Sant' Ilario Part 9

San Giacinto turned in the direction of the crowd which was pouring into the street at some distance farther on. As he approached, he heard the name "Serristori" spoken frequently in the hum of voices.

"What about the Serristori?" he asked of the first he met.

"Have you not heard?" cried the fellow. "It is blown up with gunpowder! There are at least a thousand dead. Half the Borgo Nuovo is destroyed, and they say that the Vatican will go next---"

The man would have run on for any length of time, but San Giacinto had heard enough and dived into the first byway he found, intending to escape the throng and make straight for the barracks.

He had to ask his way several times, and it was fully a quarter of an hour before he reached the bridge. Thence he easily found the scene of the disaster, and came up to the hospital of Santo Spirito just after the gates had closed behind the bearers of the dead. He mixed with the crowd and asked questions, learning very soon that the first search, made by the people from the hospital, had only brought to light the bodies of two Zouaves and one woman.

"And I did not see her," said the man who was speaking, "but they say she was a lady and beautiful as an angel," "Rubbis.h.!.+"

exclaimed another. "She was a little sewing woman who lived in the Borgo Vecchio. And I know it is true because her innamorato was one of the dead Zouaves they picked up."

"I don't believe there was any woman at all," said a third. "What should a woman be doing at the barracks?"

"She was killed outside," observed the first speaker, a timid old man. "At least, I was told so, but I did not see her."

"It was a woman bringing a baby to put into the Rota," [Footnote: The Rota was a revolving box in which foundlings were formerly placed. The box turned round and the infant was taken inside and cared for. It stands at the gate of the Santo Spirito Hospital, and is still visible, though no longer in use.] cried a shrill- voiced washerwoman. "She got the child in and was running away, when the place blew up, and the devil carried her off. And serve her right, for throwing away her baby, poor little thing!"

In the light of these various opinions, most of which supported the story that some woman had been carried into the hospital, San Giacinto determined to find out the truth, and boldly rang the bell. A panel was opened in the door, and the porter looked out at the surging crowd.

"What do you want?" he inquired roughly, on seeing that admittance had not been asked for a sick or wounded person.

"I want to speak with the surgeon in charge," replied San Giacinto.

"He is busy," said the man rather doubtfully. "Who are you?"

"A friend of one of the persons just killed."

"They are dead. You had better wait till morning and come again,"

suggested the porter.

"But I want to be sure that it is my friend who is dead."

"Then why do you not give your name? Perhaps you are a Garibaldian. Why should I open?"

"I will tell the surgeon my name, if you will call him. There is something for yourself. Tell him I am a Roman prince and must see him for a moment."

"I will see if he will come," said the man, shutting the panel in San Giacinto's face. His footsteps echoed along the pavement of the wide hall within. It was long before he came back, and San Giacinto had leisure to reflect upon the situation.

He had very little doubt but that the dead woman was no other than Donna Faustina. By a rare chance, or rather in obedience to an irresistible instinct, he had found the object of his search in half an hour, while his cousin was fruitlessly inquiring for the missing girl in the opposite direction. He had been led to the conclusion that she had followed Gouache by what he had seen in the Saracinesca's drawing-room, and by a process of reasoning too simple to suggest itself to an ordinary member of Roman society.

What disturbed him most was the thought of the consequences of his discovery, and he resolved to conceal the girl's name and his own if possible. If she were indeed dead, it would be wiser to convey her body to her father's house privately; if she were still alive, secrecy was doubly necessary. In either case it would be utterly impossible to account to the world for the fact that Faustina Montevarchi had been alone in the Borgo Nuovo at such an hour; and San Giacinto had a lively interest in preserving the good reputation of Casa Montevarchi, since he had been meditating for some time past a union with Donna Flavia.

At last the panel opened again, and when the porter had satisfied himself that the gentleman was still without, a little door in the heavy gate was cautiously unfastened and San Giacinto went in, bending nearly double to pa.s.s under the low entrance. In the great vestibule he was immediately confronted by the surgeon in charge, who was in his s.h.i.+rt sleeves, but had thrown his coat over his shoulders and held it together at the neck to protect himself from the night air. San Giacinto begged him to retire out of hearing of the porter, and the two walked away together.

"There was a lady killed just now by the explosion, was there not?" inquired San Giacinto.

"She is not dead," replied the surgeon. "Do you know her?"

"I think so. Had she anything about her to prove her ident.i.ty?"

"The letter M embroidered on her handkerchief. That is all I know.

She has not been here a quarter of an hour. I thought she was dead myself, when we took her up."

"She was not under the ruins?"

"No. She was struck by some small stone, I fancy. The two Zouaves were half buried, and are quite dead."

"May I see them? I know many in the corps. They might be acquaintances."

"Certainly. They are close by in the mortuary chamber, unless they have been put in the chapel."

The two men entered the grim place, which was dimly lighted by a lantern hanging overhead. It is unnecessary to dwell upon the ghastly details. San Giacinto bent down curiously and looked at the dead men's faces. He knew neither of them, and told the surgeon so.

"Will you allow me to see the lady?" he asked.

"Pardon me, if I ask a question," said the surgeon, who was a man of middle age, with a red beard and keen grey eyes. "To whom have I the advantage of speaking?"

"Signor Professore," replied San Giacinto, "I must tell you that if this is the lady I suppose your patient to be, the honour of one of the greatest families in Rome is concerned, and it is important that strict secrecy should be preserved."

"The porter told me that you were a Roman prince," returned the surgeon rather bluntly. "But you speak like a southerner."

"I was brought up in Naples. As I was saying, secrecy is very important, and I can a.s.sure you that you will earn the grat.i.tude of many by a.s.sisting me."

"Do you wish to take this lady away at once?"

"Heaven forbid! Her mother and sister shall come for her in half an hour."

The surgeon thrust his hands into his pockets, and stood staring for a moment or two at the bodies of the Zouaves.

"I cannot do it," he said, suddenly looking up at San. Giacinto.

"I am master here, and I am responsible. The secret is professional, of course. If I knew you, even by sight, I should not hesitate. As it is, I must ask your name."

San Giacinto did not hesitate long, as the surgeon was evidently master of the situation. He took a card from his case and silently handed it to the doctor. The latter took it and read the name, "Don Giovanni Saracinesca, Marchese di San Giacinto." His face betrayed no emotion, but the belief flashed through his mind that there was no such person in existence. He was one of the leading men in his profession, and knew Prince Saracinesca and Sant'

Ilario, but he had never heard of this other Don Giovanni. He knew also that the city was in a state of revolution and that many suspicious persons were likely to gain access to public buildings on false pretences.

"Very well," he said quietly. "You are not afraid of dead men, I see. Be good enough to wait a moment here--no one will see you, and you will not be recognised. I will go and see that there is n.o.body in the way, and you shall have a sight of the young lady."

His companion nodded in a.s.sent and the surgeon went out through the narrow door. San Giacinto was surprised to hear the heavy key turned in the lock and withdrawn, but immediately accounted for the fact on the theory that the surgeon wished to prevent any one from finding his visitor lest the secret should be divulged. He was not a nervous man, and had no especial horror of being left alone in a mortuary chamber for a few minutes. He looked about him, and saw that the room was high and vaulted. One window alone gave air, and this was ten feet from the floor and heavily ironed.

He reflected with a smile that if it pleased the surgeon to leave him there he could not possibly get out. Neither his size nor his phenomenal strength could a.s.sist him in the least. There was no furniture in the place. Half a dozen slabs of slate for the bodies were built against the wall, solid and immovable, and the door was of the heaviest oak, thickly studded with huge iron nails. If the dead men had been living prisoners their place of confinement could not have been more strongly contrived.

San Giacinto waited a quarter of an hour, and at last, as the surgeon did not return, he sat down upon one of the marble slabs and, being very hungry, consoled himself by lighting a cigar, while he meditated upon the surest means of conveying Donna Faustina to her father's house. At last he began to wonder how long he was to wait.

"I should not wonder," he said to himself, "if that long-eared professor had taken me for a revolutionist."

He was not far wrong, indeed. The surgeon had despatched a messenger for a couple of gendarmes and had gone about his business in the hospital, knowing very well that it would take some time to find the police while the riot lasted, and congratulating himself upon having caught a prisoner who, if not a revolutionist, was at all events an impostor, since he had a card printed with a false name.