and then said cajolingly, as far as absence ofsweetness could make the tones pleasant, 'Yes, you will sing, but youwill not sing that song.'
'It is that song which I intend to sing, signora.'
'When it is interdicted?'
'There is only one whose interdict I can acknowledge.'
'You will dare to sing in defiance of me?'
'I dare nothing when I simply do my duty.'
Ammiani went up to the window, and leaned there, eyeing the lightsleading down to the crowding Piazza. He wished that he were among thecrowd, and might not hear those sharp stinging utterances coming fromLaura, and Vittoria's unwavering replies, less frequent, but firmer, andgravely solid. Laura spent her energy in taunts, but Vittoria spokeonly of her resolve, and to the point. It was, as his military instinctsframed the simile, like the venomous crackling of skirmishing riflesbefore a fortress, that answered slowly with its volume of sound andsweeping shot. He had the vision of himself pleading to secure hersafety, and in her hearing, on the Motterone, where she had seemed sosimple a damsel, albeit nobly enthusiastic: too fair, too gentle to bestationed in any corner of the conflict at hand. Partly abased by theremembrance of his brainless intercessions then, and of the laughterwhich had greeted them, and which the signora had recently recalled, itwas nevertheless not all in self-abasement (as the momentary recognitionof a splendid character is commonly with men) that he perceived thestature of Vittoria's soul. Remembering also what the Chief had spokenof women, Ammiani thought 'Perhaps he has known one such as she.' Thepassion of the young man's heart magnified her image. He did not wonderto see the signora acknowledge herself worsted in the conflict.
'She talks like the edge of a sword,' cried Laura, desperately, anddropped into a chair. 'Take her home, and convince her, if you can,on the way, Carlo. I go to the Duchess of Graatli to-night. She has areception. Take this girl home. She says she will sing: she obeys theChief, and none but the Chief. We will not suppose that it is her desireto shine. She is suspected; she is accused; she is branded; there is nogeneral faith in her; yet she will hold the torch to-morrow night:--andwhat ensues? Some will move, some turn back, some run headlong over totreachery, some hang irresolute all are for the shambles! The blood ison her head.'
'I will excuse myself to you another time,' said Vittoria. 'I love you,Signora Laura.'
'You do, you do, or you would not think of excusing yourself to me,'said Laura. 'But now, go. You have cut me in two. Carlo Ammiani maysucceed where I have failed, and I have used every weapon; enough tomake a mean creature hate me for life and kiss me with transports. Doyour best, Carlo, and let it be your utmost.'
It remained for Ammiani to assure her that their views were different.
'The signorina persists in her det
ermination to carry out the programmeindicated by the Chief, and refuses to be diverted from her path by thefalse suspicions of subordinates.' He employed a sententious phraseologyinstinctively, as men do when they are nervous, as well as when theyjustify the cynic's definition of the uses of speech. 'The signorina is,in my opinion, right. If she draws back, she publicly accepts the blotupon her name. I speak against my own feelings and my wishes.'
'Sandra, do you hear?' exclaimed Laura. 'This is a friend'sinterpretation of your inconsiderate wilfulness.'
Vittoria was content to reply, 'The Signor Carlo judges of medifferently.'
'Go, then, and be fortified by him in this headstrong folly.' Lauramotioned her hand, and laid it on her face.
Vittoria knelt and enclosed her with her arms, kissing her knees.
'Beppo waits for me at the house-door,' she said; but Carlo chose not tohear of this shadow-like Beppo.
'You have nothing to say for her save that she clears her name by givingthe signal,' Laura burst out on his temperate 'Addio,' and started toher feet. 'Well, let it be so. Fruitless blood again! A 'rivederla' toyou both. To-night I am in the enemy's camp. They play with opencards. Amalia tells me all she knows by what she disguises. I may learnsomething. Come to me to-morrow. My Sandra, I will kiss you. Theseshudderings of mine have no meaning.'
The signora embraced her, and took Ammiani's salute upon her fingers.
'Sour fingers!' he said. She leaned her cheek to him, whispering, 'Icould easily be persuaded to betray you.'
He answered, 'I must have some merit in not betraying myself.'
'At each elbow!' she laughed. 'You show the thumps of an electricbattery at each elbow, and expect your Goddess of lightnings not to seethat she moves you. Go. You have not sided with me, and I am right, andI am a woman. By the way, Sandra mia, I would beg the loan of your Beppofor two hours or less.'
Vittoria placed Beppo at her disposal.
'And you run home to bed,' continued Laura. 'Reason comes to youobstinate people when you are left alone for a time in the dark.'
She hardly listened to Vittoria's statement that the chief singers inthe new opera were engaged to attend a meeting at eleven at night at thehouse of the maestro Rocco Ricci.