Page 14 of The Gadfly


  CHAPTER VII.

  ONE day in the first week of January Martini, who had sent roundthe forms of invitation to the monthly group-meeting of the literarycommittee, received from the Gadfly a laconic, pencil-scrawled "Verysorry: can't come." He was a little annoyed, as a notice of "importantbusiness" had been put into the invitation; this cavalier treatmentseemed to him almost insolent. Moreover, three separate letterscontaining bad news arrived during the day, and the wind was in theeast, so that Martini felt out of sorts and out of temper; and when, atthe group meeting, Dr. Riccardo asked, "Isn't Rivarez here?" he answeredrather sulkily: "No; he seems to have got something more interesting onhand, and can't come, or doesn't want to."

  "Really, Martini," said Galli irritably, "you are about the mostprejudiced person in Florence. Once you object to a man, everything hedoes is wrong. How could Rivarez come when he's ill?"

  "Who told you he was ill?"

  "Didn't you know? He's been laid up for the last four days."

  "What's the matter with him?"

  "I don't know. He had to put off an appointment with me on Thursday onaccount of illness; and last night, when I went round, I heard that hewas too ill to see anyone. I thought Riccardo would be looking afterhim."

  "I knew nothing about it. I'll go round to-night and see if he wantsanything."

  The next morning Riccardo, looking very pale and tired, came intoGemma's little study. She was sitting at the table, reading outmonotonous strings of figures to Martini, who, with a magnifying glassin one hand and a finely pointed pencil in the other, was makingtiny marks in the pages of a book. She made with one hand a gesturerequesting silence. Riccardo, knowing that a person who is writing incipher must not be interrupted, sat down on the sofa behind her andyawned like a man who can hardly keep awake.

  "2, 4; 3, 7; 6, 1; 3, 5; 4, 1;" Gemma's voice went on with machine-likeevenness. "8, 4; 7, 2; 5, 1; that finishes the sentence, Cesare."

  She stuck a pin into the paper to mark the exact place, and turnedround.

  "Good-morning, doctor; how fagged you look! Are you well?"

  "Oh, I'm well enough--only tired out. I've had an awful night withRivarez."

  "With Rivarez?"

  "Yes; I've been up with him all night, and now I must go off to myhospital patients. I just came round to know whether you can think ofanyone that could look after him a bit for the next few days. He's in adevil of a state. I'll do my best, of course; but I really haven't thetime; and he won't hear of my sending in a nurse."

  "What is the matter with him?"

  "Well, rather a complication of things. First of all----"

  "First of all, have you had any breakfast?"

  "Yes, thank you. About Rivarez--no doubt, it's complicated with a lot ofnerve trouble; but the main cause of disturbance is an old injurythat seems to have been disgracefully neglected. Altogether, he's ina frightfully knocked-about state; I suppose it was that war in SouthAmerica--and he certainly didn't get proper care when the mischief wasdone. Probably things were managed in a very rough-and-ready fashionout there; he's lucky to be alive at all. However, there's a chronictendency to inflammation, and any trifle may bring on an attack----"

  "Is that dangerous?"

  "N-no; the chief danger in a case of that kind is of the patient gettingdesperate and taking a dose of arsenic."

  "It is very painful, of course?"

  "It's simply horrible; I don't know how he manages to bear it. I wasobliged to stupefy him with opium in the night--a thing I hate to dowith a nervous patient; but I had to stop it somehow."

  "He is nervous, I should think."

  "Very, but splendidly plucky. As long as he was not actuallylight-headed with the pain last night, his coolness was quite wonderful.But I had an awful job with him towards the end. How long do you supposethis thing has been going on? Just five nights; and not a soul withincall except that stupid landlady, who wouldn't wake if the house tumbleddown, and would be no use if she did."

  "But what about the ballet-girl?"

  "Yes; isn't that a curious thing? He won't let her come near him. Hehas a morbid horror of her. Altogether, he's one of the mostincomprehensible creatures I ever met--a perfect mass ofcontradictions."

  He took out his watch and looked at it with a preoccupied face. "I shallbe late at the hospital; but it can't be helped. The junior will haveto begin without me for once. I wish I had known of all this before--itought not to have been let go on that way night after night."

  "But why on earth didn't he send to say he was ill?" Martiniinterrupted. "He might have guessed we shouldn't have left him strandedin that fashion."

  "I wish, doctor," said Gemma, "that you had sent for one of us lastnight, instead of wearing yourself out like this."

  "My dear lady, I wanted to send round to Galli; but Rivarez got sofrantic at the suggestion that I didn't dare attempt it. When I askedhim whether there was anyone else he would like fetched, he looked at mefor a minute, as if he were scared out of his wits, and then put upboth hands to his eyes and said: 'Don't tell them; they will laugh!'He seemed quite possessed with some fancy about people laughing atsomething. I couldn't make out what; he kept talking Spanish; butpatients do say the oddest things sometimes."

  "Who is with him now?" asked Gemma.

  "No one except the landlady and her maid."

  "I'll go to him at once," said Martini.

  "Thank you. I'll look round again in the evening. You'll find a paperof written directions in the table-drawer by the large window, and theopium is on the shelf in the next room. If the pain comes on again, givehim another dose--not more than one; but don't leave the bottle where hecan get at it, whatever you do; he might be tempted to take too much."

  When Martini entered the darkened room, the Gadfly turned his headround quickly, and, holding out to him a burning hand, began, in a badimitation of his usual flippant manner:

  "Ah, Martini! You have come to rout me out about those proofs. It's nouse swearing at me for missing the committee last night; the fact is, Ihave not been quite well, and----"

  "Never mind the committee. I have just seen Riccardo, and have come toknow if I can be of any use."

  The Gadfly set his face like a flint.

  "Oh, really! that is very kind of you; but it wasn't worth the trouble.I'm only a little out of sorts."

  "So I understood from Riccardo. He was up with you all night, Ibelieve."

  The Gadfly bit his lip savagely.

  "I am quite comfortable, thank you, and don't want anything."

  "Very well; then I will sit in the other room; perhaps you would ratherbe alone. I will leave the door ajar, in case you call me."

  "Please don't trouble about it; I really shan't want anything. I shouldbe wasting your time for nothing."

  "Nonsense, man!" Martini broke in roughly. "What's the use of tryingto fool me that way? Do you think I have no eyes? Lie still and go tosleep, if you can."

  He went into the adjoining room, and, leaving the door open, sat downwith a book. Presently he heard the Gadfly move restlessly two or threetimes. He put down his book and listened. There was a short silence,then another restless movement; then the quick, heavy, panting breathof a man clenching his teeth to suppress a groan. He went back into theroom.

  "Can I do anything for you, Rivarez?"

  There was no answer, and he crossed the room to the bed-side. TheGadfly, with a ghastly, livid face, looked at him for a moment, andsilently shook his head.

  "Shall I give you some more opium? Riccardo said you were to have it ifthe pain got very bad."

  "No, thank you; I can bear it a bit longer. It may be worse later on."

  Martini shrugged his shoulders and sat down beside the bed. For aninterminable hour he watched in silence; then he rose and fetched theopium.

  "Rivarez, I won't let this go on any longer; if you can stand it, Ican't. You must have the stuff."

  The Gadfly took it without speaking. Then he turned away and closedhis eyes. Martini sat down again,
and listened as the breathing becamegradually deep and even.

  The Gadfly was too much exhausted to wake easily when once asleep. Hourafter hour he lay absolutely motionless. Martini approached him severaltimes during the day and evening, and looked at the still figure; but,except the breathing, there was no sign of life. The face was so wan andcolourless that at last a sudden fear seized upon him; what if he hadgiven too much opium? The injured left arm lay on the coverlet, andhe shook it gently to rouse the sleeper. As he did so, the unfastenedsleeve fell back, showing a series of deep and fearful scars coveringthe arm from wrist to elbow.

  "That arm must have been in a pleasant condition when those marks werefresh," said Riccardo's voice behind him.

  "Ah, there you are at last! Look here, Riccardo; ought this man to sleepforever? I gave him a dose about ten hours ago, and he hasn't moved amuscle since."

  Riccardo stooped down and listened for a moment.

  "No; he is breathing quite properly; it's nothing but sheerexhaustion--what you might expect after such a night. There may beanother paroxysm before morning. Someone will sit up, I hope?"

  "Galli will; he has sent to say he will be here by ten."

  "It's nearly that now. Ah, he's waking! Just see the maidservant getsthat broth hot. Gently--gently, Rivarez! There, there, you needn'tfight, man; I'm not a bishop!"

  The Gadfly started up with a shrinking, scared look. "Is it my turn?" hesaid hurriedly in Spanish. "Keep the people amused a minute; I---- Ah! Ididn't see you, Riccardo."

  He looked round the room and drew one hand across his forehead as ifbewildered. "Martini! Why, I thought you had gone away. I must have beenasleep."

  "You have been sleeping like the beauty in the fairy story for the lastten hours; and now you are to have some broth and go to sleep again."

  "Ten hours! Martini, surely you haven't been here all that time?"

  "Yes; I was beginning to wonder whether I hadn't given you an overdoseof opium."

  The Gadfly shot a sly glance at him.

  "No such luck! Wouldn't you have nice quiet committee-meetings? Whatthe devil do you want, Riccardo? Do for mercy's sake leave me in peace,can't you? I hate being mauled about by doctors."

  "Well then, drink this and I'll leave you in peace. I shall come roundin a day or two, though, and give you a thorough overhauling. I thinkyou have pulled through the worst of this business now; you don't lookquite so much like a death's head at a feast."

  "Oh, I shall be all right soon, thanks. Who's that--Galli? I seem tohave a collection of all the graces here to-night."

  "I have come to stop the night with you."

  "Nonsense! I don't want anyone. Go home, all the lot of you. Even ifthe thing should come on again, you can't help me; I won't keep takingopium. It's all very well once in a way."

  "I'm afraid you're right," Riccardo said. "But that's not always an easyresolution to stick to."

  The Gadfly looked up, smiling. "No fear! If I'd been going in for thatsort of thing, I should have done it long ago."

  "Anyway, you are not going to be left alone," Riccardo answered drily."Come into the other room a minute, Galli; I want to speak to you.Good-night, Rivarez; I'll look in to-morrow."

  Martini was following them out of the room when he heard his name softlycalled. The Gadfly was holding out a hand to him.

  "Thank you!"

  "Oh, stuff! Go to sleep."

  When Riccardo had gone, Martini remained a few minutes in the outerroom, talking with Galli. As he opened the front door of the house heheard a carriage stop at the garden gate and saw a woman's figure getout and come up the path. It was Zita, returning, evidently, from someevening entertainment. He lifted his hat and stood aside to let herpass, then went out into the dark lane leading from the house to thePoggio Imperiale. Presently the gate clicked and rapid footsteps camedown the lane.

  "Wait a minute!" she said.

  When he turned back to meet her she stopped short, and then came slowlytowards him, dragging one hand after her along the hedge. There was asingle street-lamp at the corner, and he saw by its light that she washanging her head down as though embarrassed or ashamed.

  "How is he?" she asked without looking up.

  "Much better than he was this morning. He has been asleep most of theday and seems less exhausted. I think the attack is passing over."

  She still kept her eyes on the ground.

  "Has it been very bad this time?"

  "About as bad as it can well be, I should think."

  "I thought so. When he won't let me come into the room, that alwaysmeans it's bad."

  "Does he often have attacks like this?"

  "That depends---- It's so irregular. Last summer, in Switzerland, he wasquite well; but the winter before, when we were in Vienna, it was awful.He wouldn't let me come near him for days together. He hates to have meabout when he's ill."

  She glanced up for a moment, and, dropping her eyes again, went on:

  "He always used to send me off to a ball, or concert, or something, onone pretext or another, when he felt it coming on. Then he would lockhimself into his room. I used to slip back and sit outside the door--hewould have been furious if he'd known. He'd let the dog come in if itwhined, but not me. He cares more for it, I think."

  There was a curious, sullen defiance in her manner.

  "Well, I hope it won't be so bad any more," said Martini kindly. "Dr.Riccardo is taking the case seriously in hand. Perhaps he will be ableto make a permanent improvement. And, in any case, the treatment givesrelief at the moment. But you had better send to us at once, anothertime. He would have suffered very much less if we had known of itearlier. Good-night!"

  He held out his hand, but she drew back with a quick gesture of refusal.

  "I don't see why you want to shake hands with his mistress."

  "As you like, of course," he began in embarrassment.

  She stamped her foot on the ground. "I hate you!" she cried, turning onhim with eyes like glowing coals. "I hate you all! You come here talkingpolitics to him; and he lets you sit up the night with him and give himthings to stop the pain, and I daren't so much as peep at him throughthe door! What is he to you? What right have you to come and steal himaway from me? I hate you! I hate you! I HATE you!"

  She burst into a violent fit of sobbing, and, darting back into thegarden, slammed the gate in his face.

  "Good Heavens!" said Martini to himself, as he walked down the lane."That girl is actually in love with him! Of all the extraordinarythings----"

 
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