The Fool Errant Part 11

Virginia turned upon me here. "To her?" she cried fiercely. "To her?

Why, what else could she do? What else should I--should any woman do?"

Immediately she had said this, I could see that she wished she had not.

She blushed and hung her head.

"It is not too easy," said Ercole, "but it was best under the circ.u.mstances. Imagine her in the arms of a man! It is not conceivable.

On the other hand, one is not jealous of the Cross; and she knows that I should not come to see her if I had not been faithful."

"And you have spoken--"

"For what do you take me? I have never spoken to her more than once in the garden, or at a less distance than ten braccia--except when I touched her hand. Also I used to say Vieni! and she came; but no more."

"But when she was asked in marriage, and you forbade it?"

"Then she told me herself that she supposed I wished her to take the veil, and I nodded my head."

I was forced to admit his strength of purpose. "You are a great lover, "I said, "that is certain. I am a lover also--but not at all in your way."

Ercole said, "I have only done what any man would do who loved a lady."

"Don Francis would never say Vieni!" said Virginia with a snap, looking up quickly.

"Then the lady would never come," said Ercole.

I was silent, condemning in my heart what my wits could not gainsay.

Ercole saw his Donna Domenica again. She pa.s.sed with the returning procession, and again looked full and mournful knowledge on her lover.

He neither blushed nor saluted her, but met her eyes steadily and did not follow her retreating figure in the hope that she would turn her head. Nor did she turn it. He seemed perfectly cheerful afterwards, and disposed to sleep. He said that he should take another day in Prato, so as to get a little fun of the fair. They had no fairs at San Benedetto in Alpi.

CHAPTER XVIII

FRA PALAMONE BREAKS THE LAW, AND I MY CHAIN

For his second day's campaign, when he set up as a dentist (in spectacles and a fine black beard), Fra Palamone chose me to be arrayed in a loose punchinello suit of red cotton, covered with the signs of the zodiac in tinsel; for, said he, "Mystery is half our battle won beforehand. Hermes Trismegistus himself had not been the philosopher he was if he had been understood, and to this day Aristotle is undervalued, not for saying what he meant, but for saying it all." He gave me a peaked felt hat for my head, and exhorted me to have no fears. "Tooth- drawing," he said, "is as easy as kissing any day. Reflect, Francis, upon this, and let it be your comfort throughout the coming conflict, that there is no jaw-bone in the head of mortal man so strong as his wrist. With your wrist and elbow you can knock a man down; but show me the jaw that will do so much. I will say nothing of Samson, who is not in debate; moreover his weapon was borrowed and his enemies were G.o.d's enemies. Now, here is another fact, full of encouragement for you. The stronger a man is in the jaw, the harder he will pull against your forceps. Pray, what chance has a tooth the most rooted against your pull and the patient's? Not the faintest! Out it comes, and there is one poor sufferer the less in Prato. Courage then; pull and pull again." I promised him that I would pull my stoutest, but curtly declined his suggestion that I should try my hand upon Virginia's mouth, although she made no demur. Sooner should Prato swim in blood, I said, than I lay violent hands upon my friend.

And in blood swam Prato that day, and Fra Palamone bathed in it eloquently. He called himself Conqueror of Pain, and piled up his captures like the trophies of a Roman triumph. I can still hear the soul-congealing yell with which he hailed every new token of his prowess, and still see the packed Piazza surge, as it was swept by it like corn in a breeze. "Woe unto you, heathen masticator," he would cry, holding high the forceps and its victim, "Woe unto you when you meet Palamone, Tyrant of Pain! Blessed be the pincers and the fork, which have gained the celestial paradise for Sant' Agnese, and the terrestrial for this worthy man! I tell you, signori," he would say, looking round upon the gaping company, "I would rather be in this man's shoes than in the Grand Duke's, or in those of my blood-brother in G.o.d, the Patriarch of Venice. Ha! he will break up larks' bones this night! and where are the sheep's trotters to deny him entry? Where are the walnuts or the peach stones whose kernels are removed from him? Ahi, signori! do you think, if Signor Dives had had so wholesome a mouth he would have left to Lazarus the bones? Not he--but the pith of every one of them had gone to make him sleeker. Avanti, signori, avanti! Let the next in torment come up." He had abundant custom, and seemed never to tire; but my turn came at last, introduced by a string of panegyric which spoke of me as the Nerve-Acrobat, the Lodestone of Ivory, the Electrical Indian Boy, at whose touch teeth flew from their sockets and tartar dissolved in smoke.

Pale, but with resolution, I grasped the weapon which he handed me.

To my consternation and half-undoing, I saw in the chair the sinewy form and honest brown face of Ercole, the heroic lover. He saluted me with a smile and wave of the hand. He was here to encourage me, he said. Every man must make a beginning, and there was nothing like a friendly face.

Very much unnerved, I asked him which tooth he proposed to lose.

"Whichever you prefer," he said. "I am here ready. Take this one for instance." He tapped a fine grinder in his lower jaw. I asked him did it pain him?

"Why no," he said, "it doesn't in a manner ache; but it will give you some trouble, I believe, and I'm quite ready to oblige a friend with whom I have shared confidences. Take your pleasure of my mouth by all means. I recommend this one as a twister." Displaying here two rows of pearls, he tapped the biggest of them and awaited my attack.

"I would sooner starve than touch such beauty as this," I said.

"Please yourself," he replied, "but observe, by your refusal I lose three pauls. There's a matter of a wager between me and a friend which shall let the most blood."

"Moreover, my young apprentice," said Fra Palamone with severity, "you shall understand that breaking your covenant with me involves the breaking of my stick upon your back."

"Via!" says Ercole, "where is your nerve, master? Do you think I haven't time enough at San Benedetto to grow a fresh crop!"

A terrible struggle ensued, but Ercole won his wager with ease.

Public confidence being now thoroughly established in Fra Palamone's view, he opened his faro-bank on the last day of the fair, with Virginia and me for decoys--to all appearance a young married couple from the sea-board, who were to play and win ten florins. I was dressed, more or less, as a gentleman of the provinces--and looked, I doubt not, like a clown--in a white, flowered silk vest, white breeches and stockings, and a coat of full green velvet. I carried a sword, my hair in a bag, my hat under my arm. Virginia, on the other hand, looked very handsome in her high-necked damask dress; her hair done upon the top of her head, with a little powder, and a patch at the corner of her mouth. We were given a page in attendance, who was the son of an apothecary in the town, and made our ten florins with ease. That being all the bargain, we spent the rest of the day as we chose--which was not punting against Fra Palamone.

He must have made sixty times that amount.

Towards evening the Piazza, grew very gay. An opera was given at the theatre, after which the ladies of the place took the air, walking up and down with their gentlemen. Drolls, marionettes, quack-doctors, a strolling company of comedians from Venice, tumblers and jugglers were holding their performances before great a.s.semblies of the meaner sort; but the gentry kept the middle of the square, and there too Virginia and I, in our finery, braved it with the best. It was remarkable to me to see how easily and simply she carried herself in a dress and a company entirely strange to her. She had no mauvaise honte, for she made no pretence; she was not self-conscious, for she deceived n.o.body; she did not smirk nor make herself in any way ridiculous. She was still herself, put in a position where--as she had the wit to see--staidness was the natural thing; therefore staid she was. I would have defied any fine gentleman of London to have known her for the little half-naked peasant she had been but one day ago. Of course, in Prato the truth was to be known at a glance. There was n.o.body there, I suppose, who could not have picked out her village; nor did she attempt to conceal it. "You dress me like a lady for your purposes," she would say, "you may depend upon me to do my best."

Clear-minded, brave, honest, n.o.ble-hearted Virginia, how well I remember thee at this hour! And have I not cause? Should I not be grateful? Am I not? Ah, but G.o.d knoweth that I am!

Now, as we were promenading in that company, I chanced to see Fra Palamone talking under a lamp to a tall spare gentleman splendidly dressed in tawny velvet and gold lace. I observed in particular that he had a long, pale, hara.s.sed face, a hooked nose, and eyes so light in colour that they seemed almost white. His hands were exceedingly restless, always fidgeting with something; and he himself, for ever on the start to go, seemed not so much listening to, as enduring, the tale told him. Some person of consequence he evidently was, for two lacqueys stood near him--one holding his cloak, another his sword and gloves.

Twice we had pa.s.sed up and down at no great distance from him before I asked carelessly of Virginia, "Who is the frate's n.o.ble friend?" She did not answer me at once, but pressed my arm and walked rather faster. When we were beyond the company of promenaders she said: "I have seen those two for a long time, and know that gentleman very well. It is the Marchese Semifonte, to whom my village, and my family, and I myself belong, body and soul."

The poor girl was trembling, though she spoke steadily enough and looked at me with unfaltering eyes. But she was grave and I horrified.

"But what,"--I began--"what do you mean, child? The marchese--your--oh, horrible thought! Is this the blackest treachery?"

"Fra Palamone finds me in his way," said Virginia, "and wishes to have you to himself in Florence. He thinks that I know too much about him, and has told the marchese that I am here. He wishes to get rid of me by some simple means. Nor could he have hit upon a better. Well," she said, looking gently at me, "I am in your hands. Shall I go?"

I hurried her off at once to our inn, the Sparrow-hawk, where I was lucky enough to find the padrona, Monna Bianca by name. She was a buxom woman of forty summers, good-tempered, an excellent manager of house and husband, and not unreasonably proud of her discernment. She had found me out, she had told me, in the twinkling of an eye. I was a gentleman, either English or Irish, and (as she put it) had my leg in the wrong bed. Supposing my affair to be one very common to her experience, she had begun by deploring my weakness for Virginia, whom she had called Robaccia, Cosa di Niente, and the like; but I had cut her short by telling her the whole of my own story and part of the girl's. She had at once admitted her mistake, begged my pardon, taken a fancy to me, and now proved a good friend in this urgent need.

I told her the shameful turn of affairs, and begged her to take care of Virginia while I was employed in challenging the marchese to fight, and, if possible, in running him through the body. I said that if she had had the eyes to see my masquerade, it was not to be supposed that Semifonte would misunderstand me; but she stopped me at once. "Do no such thing, Don Francis," said she. "You will be attacking the wrong man. The marchese is no better than he should be, but he is perfectly galant'

uomo, and would throw no sort of difficulty in your way. But you are crediting him with too much zeal. He has many irons in the fire, as we say; and, after all, Miss Virginia is not the only wench in the world."

"Per Bacco," said Virginia, "that's true."

"Your aim," Monna Bianca continued, "should be that old sack of iniquity, Fra Palamone, the most wily, audacious rogue of a friar in all a friar-ridden land. Now, I'll help you there--I and your Virginia together. Leave us, Don Francis, leave us alone for a while. Take the air, avoid the marchese, and by the morning you shall hear some news."

Such indeed proved to be the case. The Grand Duke Cosimo, it seems, on the pressure of his friends the Jesuits, had published an edict, which was then in full force, that any man entering a house where a marriageable woman might be living could be arrested and imprisoned without trial. [Footnote: Mr. Strelley is perfectly right. One of the first acts of Gian Gastone, Cosimo's successor, was to repeal this preposterous decree. The first and only good thing that I ever heard of him.--M. H.] By means of this Monna Bianca and Virginia laid Fra Palamone by the heels. The girl was sent to spend the night with Monna Bianca's sister-in-law, who lived with her husband (a notary public) and own sister in the suburbs of Prato, just outside the Porta Fiorentina.

Thither Fra Palamone went in pursuit of his infamous plans, and there he was found by the sbirri of the Holy Office. The case was clear enough against him, for I need not say that there was no love lost between the frate and the Jesuits. Much as may be urged against that learned body of politicians, no one has ever laid a pandering to profligacy or chicane to their account. The sister of Monna Bianca's sister-in-law was a marriageable woman, Fra Palamone was in the house with her, and was there caught by the Inquisition and haled off to their house of correction. Virginia and I set out at liberty to Florence, decently clad, decently shod, with the remains of our ten florins in my breeches pocket. I remember Monna Bianca's parting advice very well. "Farewell, Don Francis," it was, "good luck to you and this honest girl. Pursue your Aurelia as ardently as you will, you are only doing after your age and degree in the world. Let me advise you to write to Padua for your portmanteau and effects. You will love your mistress none the less for a good coat to your back, nor she you, I promise you. Besides, I believe in a gentleman living as a gentleman. Marry off your Miss Virginia, who has her wits about her, to your valet, or to anybody else's valet who will take her. Your position with regard to her does you infinite credit with me; but I cannot answer for Madam Aurelia. Or rather, I can answer for her that it will do you precisely the reverse. And--I have a son of my own, remember--inform your father of your whereabouts in Florence. To meet again, Don Francis--addio!"

That was a reasonable friendly soul; but it was not to be supposed that she could understand the reverential att.i.tude of a young man to his mistress.

CHAPTER XIX

I AM AGAIN MISCONCEIVED

The aspect of Florence, surveyed from the crags of Fiesole, or from that gentler eyrie of Bellosguardo, is one of the most enchanting visions open to the eye of man, so cunningly have art and nature joined their webbing; but that which can be harvested upon the road from Prato is not at all extraordinary. Suburb there succeeds to dirty suburb, the roads are quags or deep in dust, the company as disagreeable as it is mean.

Approaching the city from that side, you neither know that within a short mile of you are the dome of Brunelleschi, the Tower of Giotto, the David of Michael Angelo--nor do you greatly care. At least I did not, being sadly out of spirits, upon that day of rain, steam and weariness, when, with the young Virginia springing by my side, I limped within the Porta al Prato and stood upon the sacred soil of the Second Athens.

Quick to feel impressions, too quick to read in them signs and portents, I felt fatality press upon my brows.