Little Novels of Italy Part 13

For answer the blus.h.i.+ng boy looked appealingly at Alessandro, with eyes so deeply, limpidly, searchingly blue, with lips so tenderly parted, with a smile fluttering so timidly, and limbs so drooping under their disguise, yet so quickly transformed from frightened lad's to bashful beauty's, that--

"Saints of the Heavenly Court--ah, G.o.d of Love!" cried Alessandro; and the Sub-Prefect fell upon his knees before the goatherd.

Later you might have seen that same goatherd enthroned in the hermit's armchair, his hands locked in his lap, his legs modestly disposed, his head gracefully bowed, a blush on his burnt cheeks, his long lashes casting a shade, his breath coming and going with a pretty haste--and at his feet a splendid gentleman, booted and cuira.s.sed, who poured out voluble a.s.surances of eternal respect, of love undying, of the sovranty of Venus Urania, and the communion of beautiful minds.

"I will see you again; yes, I will certainly see you again, since you so desire it," said Silvestro, after a good deal of this. "And I will give you what you ask, if it is in my power. But you must trust me so far: you must go away from here, and wait till I send word. I shall owe you every grat.i.tude, every reward I can give you. Now, however, you must let me go; and I must take with me the goatherd, who is as innocent of the Jew's death as I am."

"Ah, I will do all that you wish," sighed Alessandro. "Sacred lady, I will do it. But surely you will have pity upon a humble slave who has served you long and faithfully, and now is putting himself in peril for your pleasure. Pay me my poor fee, lady. Enrich me boundlessly with what costs you so little."

So he urged, until--

"Well," says Silvestro, "I will do it. Rise up, Messere; take what you will."

Messer Alessandro shut his eyes, and slowly rose to his feet. Having kissed the goatherd's hand, he very delicately kissed the goatherd's proffered cheek. "I am paid immeasurably, most holy one," he said. "Lead now; I will do what you desire."

Out sped Silvestro into the wood, the Sub-Prefect bareheaded behind him.

In a glade not far from the hermitage sat the two archers. The horses were tethered to one tree, Castracane to another. Seeing their chief, the men sprang to attention; their astonishment at what followed was no greater than Castracane's. Silvestro (that timid slave), now as bold as bra.s.s, walked straight to him, the Sub-Prefect tiptoeing behind.

"Loose him, Signore," says Silvestro.

The Sub-Prefect with a knife cut his bonds. "Your will is done."

"Thank you, Signor Alessandro: G.o.d be with you. Come, Pilade."

Silvestro took Castracane by the hand, but not before the gentleman had kissed his own with profound respect. Then Silvestro led his friend away through the trees, and the Sub-Prefect was understood to say--

"We have been on the wrong scent, men. Mount. To the city--Avanti!"

"What's all this? Whither now?" stammered Castracane.

Silvestro squeezed his hand. "Oh, dearest, let us go to the cave--let us go to the cave on the hill!"

Castracane felt his friend trembling. Trembling is infectious; he began to tremble too.

"Yes, yes, we will go to our cave," he agreed in a quick whisper.

X

CYMON FINDS HIS IPHIGENIA

They struggled upwards through the bushwood and starry flowers. It was a scented night, the air heavy with the burden of midsummer. The fireflies spread a jewelled web before their faces, great white moths flapped and droned about them. On they pushed, their hands locked through all hazards of brake or briar: neither would let go for a whole world, but Silvestro was always in front, leading Castracane for this once. One knew the way as well as another; but Silvestro led it. They rounded the hill-top.

"Here we are at last," said Silvestro. "Let us sit here, and look at the splendour of the night. Oh, Pilade! Oh, dear friend! How couldst thou do so much for me?"

"What else could I do?" said he gruffly. "You never killed the pig-Jew."

"Nor did you, Pilade. Tell me why you gave yourself up."

"Because you didn't do it, of course."

"But you didn't do it either?"

"Well, but I knocked you down."

"Did you do it because of that; or because--because you like me?"

Pilade grunted. "Suppose I did?"

Silvestro sighed, and leaned his head on his friend's shoulder.

"O wondrous night!" said he, whispering. "Look, the stars are like moons."

It was certainly a wonderful night--a night of enormous silence, of great steady stars, of gold-dusted air, of a sky like a purple dome encrusted with jewelled lights. The two boys sat together, blinking at so much speechless glory. Castracane's arm was round his fellow's shoulder; that fellow's lips parted, and his breath came soft and eager--yet too quickly for ease. It was certainly a night of wonder.

Castracane's arm slipped down to Silvestro's waist; Silvestro sighed, and snuggled into the haven it made.

"O holy night!" said he. "Now might miracles happen, and we be by."

"Ah," said Castracane, "the miracle of choice would be an angel with a basket of bread and cheese--or a beautiful maiden to come and lie in one's arms."

Silvestro thrilled. Castracane gave a responsive squeeze, and went on.

"I am not too sure, you must know, that one has not happened already. To see you lead that signore by the nose! You came swimming among the tree-stems like an angel. You might have knocked me down with a feather.

And how he kissed your hand! Miracles! Why, if you had been the maiden I dream about, he couldn't have been more respectful. If you want miracles, for example!"

"I do want them, Pilade. I want them very much." Silvestro sighed again, and leaned his cheek till it touched his friend's.

A shock transfused Castracane; he was caught by the starry influences.

Suddenly he turned his mouth towards that blus.h.i.+ng flower, and kissed Silvestro. Silvestro thrilled but lay close.

"Buon' Dio, ecco miracolo!" said Castracane hoa.r.s.ely, and kissed again.

Again his nestling companion gave no sign but a quiver.

Castracane surveyed the stars. "A miracle has certainly happened," he said. "I feel very queer. My head swims, fingers and toes tingle; I seem to have hot lead in my legs. It may be that I am empty. I think it is a miracle; but as yet I see no angel."

Some quicker thrill of what he held made him look at Silvestro. At the same moment Silvestro slowly turned his head, and looked at him. What each saw in the other's face beyond a white moon-shape, what s.h.i.+ning of truth in the eye, what expectancy, what revelation in the lips, I know not. Two pair of lips, at least, met and stayed together.

"O Dio!"

"Oh, Pilade! Oh, carissimo!" She abandoned herself to joy.

"_You_ are the angel, the miracle! You are--"

"No, no, I am not an angel; but oh, I love you, dearly!"