CHAPTER XLIII
THE LAST MEETING IN MILAN
Barto Rizzo had silence about him without having to ask for it, when hefollowed Violetta into Countess Ammiani's saloon of reception. Carlo wasleaning over his mother's chair, holding Vittoria's wrist across it,and so enclosing her, while both young faces were raised to the bowedforehead of the countess. They stood up. Violetta broke through theformal superlatives of an Italian greeting. "Speak to me alone," shemurmured for Carlo's ear and glancing at Barto: "Here is a madman; amild one, I trust." She contrived to show that she was not responsiblefor his intrusion. Countess Ammiani gathered Vittoria in her arms; Carlostepped a pace before them. Terror was on the venerable lady's face,wrath on her son's. As he fronted Barto, he motioned a finger to thecurtain hangings, and Violetta, quick at reading signs, found his baresword there. "But you will not want it," she remarked, handing the hiltto him, and softly eyeing the impression of her warm touch on the steelas it passed.
"Carlo, thou son of Paolo! Countess Marcellina, wife of a true patriot!stand aside, both of you. It is between the Countess Alessandra andmyself," so the man commenced, with his usual pomp of interjection."Swords and big eyes,--are they things to stop me?" Barto laughedscornfully. He had spoken in the full roll of his voice, and the swordwas hard back for the thrust.
Vittoria disengaged herself from the countess. "Speak to me," she said,dismayed by the look of what seemed an exaltation of madness in Barto'svisage, but firm as far as the trembling of her limbs would let her be.
He dropped to her feet and kissed them.
"Emilia Alessandra Belloni! Vittoria! Countess Alessandra Ammiani! pityme. Hear this:--I hated you as the devil is hated. Yesterday I wokeup in prison to hear that I must adore you. God of all the pits ofpunishment! was there ever one like this? I had to change heads."
It was the language of a distorted mind, and lamentable to hear when asob shattered his voice.
"Am I mad?" he asked piteously, clasping his temples.
"You are as we are, if you weep," said Vittoria, to sooth him.
"Then I have been mad!" he cried, starting. "I knew you a wickedvirgin--signora contessa, confess to me, marriage has changed you. Hasit not changed you? In the name of the Father of the Saints, help me outof it:--my brain reels backwards. You were false, but marriage--It actsin this way with you women; yes, that we know--you were married, and yousaid, 'Now let us be faithful.' Did you not say that? I am forgiving,though none think it. You have only to confess. If you will not,--oh!"He smote his face, groaning.
Carlo spoke a stern word in an undertone; counselling him to be gone.
"If you will not--what was she to do?" Barto cut the question tointerrogate his strayed wits. "Look at me, Countess Alessandra. I was inthe prison. I heard that my Rosellina had a tight heart. She criedfor her master, poor heathen, and I sprang out of the walls to her.There--there--she lay like a breathing board; a woman with a body like acoffin half alive; not an eye to show; nothing but a body and a whisper.She perished righteously, for she disobeyed. She acted without myorders: she dared to think! She will be damned, for she would havevengeance before she went. She glorified you over me--over Barto Rizzo.Oh! she shocked my soul. But she is dead, and I am her slave. Every wordwas of you. Take another head, Barto Rizzo your old one was mad: shesaid that to my soul. She died blessing you above me. I saw the last bitof life go up from her mouth blessing you. It's heard by this time inheaven, and it's written. Then I have had two years of madness. If sheis right, I was wrong; I was a devil of hell. I know there's an eyegiven to dying creatures, and she looked with it, and she said, the soulof Rinaldo Guidascarpi, her angel, was glorifying you; and she thankedthe sticking of her heart, when she tried to stab you, poor fool!"
Carlo interrupted: "Now go; you have said enough."
"No, let him speak," said Vittoria. She supposed that Barto was going tosay that he had not given the order for her assassination. "You do notwish me dead, signore?"
"Nothing that is not standing in my way, signora contessa," said Barto;and his features blazed with a smile of happy self-justification. "Ihave killed a sentinel this night: Providence placed him there. I wishfor no death, but I punish, and--ah! the cursed sight of the woman whocalls me mad for two years. She thrusts a bar of iron in an engine atwork, and says, Work on! work on! Were you not a traitress? CountessAlessandra, were you not once a traitress? Oh! confess it; save my head.Reflect, dear lady! it's cruel to make a man of a saintly sinceritylook back--I count the months--seventeen months! to look back seventeenmonths, and see that his tongue was a clapper,--his will, his eyes,his ears, all about him, everything, stirred like a pot on the fire. Itraced you. I saw your treachery. I said--I, I am her Day of Judgement.She shall look on me and perish, struck down by her own treachery.Were my senses false to me? I had lived in virtuous fidelity tomy principles. None can accuse me. Why were my senses false, if myprinciples were true? I said you were a traitress. I saw it from thefirst. I had the divine contempt for women. My distrust of a woman wasthe eye of this brain, and I said--Follow her, dog her, find her out! Iproved her false; but her devilish cunning deceived every other manin the world. Oh! let me bellow, for it's me she proves the mass ofcorruption! Tomorrow I die, and if I am mad now, what sort of a curse isthat?
"Now to-morrow is an hour--a laugh! But if I've not been shot from atrue bow--if I've been a sham for two years--if my name, and nature,bones, brains, were all false things hunting a shadow, CountessAlessandra, see the misery of Barto Rizzo! Look at those two years, andsay that I had my head. Answer me, as you love your husband: are youheart and soul with him in the fresh fight for Lombardy?" He saidthis with a look penetrating and malignant, and then by a sudden flashpitifully entreating.
Carlo feared to provoke, revolted from the thought of slaying him. "Yes,yes," he interposed, "my wife is heart and soul in it. Go."
Barto looked from him to her with the eyes of a dog that awaits anorder.
Victoria gathered her strength, and said: "I am not."
"It is her answer!" Barto roared, and from deep dejection his wholecountenance radiated. "She says it--she might give the lie to a saint! Iwas never mad. I saw the spot, and put my finger on it, and not a madmancan do that. My two years are my own. Mad now, for, see!
"I worship the creature. She is not heart and soul in it. She is not init at all. She is a little woman, a lovely thing, a toy, a cantatrice.Joy to the big heart of Barto Rizzo! I am for Brescia!"
He flung his arm like a banner, and ran out.
Carlo laid his sword on a table. Vittoria's head was on his mother'sbosom.
The hour was too full of imminent grief for either of the three toregard this scene as other than a gross intrusion ended.
"Why did you deny my words?" Carlo said coldly.
"I could not lie to make him wretched," she replied in a low murmur.
"Do you know what that 'I am for Brescia' means? He goes to stir thecity before a soul is ready."
"I warned you that I should speak the truth of myself to-night,dearest."
"You should discern between speaking truth to a madman, and to a man."
Vittoria did not lift her eyes, and Carlo beckoned to Violetta, withwhom he left the room.
"He is angry," Countess Ammiani murmured. "My child, you cannotdeal with men in a fever unless you learn to dissemble; and there isexemption for doing it, both in plain sense, and in our religion. If Icould arrest him, I would speak boldly. It is, alas! vain to dream ofthat; and it is therefore an unkindness to cause him irritation.Carlo has given way to you by allowing you to be here when his friendsassemble. He knows your intention to speak. He has done more than wouldhave been permitted by my husband to me, though I too was well-beloved."
Vittoria continued silent that her head might be cherished where it lay.She was roused from a stupor by hearing new voices. Laura's lips camepressing to her cheek. Colonel Corte, Agostino, Marco Sana, and AngeloGuidascarpi, saluted her. Angelo she kissed.
"That la
dy should be abed and asleep," Corte was heard to say.
The remark passed without notice. Angelo talked apart with Vittoria. Hehad seen the dying of the woman whose hand had been checked in the actof striking by the very passion of animal hatred which raised it. Hespoke of her affectionately, attesting to the fact that Barto Rizzo hadnot prompted her guilt. Vittoria moaned at a short outline that he gaveof the last minutes between those two, in which her name was dreadfullyand fatally, incomprehensibly prominent.
All were waiting impatiently for Carlo's return.
When he appeared he informed his mother that the Countess d'Isorellawould remain in the house that night, and his mother passed out to herabhorred guest, who, for the time at least, could not be doing furthermischief.
It was a meeting for the final disposition of things before theoutbreak. Carlo had begun to speak when Corte drew his attention to thefact that ladies were present, at which Carlo put out his hand as ifintroducing them, and went on speaking.
"Your wife is here," said Corte.
"My wife and signora Piaveni," Carlo rejoined. "I have consented to mywife's particular wish to be present."
"The signora Piaveni's opinions are known: your wife's are not."
"Countess Alessandra shares mine," said Laura, rather tremulously.
Countess Ammiani at the same time returned and took Vittoria's hand andpressed it with force. Carlo looked at them both.
"I have to ask your excuses, gentlemen. My wife, my mother, and signoraPiaveni, have served the cause we worship sufficiently to claim aright--I am sorry to use such phrases; you understand my meaning. Permitthem to remain. I have to tell you that Barto Rizzo has been here: hehas started for Brescia. I should have had to kill him to stop him--ameasure that I did not undertake."
"Being your duty!" remarked Corte.
Agostino corrected him with a sarcasm.
"I cannot allow the presence of ladies to exclude a comment on manifestindifference," said Corte. "Pass on to the details, if you have any."
"The details are these," Carlo resumed, too proud to show a shadeof self-command; "my cousin Angelo leaves Milan before morning. You,Colonel Corte, will be in Bergamo at noon to-morrow. Marco and Angelowill await my coming in Brescia, where we shall find Giulio and therest. I join them at five on the following afternoon, and my arrivalsignals the revolt. We have decided that the news from the king's armyis good."
A perceptible shudder in Vittoria's frame at this concluding sentencecaught Corte's eye.
"Are you dissatisfied with that arrangement?" he addressed her boldly.
"I am, Colonel Corte," she replied. So simple was the answering tone ofher voice that Corte had not a word.
"It is my husband who is going," Vittoria spoke on steadily; "him I amprepared to sacrifice, as I am myself. If he thinks it right to throwhimself into Brescia, nothing is left for me but to thank him for havingdone me the honour to consult me. His will is firm. I trust to Godthat he is wise. I look on him now as one of many brave men whose livesbelong to Italy, and if they all are misdirected and perish, we have nomore; we are lost. The king is on the Ticino; the Chief is in Rome. Idesire to entreat you to take counsel before you act in anticipation ofthe king's fortune. I see that it is a crushed life in Lombardy. In Romethere is one who can lead and govern. He has suffered and is calm.He calls to you to strengthen his hands. My prayer to you is to takecounsel. I know the hour is late; but it is not too late for wisdom.Forgive me if I am not speaking humbly. Brescia is but Brescia; Romeis Italy. I have understood little of my country until these last days,though I have both talked and sung of her glories. I know that a deepduty binds you to Bergamo and to Brescia--poor Milan we must not thinkof. You are not personally pledged to Rome: yet Rome may have thegreatest claims on you. The heart of our country is beginning to beatthere. Colonel Corte! signor Marco! my Agostino! my cousin Angelo! it isnot a woman asking for the safety of her husband, but one of the bloodof Italy who begs to offer you her voice, without seeking to disturbyour judgement."
She ceased.
"Without seeking to disturb their judgement!" cried Laura. "Why not,when the judgement is in error?"
To Laura's fiery temperament Vittoria's speech had been feebleness.She was insensible to that which the men felt conveyed to them by theabsence of emotion in the language of a woman so sorrowfully placed."Wait," she said, "wait for the news from Carlo Alberto, if youdetermine to play at swords and guns in narrow streets." She spoke longand vehemently, using irony, coarse and fine, with the eloquence whichwas her gift. In conclusion she apostrophized Colonel Corte as one whohad loved him might have done. He was indeed that figure of indomitablestrength to which her spirit, exhausted by intensity of passion, clungmore than to any other on earth, though she did not love him, scarcelyliked him.
Corte asked her curiously--for she had surprised and vexed his softerside--why she distinguished him with such remarkable phrases only todeclare her contempt for him.
"It's the flag whipping the flag-pole," murmured Agostino; and he nowspoke briefly in support of the expedition to Rome; or at least infavour of delay until the King of Sardinia had gained a battle. While hewas speaking, Merthyr entered the room, and behind him a messenger whobrought word that Bergamo had risen.
The men drew hurriedly together, and Countess Ammiani, Vittoria andLaura stood ready to leave them.
"You will give me, five minutes?" Vittoria whispered to her husband, andhe nodded.
"Merthyr," she said, passing him, "can I have your word that you willnot go from me?"
Merthyr gave her his word after he had looked on her face.
"Send to me every two hours, that I may know you are near," she added;"do not fear waking me. Or, no, dear friend; why should I have anyconcealment from you? Be not a moment absent, if you would not have mefall to the ground a second time: follow me."
Even as he hesitated, for he had urgent stuff to communicate to Carlo,he could see a dreadful whiteness rising on her face, darkening thecircles of her eyes.
"It's life or death, my dearest, and I am bound to live," she said. Hervoice sprang up from tears.
Merthyr turned and tried in vain to get a hearing among the excited,voluble men. They shook his hand, patted his shoulder, and counselledhim to leave them. He obtained Carlo's promise that he would not quitthe house without granting him an interview; after which he passed outto Vittoria, where Countess Ammiani and Laura sat weeping by the door.