CHAPTER XXI
One lovely April morning, Sir Thomas Nevil, his daughter, a newly madebride--Orso, and Colomba, drove out of Pisa to see a lately discoveredEtruscan vault to which all strangers who came to that part of thecountry paid a visit.
Orso and his wife went down into the ancient building, pulled out theirpencils, and began to sketch the mural paintings. But the colonel andColomba, who neither of them cared much for archaeology, left them tothemselves, and walked about in the neighbourhood.
"My dear Colomba," said the colonel, "we shall never get back to Pisa intime for lunch. Aren't you hungry? There are Orso and his wife buriedin their antiquities; when once they begin sketching together, it lastsforever!"
"Yes," remarked Colomba. "And yet they never bring the smallest sketchhome with them."
"I think," proceeded the colonel, "our best plan would be to make ourway to that little farm-house yonder. We should find bread there, andperhaps some _aleatico_. Who knows, we might even find strawberries andcream! And then we should be able to wait patiently for our artists."
"You are quite right, colonel. You and I are the reasonable members ofthis family. We should be very foolish if we let ourselves by martyrizedby that pair of lovers, who live on poetry! Give me your arm! Don't youthink I'm improving? I lean on people's arms, wear fashionable hats andgowns and trinkets--I'm learning I don't know how many fine things--I'mnot at all a young savage any more. Just observe the grace with which Iwear this shawl. That fair-haired spark--that officer belonging toyour regiment who came to the wedding--oh, dear! I can't recollecthis name!--a tall, curly-headed man, whom I could knock over with onehand----"
"Chatsworth?" suggested the colonel.
"That's it!--but I never shall be able to say it!--Well, you know he'sover head and ears in love with me!"
"O Colomba, you're growing a terrible flirt! We shall have anotherwedding before long."
"I! Marry! And then who will there be to bring up my nephew--when Orsoprovides me with a nephew? And who'll teach him to talk Corsican? Yes,he shall talk Corsican, and I'll make him a peaked cap, just to vexyou."
"Well, well, wait till you have your nephew, and then you shall teachhim to use a dagger, if you choose."
"Farewell to daggers!" said Colomba merrily. "I have a fan now, to rapyour fingers with when you speak ill of my country."
Chatting thus, they reached the farm-house, where they found wine,strawberries, and cream. Colomba helped the farmer's wife to gather thestrawberries, while the colonel drank his _aleatico_. At the turning ofa path she caught sight of an old man, sitting in the sun, on a strawchair. He seemed ill, his cheeks were fallen in, his eyes were hollow,he was frightfully thin; as he sat there, motionless, pallid, staringfixedly in front of him, he looked more like a corpse than like a livingcreature. Colomba watched him for some minutes, and with a curiosity sogreat that it attracted the woman's attention.
"That poor old fellow is a countryman of yours," she said. "For I knowyou are from Corsica by the way you talk, signorina! He has had greattrouble in his own country. His children met with some terrible death.They say--you'll excuse me, signorina--that when they quarrel, yourcompatriots don't show each other very much mercy. Then the poorold gentleman, being left all alone, came over to Pisa, to a distantrelation of his, who owns this farm. Between his misfortunes and hissorrow, the good man is a little cracked. . . . The lady found himtroublesome--for she sees a great deal of company. So she sent him outhere. He's very gentle--no worry at all. He doesn't speak three wordsthe whole day long. In fact, his brain's quite gone. The doctor comes tosee him every week. He says he won't live long."
"There's no hope for him, then!" said Colomba. "In such a case, deathwill be a mercy."
"You might say a word to him in Corsican, signorina. Perhaps it wouldcheer him up to hear the speech of his own country."
"I'll see!" said Colomba, and her smile was mysterious.
She drew nearer to the old man, till her shadow fell across his chair.Then the poor idiot lifted his head and stared at Colomba, while shelooked at him, smiling still. After a moment, the old man passed hishand across his forehead, and closed his eyes, as though he would haveshut out the sight of Colomba. He opened them again, desperately widethis time. His lips began to work, he tried to stretch out his hands,but, fascinated by Colomba's glance, he sat, nailed, as it were, to hischair, unable to move or utter a word. At last great tears dropped fromhis eyes, and a few sobs escaped from his heaving chest.
"'Tis the first time I've seen him like this," said the good woman."This signorina belongs to your own country; she has come to see you,"said she to the old man.
"Mercy!" he cried in a hoarse voice. "Mercy! Are you not content? Theleaf I burned. How did you read it? But why did you take them both?Orlanduccio! You can't have read anything against him! You should haveleft me one, only one! Orlanduccio--you didn't read _his_ name!"
"I had to have them both!" answered Colomba, speaking low and in theCorsican dialect. "The branches are topped off! If the stem had not beenrotten, I would have torn it up! Come! make no moan. You will not sufferlong! _I_ suffered for two years!"
The old man cried out, and then his head dropped on his breast. Colombaturned her back on him, and went slowly into the house, humming somemeaningless lines out of a _ballata_:
"I must have the hand that fired, the eye that aimed, the heart that planned."
While the farmer's wife ran to attend on the old man, Colomba, withblazing eyes and brilliant cheeks, sat down to luncheon opposite thecolonel.
"What's the matter with you?" he said. "You look just as you did thatday at Pietranera, when they fired at us while we were at dinner."
"Old Corsican memories had come back to me. But all that's done with.I shall be godmother, sha'n't I? Oh! what fine names I'll give him!Ghilfuccio--Tomaso--Orso--Leone!"
The farmer's wife came back into the room.
"Well?" inquired Colomba, with the most perfect composure. "Is he dead,or had he only fainted?"
"It was nothing, signorina. But it's curious what an effect the sight ofyou had on him."
"And the doctor says he won't last long?"
"Not two months, very likely."
"He'll be no great loss!" remarked Colomba.
"What the devil are you talking about?" inquired the colonel.
"About an idiot from my own country, who is boarded out here. I'll sendfrom time to time to find out how he is. Why, Colonel Nevil, aren't yougoing to leave any strawberries for Lydia and my brother?"
When Colomba left the farm-house and got into the carriage, the farmer'swife looked after her for a while. Then, turning to her daughter:
"Dost see that pretty young lady yonder?" she said. "Well, I'm certainshe has the evil eye!"
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