*CHAPTER XIII*
The Countess of Casa Caprona was a widow. The news was waiting tooverwhelm, or transport, her upon her return to the castello after herinterview with Lanti. On the one hand it committed her to dowagery,that last infirmity of imperious minds; on the other to the freedom of aglorified spinsterhood. Though she recognised that, on the whole, theblow was destructive of the real zest of intrigue, she behaved veryhandsomely by the memory of the deceased, who had died, like a soldier,in harness. She caused a solemn requiem mass to be sung for him in theDuomo; she commissioned a monody, extolling his marital virtues, from anexpensive poet; she distributed liberal alms to the poor of the city.There is no trollop so righteous in her matronhood as she made timely awidow. Besides, to this one, the zest of all zests for the moment wasrevenge. She withdrew to mature it, and to lament orthodoxly her lord,to her dower-house in the Via Sforza.
It was a very pretty spot for melancholy and meditation--cool, large,secluded, and its smooth, silent walks and bubbling fountains cloisteredin foliage. From its gardens one had glimpses of the castello and ofthe candied, biscuit-like pinnacles of the cathedral. Cypresses andlittle marble fauns broke between them the flowering intervals, andpeacocks on the gravel made wandering parterres of colour. Sometimes,musing in the shades, with a lock of her long hair between her lips, shewould pet her frowning fancy with the figure of a youthful Adam, goldenand glorious, approaching her down an avenue of this smiling paradise,making its mazes something less than scentless; and then, behold! alizard, perhaps, would wink on the terrace, and she would snatch andcrush the little palpitating life under her heel, cursing it for asymbol of the serpent desolating her Eden, and transforming it all intoa mirage of warmth and passion. Not Adam he, that lusted-for, but theangel at the gate, menacing and awful. She must be more and worse thanEve to seek to corrupt an angel.
Perhaps she was, in her most tortured, most animal moods. The sensuous,by training and heredity, had quite over-swollen and embedded in herbeautiful trunk the small spike of conscience, which as a child hadtormented, and which yet, at odd moments, would gall and tease her likean ancient wound. She might even have been stung by it into somedevotional self-sacrifice in her present phase of passion, could shehave been assured of, or believed in, its object's inaccessibility to ahigher grace of solicitation. But jealousy kept her ravening.
On a languorous noon of this week of losses she was lying, aconventionally social exile, having her hair combed and perfumed, in alittle green pavilion pitched in her grounds, when a heavy step on thegravel outside aroused her from a dream of voluptuous rumination. Thetread she recognised, yet, though moved by it to a little flutter ofcuriosity, would not so far alloy a drowsy ecstasy as to bid the visitorenter while it lasted. Hypnotised by the soft burrowing of the comb, sheclosed her eyes until the perfect moment was passed, when, with a sigh,she bade the intruder enter, and Narcisso came slouching in by theopening.
Beatrice dismissed her attendants with a look. She never spoke to herservants where a gesture would serve, and could draw hour-long silentenjoyment from the weary hands of tire-woman or slave, hairdresser orfanner, without a sign of embarrassment, or indeed understanding. Nowshe lay back, restful, impassive--indifferent utterly to any impressionher will for a solitary interview with this gross creature might makeupon them. And, indeed, there was little need for such concern. Hiredassassination, a recognised institution, explained many otherwisestrange conjunctions between the beauties and beasts of Milan.
The beast, in the present instance, behaved as was habitual with him inthe presence of this Circe. That is to say, he was awkward,deprecating, and, of stranger significance, devoted to truthfulness. Headored her, as Caliban Miranda, but more fearfully: was her slave, thegenii of the lamp of her loveliness, with which to be on any familiarterms, even of debasement, was enough. What did it matter that she paidhim with offence and disdain? Her use of him was as her use of somenecessary organic part of herself. And she might deprecate thenecessity; but the secret of it was, nevertheless, their commonproperty. Her beauty and his devotion were as near akin as blood andcomplexion. Perhaps some day, in the resurrection of the flesh, hewould be able to substantiate that kinship.
The thought may have been there in him, instinctive, unilluminated, ashe stood fumbling with his cap, and raising and lowering his hang-dogeyes, and waiting for her to open. Physically, at least, she showed noshame in implying his close right to her confidence. The noon was anoon of slumbering fires, and her mood a responsive one. A long whitecamisole, of the frailest tissue, rounded on her lower limbs, and,splitting at the waist, straddled her shoulders clingingly, leaving awarm breathing-space between. Round her full neck clung one loop ofemeralds; and to the picture her black falling hair made a tenderestframe, while the sun, penetrating the tilt above, finished all with amist of green translucence. A Circe, indeed, to this coarse and animalrogue, and alive with awful and covetable lusts, to which, nevertheless,he was an admitted procurer. He had not ceased to be in her pay andconfidence, cursed and repudiated though he had been by his master, hererst protector. He had not even resented that episode of his betrayalat her hands, though it had condemned him for a living to the role ofthe hired bravo. She might always do with him as she liked; overbid withone imperious word his fast pledges to others; convert his craftwheresoever she wished to her own profit. The more she condescended tohim, the more was he claimed a necessary part of her passions'functions. She discharged through him her hates and desires, and he wasbeatified in the choice of himself as their medium. There was asuggestion of understanding, of a conscious partnership between them, inthe very fulsomeness with which he abased himself before her.
'Well,' she murmured at last, 'hast drunk thy senses to such surfeitthat they drown in me?'
'Ay,' he mumbled, 'I could die looking.'
'A true Narcissus,' she scoffed; 'but I could wish a sweeter. Standaway, fellow. Your clothes offend me.'
He backed at once.
'Now,' she said, 'I can breathe. Deliver yourself!'
He heaved up his chest, and looked above her, concentrating his wits onan open loop of the tent, behind which a bird was flickering andchirping.
'I come, by Madonna's secret instructions, from privately informingMesser Lanti where Messer Bembo lies hidden,' he said, speaking as if byrote.
She nodded imperiously.
'What questions did he ask?'
'How I knew; and I answered, that I knew.'
'Good. That least was enough. Art a right rogue. Now will he go seekhim, and be drawn by his devotion into this net.'
Narcisso was silent.
'Will he not?' she demanded sharply.
The fellow dropped his eyes to her an instant.
'Madonna knows. He loves the Messer Saint. No doubt a' will hold byhim.'
'What then, fool?'
'They have not caught Messer Bembo yet, they at the forge--that is all.'
'How!' she cried angrily, 'when thou told'st me----'
'With humility, Madonna,' he submitted, 'I told thee naught but that heand this Montano were agreed on the State's disease.'
'Well?'
'But I never said on its cure.'
She frowned, leaning forward and again biting a strand of her hair--asullen trick with her in anger.
'A doctor of rhetoric, and so feeble in persuasion!' she mutteredscornfully.
'A' starts at a shadow, this saint,' pleaded Narcisso. 'A' must becoaxed, little by little, like a shy foal. We will have him in thehalter anon. Yet a' be only one out of five, when all's said.'
'Dolt!' she hissed. 'What are the other four, or their purpose, to me,save as a lever to my revenge? I foresee it all. Why telled'st me notbefore I sent thee? Now this gross lord, instead of himself tangling inthe meshes, will persuade the other back to court and reason andforgiveness, and I shall be worse than damned. Dolt, I could killthee!'
She rose to her height, furious,
and he shrunk cowering before her.
'Listen, Madonna,' he said, trembling: 'Canst net them all yet at oneswoop. Go tell Messer Ludovico, and certes a' will jump to destroy thenest and all in it, before a' inquires their degrees of guilt.'
She stared at him, still threatening.
'Why?'
'Why, says Madonna? Listen again, then. Does the Ser Simonetta trustMesser Ludovico, or Messer Ludovico love the Ser Simonetta? Thesecretary clings to the Duchess. If she falls, a' falls with her.'
'Again, thou tedious rogue, why should the Saint's destruction bringBona down?'
'A' would have his mouth shut from explaining.'
'Explaining what? I lose patience.'
'How a' came, a conspirator against the Duke, to be found wi' his wife'stroth ring in his possession. Here it be. I've filched it for thee atlast.'
She sprang to seize the token, glowing triumphant in a moment, andputting it on her own finger, pressed the clinched hand that enclosed itinto her bosom.
She laughed low and rejoicingly, shameless in the quick transition ofher mood.
'Good Narcisso! It is the Key at last! Let Lanti persuade him backnow--I am content. I hold them, and Bona too, in the hollow of thishand.'
She held it out, her right one, palm upwards, and, smiling, bade himkiss it.
'Rogue,' she said, 'to tease and vex me, and all the time this talismanin thy sleeve. Ay, make the most of it: snuffle and root. My dog hasdeserved of me.'
He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, as if he had drunk.
'Now,' she said, 'how wert successful? how won'st it, sweet put?'
'Took it from him, that was all.'
'How?'
'When a' came tumbling in and staggered in a swound. Had heard MesserAndrea relating of how 'twas on him as I entered. Ho, ho! thinks I,here's that, maybe, will pay the filching! and I dropped and got it, allin a moment like.'
'You never told me.'
'You never asked till yesterday. Then I had it not with me. Butto-day, thinks I, I'll bring it up my sleeve for a win-favour--a goodlast card.'
'No matter, since I have got it.'
She held it out, and gloated on its device and sparkle. She knew itwell: indeed it was a famous gem, the Sforza lion cut in cameo on a deeppure emerald, and known as the Lion ring.
'Hath he not missed it?' she murmured.
'Not by any sign a' gives. The sickness of that night still holds himhalf-amazed. A' thinks our fine doll, even, but a bug of it--fancies a'saw it in a dream like. They'd locked it away when he came to.'
'Poor worldling! Poor little new-born worldling! He shall cut hispretty teeth anon. Well--for Messer Lanti? Did he leap to the trail, orwhat?'
'That same moment. Belike they are together now.'
She stood musing a little: then heaved a sudden sigh.
'Poor boy,' she murmured, 'poor boy! is it I must seek to destroy thee!'
Her mood had veered again in a breath. Her eyes were full of a broodinglove and pity.
'Not for the first time,' muttered Narcisso.
She seemed not to hear him--to have grown oblivious of his presence.
'The song he sang to me!' she murmured: 'Ah, me, if that hour could bemine! A saint in heaven?--not Bona's! she hath a lord--no saint, did helove her. He looked at me: it came from his heart. If that hour couldbe mine! Not then--'twere a sin--but now! That onehour--cherished--unspent--the seed of the unquickened pledge between usto all eternity. I could be content, knowing him a saint through thatabstinence. My hour--_mine_--to passion to my breast--the shadow of thechild that would not be born to me. He looked at me--no spectre of adead lost love in his eyes--only a hopeless quest--bonds never to beriven. But now--Ah! I cannot kill him!'
She hid her eyes, shuddering. Narcisso, vaguely troubled, gloomed ather.
'You will not go to Messer Ludovico?' he said.
She returned to knowledge of him, as to a sense of pain out of oblivion.
'Go,' she said coldly. 'Leave all to me. You have done well, and beenpaid your wages.'
And he did not demur. It was not in her nature to gild her favoursunnecessarily. Gold came less lavishly from her than kisses. Herpounds of flesh were her most profitable assets. She was a spendthriftin everything but money.