The Gadfly

  CHAPTER VI.

  HEARING the cell-door unlocked, the Gadfly turned away his eyes withlanguid indifference. He supposed that it was only the Governor, comingto worry him with another interrogation. Several soldiers mountedthe narrow stair, their carbines clanking against the wall; then adeferential voice said: "It is rather steep here, Your Eminence."

  He started convulsively, and then shrank down, catching his breath underthe stinging pressure of the straps.

  Montanelli came in with the sergeant and three guards.

  "If Your Eminence will kindly wait a moment," the sergeant begannervously, "one of my men will bring a chair. He has just gone to fetchit. Your Eminence will excuse us--if we had been expecting you, weshould have been prepared."

  "There is no need for any preparation. Will you kindly leave us alone,sergeant; and wait at the foot of the stairs with your men?"

  "Yes, Your Eminence. Here is the chair; shall I put it beside him?"

  The Gadfly was lying with closed eyes; but he felt that Montanelli waslooking at him.

  "I think he is asleep, Your Eminence," the sergeant was beginning, butthe Gadfly opened his eyes.

  "No," he said.

  As the soldiers were leaving the cell they were stopped by a suddenexclamation from Montanelli; and, turning back, saw that he was bendingdown to examine the straps.

  "Who has been doing this?" he asked. The sergeant fumbled with his cap.

  "It was by the Governor's express orders, Your Eminence."

  "I had no idea of this, Signor Rivarez," Montanelli said in a voice ofgreat distress.

  "I told Your Eminence," the Gadfly answered, with his hard smile, "thatI n-n-never expected to be patted on the head."

  "Sergeant, how long has this been going on?"

  "Since he tried to escape, Your Eminence."

  "That is, nearly a week? Bring a knife and cut these off at once."

  "May it please Your Eminence, the doctor wanted to take them off, butColonel Ferrari wouldn't allow it."

  "Bring a knife at once." Montanelli had not raised his voice, but thesoldiers could see that he was white with anger. The sergeant took aclasp-knife from his pocket, and bent down to cut the arm-strap. Hewas not a skilful-fingered man; and he jerked the strap tighter with anawkward movement, so that the Gadfly winced and bit his lip in spite ofall his self-control. Montanelli came forward at once.

  "You don't know how to do it; give me the knife."

  "Ah-h-h!" The Gadfly stretched out his arms with a long, rapturous sighas the strap fell off. The next instant Montanelli had cut the otherone, which bound his ankles.

  "Take off the irons, too, sergeant; and then come here. I want to speakto you."

  He stood by the window, looking on, till the sergeant threw down thefetters and approached him.

  "Now," he said, "tell me everything that has been happening."

  The sergeant, nothing loath, related all that he knew of theGadfly's illness, of the "disciplinary measures," and of the doctor'sunsuccessful attempt to interfere.

  "But I think, Your Eminence," he added, "that the colonel wanted thestraps kept on as a means of getting evidence."

  "Evidence?"

  "Yes, Your Eminence; the day before yesterday I heard him offer to havethem taken off if he"--with a glance at the Gadfly--"would answer aquestion he had asked."

  Montanelli clenched his hand on the window-sill, and the soldiersglanced at one another: they had never seen the gentle Cardinal angrybefore. As for the Gadfly, he had forgotten their existence; he hadforgotten everything except the physical sensation of freedom. He wascramped in every limb; and now stretched, and turned, and twisted aboutin a positive ecstasy of relief.

  "You can go now, sergeant," the Cardinal said. "You need not feelanxious about having committed a breach of discipline; it was your dutyto tell me when I asked you. See that no one disturbs us. I will comeout when I am ready."

  When the door had closed behind the soldiers, he leaned on thewindow-sill and looked for a while at the sinking sun, so as to leavethe Gadfly a little more breathing time.

  "I have heard," he said presently, leaving the window, and sitting downbeside the pallet, "that you wish to speak to me alone. If you feel wellenough to tell me what you wanted to say, I am at your service."

  He spoke very coldly, with a stiff, imperious manner that was notnatural to him. Until the straps were off, the Gadfly was to him simplya grievously wronged and tortured human being; but now he recalled theirlast interview, and the deadly insult with which it had closed. TheGadfly looked up, resting his head lazily on one arm. He possessedthe gift of slipping into graceful attitudes; and when his face was inshadow no one would have guessed through what deep waters he had beenpassing. But, as he looked up, the clear evening light showed howhaggard and colourless he was, and how plainly the trace of the last fewdays was stamped on him. Montanelli's anger died away.

  "I am afraid you have been terribly ill," he said. "I am sincerely sorrythat I did not know of all this. I would have put a stop to it before."

  The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. "All's fair in war," he said coolly."Your Eminence objects to straps theoretically, from the Christianstandpoint; but it is hardly fair to expect the colonel to see that.He, no doubt, would prefer not to try them on his own skin--which isj-j-just my case. But that is a matter of p-p-personal convenience. Atthis moment I am undermost--w-w-what would you have? It is very kind ofYour Eminence, though, to call here; but perhaps that was done from theC-c-christian standpoint, too. Visiting prisoners--ah, yes! I forgot.'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the l-least of these'--it's not verycomplimentary, but one of the least is duly grateful."

  "Signor Rivarez," the Cardinal interrupted, "I have come here on youraccount--not on my own. If you had not been 'undermost,' as you call it,I should never have spoken to you again after what you said to me lastweek; but you have the double privilege of a prisoner and a sick man,and I could not refuse to come. Have you anything to say to me, now I amhere; or have you sent for me merely to amuse yourself by insulting anold man?"

  There was no answer. The Gadfly had turned away, and was lying with onehand across his eyes.

  "I am--very sorry to trouble you," he said at last, huskily; "but couldI have a little water?"

  There was a jug of water standing by the window, and Montanelli roseand fetched it. As he slipped his arm round the Gadfly to lift him, hesuddenly felt the damp, cold fingers close over his wrist like a vice.

  "Give me your hand--quick--just a moment," the Gadfly whispered. "Oh,what difference does it make to you? Only one minute!"

  He sank down, hiding his face on Montanelli's arm, and quivering fromhead to foot.

  "Drink a little water," Montanelli said after a moment. The Gadflyobeyed silently; then lay back on the pallet with closed eyes. Hehimself could have given no explanation of what had happened to him whenMontanelli's hand had touched his cheek; he only knew that in all hislife there had been nothing more terrible.

  Montanelli drew his chair closer to the pallet and sat down. The Gadflywas lying quite motionless, like a corpse, and his face was lividand drawn. After a long silence, he opened his eyes, and fixed theirhaunting, spectral gaze on the Cardinal.

  "Thank you," he said. "I--am sorry. I think--you asked me something?"

  "You are not fit to talk. If there is anything you want to say to me, Iwill try to come again to-morrow."

  "Please don't go, Your Eminence--indeed, there is nothing the matterwith me. I--I have been a little upset these few days; it was half of itmalingering, though--the colonel will tell you so if you ask him."

  "I prefer to form my own conclusions," Montanelli answered quietly.

  "S-so does the colonel. And occasionally, do you know, they are ratherwitty. You w-w-wouldn't think it to look at him; but s-s-sometimes hegets hold of an or-r-riginal idea. On Friday night, for instance--Ithink it was Friday, but I got a l-little mixed as to time towardsthe end--anyhow, I asked for a d-dose of opium--I remember th
at quitedistinctly; and he came in here and said I m-might h-h-have it if Iwould tell him who un-l-l-locked the gate. I remember his saying: 'Ifit's real, you'll consent; if you don't, I shall look upon it as ap-proof that you are shamming.' It n-n-never oc-c-curred to me beforehow comic that is; it's one of the f-f-funniest things----"

  He burst into a sudden fit of harsh, discordant laughter; then, turningsharply on the silent Cardinal, went on, more and more hurriedly, andstammering so that the words were hardly intelligible:

  "You d-d-don't see that it's f-f-funny? Of c-course not; you r-religiouspeople n-n-never have any s-sense of humour--you t-take everythingt-t-tragically. F-for instance, that night in the Cath-thedral--howsolemn you were! By the way--w-what a path-thetic figure I musthave c-cut as the pilgrim! I d-don't believe you e-even see anythingc-c-comic in the b-business you have c-come about this evening."

  Montanelli rose.

  "I came to hear what you have to say; but I think you are too muchexcited to say it to-night. The doctor had better give you a sedative,and we will talk to-morrow, when you have had a night's sleep."

  "S-sleep? Oh, I shall s-sleep well enough, Your Eminence, when youg-give your c-consent to the colonel's plan--an ounce of l-lead is as-splendid sedative."

  "I don't understand you," Montanelli said, turning to him with astartled look.

  The Gadfly burst out laughing again.

  "Your Eminence, Your Eminence, t-t-truth is the c-chief of the Christianvirtues! D-d-do you th-th-think I d-d-don't know how hard the Governorhas been trying to g-get your consent to a court-martial? You hadb-better by half g-give it, Your Eminence; it's only w-what all yourb-brother prelates would do in your place. 'Cosi fan tutti;' and thenyou would be doing s-such a lot of good, and so l-little harm! Really,it's n-not worth all the sleepless nights you have been spending overit!"

  "Please stop laughing a minute," Montanelli interrupted, "and tell mehow you heard all this. Who has been talking to you about it?"

  "H-hasn't the colonel e-e-ever told you I am a d-d-devil--not a man? No?He has t-told me so often enough! Well, I am devil enough to f-findout a little bit what p-people are thinking about. Your E-eminence isthinking that I'm a conf-founded nuisance, and you wish s-somebodyelse had to settle what's to be done with me, without disturbing yours-sensitive conscience. That's a p-pretty fair guess, isn't it?"

  "Listen to me," the Cardinal said, sitting down again beside him, witha very grave face. "However you found out all this, it is quite true.Colonel Ferrari fears another rescue attempt on the part of yourfriends, and wishes to forestall it in--the way you speak of. You see, Iam quite frank with you."

  "Your E-eminence was always f-f-famous for truthfulness," the Gadfly putin bitterly.

  "You know, of course," Montanelli went on, "that legally I have nojurisdiction in temporal matters; I am a bishop, not a legate. But Ihave a good deal of influence in this district; and the colonel willnot, I think, venture to take so extreme a course unless he can get,at least, my tacit consent to it. Up till now I have unconditionallyopposed the scheme; and he has been trying very hard to conquer myobjection by assuring me that there is great danger of an armed attempton Thursday when the crowd collects for the procession--an attempt whichprobably would end in bloodshed. Do you follow me?"

  The Gadfly was staring absently out of the window. He looked round andanswered in a weary voice:

  "Yes, I am listening."

  "Perhaps you are really not well enough to stand this conversationto-night. Shall I come back in the morning? It is a very serious matter,and I want your whole attention."

  "I would rather get it over now," the Gadfly answered in the same tone."I follow everything you say."

  "Now, if it be true," Montanelli went on, "that there is any real dangerof riots and bloodshed on account of you, I am taking upon myself atremendous responsibility in opposing the colonel; and I believe thereis at least some truth in what he says. On the other hand, I am inclinedto think that his judgment is warped, to a certain extent, by hispersonal animosity against you, and that he probably exaggerates thedanger. That seems to me the more likely since I have seen this shamefulbrutality." He glanced at the straps and chains lying on the floor, andwent on:

  "If I consent, I kill you; if I refuse, I run the risk of killinginnocent persons. I have considered the matter earnestly, and havesought with all my heart for a way out of this dreadful alternative. Andnow at last I have made up my mind."

  "To kill me and s-save the innocent persons, of course--the onlydecision a Christian man could possibly come to. 'If thy r-right handoffend thee,' etc. I have n-not the honour to be the right hand of YourEminence, and I have offended you; the c-c-conclusion is plain. Couldn'tyou tell me that without so much preamble?"

  The Gadfly spoke with languid indifference and contempt, like a manweary of the whole subject.

  "Well?" he added after a little pause. "Was that the decision, YourEminence?"

  "No."

  The Gadfly shifted his position, putting both hands behind his head, andlooked at Montanelli with half-shut eyes. The Cardinal, with his headsunk down as in deep thought, was softly beating one hand on the arm ofhis chair. Ah, that old, familiar gesture!

  "I have decided," he said, raising his head at last, "to do, I suppose,an utterly unprecedented thing. When I heard that you had asked to seeme, I resolved to come here and tell you everything, as I have done, andto place the matter in your own hands."

  "In--my hands?"

  "Signor Rivarez, I have not come to you as cardinal, or as bishop, oras judge; I have come to you as one man to another. I do not ask you totell me whether you know of any such scheme as the colonel apprehends.I understand quite well that, if you do, it is your secret and you willnot tell it. But I do ask you to put yourself in my place. I am old,and, no doubt, have not much longer to live. I would go down to my gravewithout blood on my hands."

  "Is there none on them as yet, Your Eminence?"

  Montanelli grew a shade paler, but went on quietly:

  "All my life I have opposed repressive measures and cruelty wherever Ihave met with them. I have always disapproved of capital punishment inall its forms; I have protested earnestly and repeatedly against themilitary commissions in the last reign, and have been out of favouron account of doing so. Up till now such influence and power as I havepossessed have always been employed on the side of mercy. I ask you tobelieve me, at least, that I am speaking the truth. Now, I am placed inthis dilemma. By refusing, I am exposing the town to the danger ofriots and all their consequences; and this to save the life of a manwho blasphemes against my religion, who has slandered and wronged andinsulted me personally (though that is comparatively a trifle), and who,as I firmly believe, will put that life to a bad use when it is given tohim. But--it is to save a man's life."

  He paused a moment, and went on again:

  "Signor Rivarez, everything that I know of your career seems to me badand mischievous; and I have long believed you to be reckless and violentand unscrupulous. To some extent I hold that opinion of you still. Butduring this last fortnight you have shown me that you are a brave manand that you can be faithful to your friends. You have made the soldierslove and admire you, too; and not every man could have done that.I think that perhaps I have misjudged you, and that there is in yousomething better than what you show outside. To that better self inyou I appeal, and solemnly entreat you, on your conscience, to tell metruthfully--in my place, what would you do?"

  A long silence followed; then the Gadfly looked up.

  "At least, I would decide my own actions for myself, and take theconsequences of them. I would not come sneaking to other people, in thecowardly Christian way, asking them to solve my problems for me!"

  The onslaught was so sudden, and its extraordinary vehemence and passionwere in such startling contrast to the languid affectation of a momentbefore, that it was as though he had thrown off a mask.

  "We atheists," he went on fiercely, "understand that if a man has athing to be
ar, he must bear it as best he can; and if he sinks underit--why, so much the worse for him. But a Christian comes whining to hisGod, or his saints; or, if they won't help him, to his enemies--he canalways find a back to shift his burdens on to. Isn't there a rule to goby in your Bible, or your Missal, or any of your canting theology books,that you must come to me to tell you what to do? Heavens and earth, man!Haven't I enough as it is, without your laying your responsibilities onmy shoulders? Go back to your Jesus; he exacted the uttermost farthing,and you'd better do the same. After all, you'll only be killing anatheist--a man who boggles over 'shibboleth'; and that's no great crime,surely!"

  He broke off, panting for breath, and then burst out again:

  "And YOU to talk of cruelty! Why, that p-p-pudding-headed ass couldn'thurt me as much as you do if he tried for a year; he hasn't got thebrains. All he can think of is to pull a strap tight, and when he can'tget it any tighter he's at the end of his resources. Any fool cando that! But you---- 'Sign your own death sentence, please; I'm tootender-hearted to do it myself.' Oh! it would take a Christian to hit onthat--a gentle, compassionate Christian, that turns pale at the sight ofa strap pulled too tight! I might have known when you came in, like anangel of mercy--so shocked at the colonel's 'barbarity'--that the realthing was going to begin! Why do you look at me that way? Consent, man,of course, and go home to your dinner; the thing's not worth all thisfuss. Tell your colonel he can have me shot, or hanged, or whatevercomes handiest--roasted alive, if it's any amusement to him--and be donewith it!"

  The Gadfly was hardly recognizable; he was beside himself with rageand desperation, panting and quivering, his eyes glittering with greenreflections like the eyes of an angry cat.

  Montanelli had risen, and was looking down at him silently. He did notunderstand the drift of the frenzied reproaches, but he understood outof what extremity they were uttered; and, understanding that, forgaveall past insults.

  "Hush!" he said. "I did not want to hurt you so. Indeed, I never meantto shift my burden on to you, who have too much already. I have neverconsciously done that to any living creature----"

  "It's a lie!" the Gadfly cried out with blazing eyes. "And thebishopric?"

  "The--bishopric?"

  "Ah! you've forgotten that? It's so easy to forget! 'If you wish it,Arthur, I will say I cannot go. I was to decide your life for you--I, atnineteen! If it weren't so hideous, it would be funny."

  "Stop!" Montanelli put up both hands to his head with a desperate cry.He let them fall again, and walked slowly away to the window. Therehe sat down on the sill, resting one arm on the bars, and pressing hisforehead against it. The Gadfly lay and watched him, trembling.

  Presently Montanelli rose and came back, with lips as pale as ashes.

  "I am very sorry," he said, struggling piteously to keep up his usualquiet manner, "but I must go home. I--am not quite well."

  He was shivering as if with ague. All the Gadfly's fury broke down.

  "Padre, can't you see----"

  Montanelli shrank away, and stood still.

  "Only not that!" he whispered at last. "My God, anything but that! If Iam going mad----"

  The Gadfly raised himself on one arm, and took the shaking hands in his.

  "Padre, will you never understand that I am not really drowned?"

  The hands grew suddenly cold and stiff. For a moment everything was deadwith silence, and then Montanelli knelt down and hid his face on theGadfly's breast.

  *****

  When he raised his head the sun had set, and the red glow was dying inthe west. They had forgotten time and place, and life and death; theyhad forgotten, even, that they were enemies.

  "Arthur," Montanelli whispered, "are you real? Have you come back to mefrom the dead?"

  "From the dead----" the Gadfly repeated, shivering. He was lying withhis head on Montanelli's arm, as a sick child might lie in its mother'sembrace.

  "You have come back--you have come back at last!"

  The Gadfly sighed heavily. "Yes," he said; "and you have to fight me, orto kill me."

  "Oh, hush, carino! What is all that now? We have been like two childrenlost in the dark, mistaking one another for phantoms. Now we have foundeach other, and have come out into the light. My poor boy, how changedyou are--how changed you are! You look as if all the ocean of theworld's misery had passed over your head--you that used to be so full ofthe joy of life! Arthur, is it really you? I have dreamed so often thatyou had come back to me; and then have waked and seen the outer darknessstaring in upon an empty place. How can I know I shall not wake againand find it all a dream? Give me something tangible--tell me how it allhappened."

  "It happened simply enough. I hid on a goods vessel, as stowaway, andgot out to South America."

  "And there?"

  "There I--lived, if you like to call it so, till--oh, I have seensomething else besides theological seminaries since you used to teach mephilosophy! You say you have dreamed of me--yes, and much! You say youhave dreamed of me--yes, and I of you----"

  He broke off, shuddering.

  "Once," he began again abruptly, "I was working at a mine inEcuador----"

  "Not as a miner?"

  "No, as a miner's fag--odd-jobbing with the coolies. We had a barrack tosleep in at the pit's mouth; and one night--I had been ill, the sameas lately, and carrying stones in the blazing sun--I must have gotlight-headed, for I saw you come in at the door-way. You were holding acrucifix like that one on the wall. You were praying, and brushed pastme without turning. I cried out to you to help me--to give me poisonor a knife--something to put an end to it all before I went mad. Andyou--ah------!"

  He drew one hand across his eyes. Montanelli was still clasping theother.

  "I saw in your face that you had heard, but you never looked round;you went on with your prayers. When you had finished, and kissed thecrucifix, you glanced round and whispered: 'I am very sorry for you,Arthur; but I daren't show it; He would be angry.' And I looked at Him,and the wooden image was laughing.

  "Then, when I came to my senses, and saw the barrack and the coolieswith their leprosy, I understood. I saw that you care more to curryfavour with that devilish God of yours than to save me from any hell.And I have remembered that. I forgot just now when you touched me;I--have been ill, and I used to love you once. But there can be nothingbetween us but war, and war, and war. What do you want to hold my handfor? Can't you see that while you believe in your Jesus we can't beanything but enemies?"

  Montanelli bent his head and kissed the mutilated hand.

  "Arthur, how can I help believing in Him? If I have kept my faiththrough all these frightful years, how can I ever doubt Him any more,now that He has given you back to me? Remember, I thought I had killedyou."

  "You have that still to do."

  "Arthur!" It was a cry of actual terror; but the Gadfly went on,unheeding:

  "Let us be honest, whatever we do, and not shilly-shally. You and Istand on two sides of a pit, and it's hopeless trying to join handsacross it. If you have decided that you can't, or won't, give up thatthing"--he glanced again at the crucifix on the wall--"you must consentto what the colonel----"

  "Consent! My God--consent--Arthur, but I love you!"

  The Gadfly's face contracted fearfully.

  "Which do you love best, me or that thing?"

  Montanelli slowly rose. The very soul in him withered with dread, andhe seemed to shrivel up bodily, and to grow feeble, and old, and wilted,like a leaf that the frost has touched. He had awaked out of his dream,and the outer darkness was staring in upon an empty place.

  "Arthur, have just a little mercy on me----"

  "How much had you for me when your lies drove me out to be slave tothe blacks on the sugar-plantations? You shudder at that--ah, thesetender-hearted saints! This is the man after God's own heart--the manthat repents of his sin and lives. No one dies but his son. You say youlove me,--your love has cost me dear enough! Do you think I can blot outeverything, and turn back into Arthur at a fe
w soft words--I, that havebeen dish-washer in filthy half-caste brothels and stable-boy to Creolefarmers that were worse brutes than their own cattle? I, that havebeen zany in cap and bells for a strolling variety show--drudge andJack-of-all-trades to the matadors in the bull-fighting ring; I, thathave been slave to every black beast who cared to set his foot on myneck; I, that have been starved and spat upon and trampled under foot;I, that have begged for mouldy scraps and been refused because the dogshad the first right? Oh, what is the use of all this! How can I TELL youwhat you have brought on me? And now--you love me! How much do you loveme? Enough to give up your God for me? Oh, what has He done for you,this everlasting Jesus,--what has He suffered for you, that you shouldlove Him more than me? Is it for the pierced hands He is so dear to you?Look at mine! Look here, and here, and here----"

  He tore open his shirt and showed the ghastly scars.

  "Padre, this God of yours is an impostor, His wounds are sham wounds,His pain is all a farce! It is I that have the right to your heart!Padre, there is no torture you have not put me to; if you could onlyknow what my life has been! And yet I would not die! I have endured itall, and have possessed my soul in patience, because I would comeback and fight this God of yours. I have held this purpose as a shieldagainst my heart, and it has saved me from madness, and from the seconddeath. And now, when I come back, I find Him still in my place--thissham victim that was crucified for six hours, forsooth, and rose againfrom the dead! Padre, I have been crucified for five years, and I, too,have risen from the dead. What are you going to do with me? What are yougoing to do with me?"

  He broke down. Montanelli sat like some stone image, or like a dead manset upright. At first, under the fiery torrent of the Gadfly's despair,he had quivered a little, with the automatic shrinking of the flesh,as under the lash of a whip; but now he was quite still. After a longsilence he looked up and spoke, lifelessly, patiently:

  "Arthur, will you explain to me more clearly? You confuse and terrify meso, I can't understand. What is it you demand of me?"

  The Gadfly turned to him a spectral face.

  "I demand nothing. Who shall compel love? You are free to choose betweenus two the one who is most dear to you. If you love Him best, chooseHim."

  "I can't understand," Montanelli repeated wearily. "What is there I canchoose? I cannot undo the past."

  "You have to choose between us. If you love me, take that cross off yourneck and come away with me. My friends are arranging another attempt,and with your help they could manage it easily. Then, when we are safeover the frontier, acknowledge me publicly. But if you don't love meenough for that,--if this wooden idol is more to you than I,--then goto the colonel and tell him you consent. And if you go, then go at once,and spare me the misery of seeing you. I have enough without that."

  Montanelli looked up, trembling faintly. He was beginning to understand.

  "I will communicate with your friends, of course. But--to go withyou--it is impossible--I am a priest."

  "And I accept no favours from priests. I will have no more compromises,Padre; I have had enough of them, and of their consequences. You mustgive up your priesthood, or you must give up me."

  "How can I give you up? Arthur, how can I give you up?"

  "Then give up Him. You have to choose between us. Would you offer me ashare of your love--half for me, half for your fiend of a God? I willnot take His leavings. If you are His, you are not mine."

  "Would you have me tear my heart in two? Arthur! Arthur! Do you want todrive me mad?"

  The Gadfly struck his hand against the wall.

  "You have to choose between us," he repeated once more.

  Montanelli drew from his breast a little case containing a bit of soiledand crumpled paper.

  "Look!" he said.

  "I believed in you, as I believed in God. God is a thing made of clay,that I can smash with a hammer; and you have fooled me with a lie."

  The Gadfly laughed and handed it back. "How d-d-delightfully young oneis at nineteen! To take a hammer and smash things seems so easy. It'sthat now--only it's I that am under the hammer. As for you, there areplenty of other people you can fool with lies--and they won't even findyou out."

  "As you will," Montanelli said. "Perhaps in your place I should be asmerciless as you--God knows. I can't do what you ask, Arthur; but I willdo what I can. I will arrange your escape, and when you are safe I willhave an accident in the mountains, or take the wrong sleeping-draught bymistake--whatever you like to choose. Will that content you? It is allI can do. It is a great sin; but I think He will forgive me. He is moremerciful------"

  The Gadfly flung out both hands with a sharp cry.

  "Oh, that is too much! That is too much! What have I done that youshould think of me that way? What right have you---- As if I wanted tobe revenged on you! Can't you see that I only want to save you? Will younever understand that I love you?"

  He caught hold of Montanelli's hands and covered them with burningkisses and tears.

  "Padre, come away with us! What have you to do with this dead world ofpriests and idols? They are full of the dust of bygone ages; they arerotten; they are pestilent and foul! Come out of this plague-strickenChurch--come away with us into the light! Padre, it is we that are lifeand youth; it is we that are the everlasting springtime; it is we thatare the future! Padre, the dawn is close upon us--will you missyour part in the sunrise? Wake up, and let us forget the horriblenightmares,--wake up, and we will begin our life again! Padre, I havealways loved you--always, even when you killed me--will you kill meagain?"

  Montanelli tore his hands away. "Oh, God have mercy on me!" he criedout. "YOU HAVE YOUR MOTHER'S EYES!"

  A strange silence, long and deep and sudden, fell upon them both. In thegray twilight they looked at each other, and their hearts stood stillwith fear.

  "Have you anything more to say?" Montanelli whispered. "Any--hope togive me?"

  "No. My life is of no use to me except to fight priests. I am not a man;I am a knife. If you let me live, you sanction knives."

  Montanelli turned to the crucifix. "God! Listen to this----"

  His voice died away into the empty stillness without response. Only themocking devil awoke again in the Gadfly.

  "'C-c-call him louder; perchance he s-s-sleepeth'----"

  Montanelli started up as if he had been struck. For a moment he stoodlooking straight before him;--then he sat down on the edge of thepallet, covered his face with both hands, and burst into tears. A longshudder passed through the Gadfly, and the damp cold broke out on hisbody. He knew what the tears meant.

  He drew the blanket over his head that he might not hear. It was enoughthat he had to die--he who was so vividly, magnificently alive. But hecould not shut out the sound; it rang in his ears, it beat in his brain,it throbbed in all his pulses. And still Montanelli sobbed and sobbed,and the tears dripped down between his fingers.

  He left off sobbing at last, and dried his eyes with his handkerchief,like a child that has been crying. As he stood up the handkerchiefslipped from his knee and fell to the floor.

  "There is no use in talking any more," he said. "You understand?"

  "I understand," the Gadfly answered, with dull submission. "It's notyour fault. Your God is hungry, and must be fed."

  Montanelli turned towards him. The grave that was to be dug was not morestill than they were. Silent, they looked into each other's eyes, as twolovers, torn apart, might gaze across the barrier they cannot pass.

  It was the Gadfly whose eyes sank first. He shrank down, hiding hisface; and Montanelli understood that the gesture meant "Go!" He turned,and went out of the cell. A moment later the Gadfly started up.

  "Oh, I can't bear it! Padre, come back! Come back!"

  The door was shut. He looked around him slowly, with a wide, still gaze,and understood that all was over. The Galilean had conquered.

  All night long the grass waved softly in the courtyard below--the grassthat was so soon to wither, uprooted by the spade; and all night lon
gthe Gadfly lay alone in the darkness, and sobbed.