Vittoria — Complete

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE PLOT OF THE SIGNOR ANTONIO

  There was no concealment as to Laura's object in making request for theservices of Beppo. She herself knew it to be obvious that she intendedto probe and cross-examine the man, and in her wilfulness she chose tobe obtuse to opinion. She did not even blush to lean a secret ear abovethe stairs that she might judge, by the tones of Vittoria's voice uponher giving Beppo the order to wait, whether she was at the same timeconveying a hint for guardedness. But Vittoria said not a word: it wasAmmiani who gave the order. 'I am despicable in distrusting her fora single second,' said Laura. That did not the less encourage her toquestion Beppo rigorously forthwith; and as she was not to be deceivedby an Italian's affectation of simplicity, she let him answer two orthree times like a plain fool, and then abruptly accused him of standingprepared with these answers. Beppo, within his own bosom, immediatelyascribed to his sagacious instinct the mere spirit of opposition anddislike to serve any one save his own young mistress which had causedhim to irritate the signora and be on his guard. He proffered a candidadmission of the truth of the charge; adding, that he stood likewiseprepared with an unlimited number of statements. 'Questions, illustrioussignora, invariably put me on the defensive, and seem to cry for areturn thrust; and this I account for by the fact that my mother--theblessed little woman now among the Saints!--was questioned, brows andheels, by a ferruginously--faced old judge at the momentous period whenshe carried me. So that, a question--and I show point; but ask me for astatement, and, ah, signora!' Beppo delivered a sweep of the arm, as toindicate the spontaneous flow of his tongue.

  'I think,' said Laura, 'you have been a soldier, and a serving-man.'

  'And a scene-shifter, most noble signora, at La Scala.'

  'You accompanied the Signor Mertyrio to England when he was wounded?'

  'I did.'

  'And there you beheld the Signorina Vittoria, who was then bearing thename of Emilia Belloni?'

  'Which name she changed on her arrival in Italy, illustrious signora,for that of Vittoria Campa--"sull' campo dells gloria"--ah! ah!--her ownname being an attraction to the blow-flies in her own country. All thisis true.'

  'It should be a comfort to you! The Signor Mertyrio...'

  Beppo writhed his person at the continuance of the questionings, andobtaining a pause, he rushed into his statement: 'The Signor Mertyriowas well, and on the point of visiting Italy, and quitting thewave-embraced island of fog, of beer, of moist winds, and much money,and much kindness, where great hearts grew. The signorina correspondedwith him, and with him only.'

  'You know that, and will swear to it?' Laura exclaimed.

  Beppo thereby receiving the cue he had commenced beating for, swore toits truth profoundly, and straightway directed his statement to provethat his mistress had not been politically (or amorously, if thesuspicion aimed at her in those softer regions) indiscreet or blameablein any of her actions. The signorina, he said, never went out from herabode without the companionship of her meritorious mother and his ownmost humble attendance. He, Beppo, had a master and a mistress, theSignor Mertyrio and the Signorina Vittoria. She saw no foreigners:though--a curious thing!--he had seen her when the English language wastalked in her neighbourhood; and she had a love for that language: itmade her face play in smiles like an infant's after it has had suck andis full;--the sort of look you perceive when one is dreaming and hearsmusic. She did not speak to foreigners. She did not care to go toforeign cities, but loved Milan, and lived in it free and happy asan earwig in a ripe apricot. The circumvallation of Milan gave herelbow-room enough, owing to the absence of forts all round--'which knockone's funny-bone in Verona, signora.' Beppo presented a pure smile upona simple bow for acceptance. 'The air of Milan,' he went on, with lessconfidence under Laura's steady gaze, and therefore more forcing of hiscandour--'the sweet air of Milan gave her a deep chestful, so that shecould hold her note as long as five lengths of a fiddle-bow:--by thebody of Sant' Ambrogio, it was true!' Beppo stretched out his arm,and chopped his hand edgeways five testificatory times on theshoulder-ridge. 'Ay, a hawk might fly from St. Luke's head (on theDuomo) to the stone on San Primo over Como, while the signorina heldon her note! You listened, you gasped--you thought of a poet in hisdungeon, and suddenly, behold, his chains are struck off!--youthought of a gold-shelled tortoise making his pilgrimage to a beatificshrine!--you thought--you knew not what you thought!'

  Here Beppo sank into a short silence of ecstasy, and wakening from it,as with an ardent liveliness: 'The signora has heard her sing? How todescribe it! Tomorrow night will be a feast for Milan.'

  'You think that the dilettanti of Milan will have a delight to-morrownight?' said Laura; but seeing that the man's keen ear had caught noteof the ironic reptile under the flower, and unwilling to lose furthertime, she interdicted his reply.

  'Beppo, my good friend, you are a complete Italian--you wasteyour cleverness. You will gratify me by remembering that I am yourcountrywoman. I have already done you a similar favour by allowing youto air your utmost ingenuity. The reflection that it has been to nopurpose will neither scare you nor instruct you. Of that I am quiteassured. I speak solely to suit the present occasion. Now, don't seekto elude me. If you are a snake with friends as well as enemies, you arenothing but a snake. I ask you--you are not compelled to answer, butI forbid you to lie--has your mistress seen, or conversed and hadcorrespondence with any one receiving the Tedeschi's gold, man or woman?Can any one, man or woman, call her a traitress?'

  'Not twice!' thundered Beppo, with a furrowed red forehead.

  There was a noble look about the fellow as he stood with stiff legs ina posture, frowning--theatrical, but noble also; partly the look of aFigaro defending his honour in extremity, yet much like a statue of aFrench Marshal of the Empire.

  'That will do,' said Laura, rising. She was about to leave him, whenthe Duchess of Graatli's chasseur was ushered in, bearing a missive fromAmalia, her friend. She opened it and read:--

  'BEST BELOVED,--Am I soon to be reminded bitterly that there is a river of steel between my heart and me?

  'Fail not in coming to-night. Your new Bulbul is in danger. The silly thing must have been reading Roman history. Say not no! It intoxicates you all. I watch over her for my Laura's sake: a thousand kisses I shower on you, dark delicious soul that you are! Are you not my pine-grove leading to the evening star? Come, that we may consult how to spirit her away during her season of peril. Gulfs do not close over little female madcaps, my Laura; so we must not let her take the leap. Enter the salle when you arrive: pass down it once and return upon your steps; then to my boudoir. My maid Aennchen will conduct you. Addio. Tell this messenger that you come. Laura mine, I am for ever thy

  'AMALIA.'

  Laura signalled to the chasseur that her answer was affirmative. As hewas retiring, his black-plumed hat struck against Beppo, who thrusthim aside and gave the hat a dexterous kick, all the while keeping adecorous front toward the signora. She stood meditating. The enragedchasseur mumbled a word or two for Beppo's ear, in execrable Italian,and went. Beppo then commenced bowing half toward the doorway, and triedto shoot through, out of sight and away, in a final droop of excessiveservility, but the signora stopped him, telling him to consider himselfher servant until the morning; at which he manifested a surprisingreadiness, indicative of nothing short of personal devotion, andremained for two minutes after she had quitted the room. So much timehaving elapsed, he ran bounding down the stairs and found the hall-doorlocked, and that he was a prisoner during the signora's pleasure.The discovery that he was mastered by superior cunning, instead ofdisconcerting, quieted him wonderfully; so he put by the resources ofhis ingenuity for the next opportunity, and returned stealthily to hisstarting-point, where the signora found him awaiting her with composure.The man was in mortal terror lest he might be held guilty of a trustbetrayed, in leaving his mistress for an hour, even in obedience to hercommand, at this crisis: but it
was not in his nature to state the caseopenly to the signora, whom he knew to be his mistress's friend, or tothink of practising other than shrewd evasion to accomplish his duty andsatisfy his conscience.

  Laura said, without smiling, 'The street-door opens with a key,' andshe placed the key in his hand, also her fan to carry. Once out of thehouse, she was sure that he would not forsake his immediate charge ofthe fan: she walked on, heavily veiled, confident of his following. TheDuchess of Graatli's house neighboured the Corso Francesco; numerouscarriages were disburdening their freights of fair guests, and now andthen an Austrian officer in full uniform ran up the steps, glitteringunder the lamps. 'I go in among them,' thought Laura. It rejoiced herthat she had come on foot. Forgetting Beppo, and her black fan, as noItalian woman would have done but she who paced in an acute quivering ofthe anguish of hopeless remembrances and hopeless thirst of vengeance,she suffered herself to be conducted in the midst of the guests, andshuddered like one who has taken a fever-chill as she fulfilled theduchess's directions; she passed down the length of the saloon, througha light of visages that were not human to her sensations.

  Meantime Beppo, oppressed by his custody of the fan, and expecting thatmost serviceable lady's instrument to be sent for at any minute, stoodamong a strange body of semi-feudal retainers below, where he was soonsingled out by the duchess's chasseur, a Styrian, who, masking his furyunder jest, in the South-German manner, endeavoured to lead him up toan altercation. But Beppo was much too supple to be entrapped. Heapologized for any possible offences that he might have committed,assuring the chasseur that he considered one hat as good as another,and some hats better than others: in proof of extreme cordiality, heaccepted the task of repeating the chasseur's name, which was 'JacobBaumwalder Feckelwitz,' a tolerable mouthful for an Italian; and it waswith remarkable delicacy that Beppo contrived to take upon himself thewhole ridicule of his vile pronunciation of the unwieldy name. JacobBaumwalder Feckelwitz offered him beer to refresh him after the effort.While Beppo was drinking, he seized the fan. 'Good; good; a thousandthanks,' said Beppo, relinquishing it; 'convey it aloft, I beseech you.'He displayed such alacrity and lightness of limb at getting rid of it,that Jacob thrust it between the buttons of his shirtfront, returningit to his possession by that aperture. Beppo's head sank. A handful ofblack lace and cedarwood chained him to the spot! He entreated the menin livery to take the fan upstairs and deliver it to the Signora LauraPiaveni; but they, being advised by Jacob, refused. 'Go yourself,'said Jacob, laughing, and little prepared to see the victim, on whom hethought that for another hour at least he had got his great paw firmly,take him at his word. Beppo sprang into the hall and up the stairs. Theduchess's maid, ivory-faced Aennchen, was flying past him. She saw avery taking dark countenance making eyes at her, leaned her ear shyly,and pretending to understand all that was said by the rapid foreigntongue, acted from the suggestion of the sole thing which she didunderstand. Beppo had mentioned the name of the Signora Piaveni. 'Thisway,' she indicated with her finger, supposing that of course he wantedto see the signora very urgently.

  Beppo tried hard to get her to carry the fan; but she lifted her fingersin a perfect Susannah horror of it, though still bidding him to follow.Naturally she did not go fast through the dark passages, where thegame of the fan was once more played out, and with accompaniments. Theaccompaniments she objected to no further than a fish is agitated inescaping from the hook; but 'Nein, nein!' in her own language, and 'No,no!' in his, burst from her lips whenever he attempted to transfer thefan to her keeping. 'These white women are most wonderful!' thoughtBeppo, ready to stagger between perplexity and impatience.

  'There; in there!' said Aennchen, pointing to a light that camethrough the folds of a curtain. Beppo kissed her fingers as they tuggedunreluctantly in his clutch, and knew by a little pause that the casewas hopeful for higher privileges. What to do? He had not an instantto spare; yet he dared not offend a woman's vanity. He gave an ecstaticpressure of her hand upon his breastbone, to let her be sure she wasadored, albeit not embraced. After this act of prudence he went towardthe curtain, while the fair Austrian soubrette flew on her previouserrand.

  It was enough that Beppo found himself in a dark antechamber for him tobe instantly scrupulous in his footing and breathing. As he touched thecurtain, a door opened on the other side of the interior, and a tendergabble of fresh feminine voices broke the stillness and ran on like abrook coming from leaps to a level, and again leaping and making noiseof joy. The Duchess of Graatli had clasped the Signora Laura's two handsand drawn her to an ottoman, and between kissings and warmer claspings,was questioning of the little ones, Giacomo and her goddaughter Amalia.

  'When, when did I see you last?' she exclaimed. 'Oh! not since we metthat morning to lay our immortelles upon his tomb. My soul's sister!kiss me, remembering it. I saw you in the gateway--it seemed to me,as in a vision, that we had both had one warning to come for him, andknock, and the door would be opened, and our beloved would come forth!That was many days back. It is to me like a day locked up forever in acasket of pearl. Was it not an unstained morning, my own! If I weep, itis with pleasure. But,' she added with precipitation, 'weeping of anykind will not do for these eyelids of mine.' And drawing forth a tinygold-framed pocket-mirror she perceived convincingly that it would notdo.

  'They will think it is for the absence of my husband,' she said, as onlya woman can say it who deplores nothing so little as that.

  'When does he return from Vienna?' Laura inquired in the fallen voice ofher thoughtfulness.

  'I receive two couriers a week; I know not any more, my Laura. I believehe is pushing some connubial complaint against me at the Court. We havebeen married seventeen months. I submitted to the marriage because Icould get no proper freedom without, and now I am expected to abstainfrom the very thing I sacrificed myself to get! Can he hear that inVienna?' She snapped her fingers. 'If not, let him come and behold it inMilan. Besides, he is harmless. The Archduchess is all ears for the veryman of whom he is jealous. This is my reply: You told me to marry:I obeyed. My heart 's in the earth, and I must have distractions. Mypresent distraction is De Pyrmont, a good Catholic and a good Austriansoldier, though a Frenchman. I grieve to say--it's horrible--that itsometimes tickles me when I reflect that De Pyrmont is keen with thesword. But remember, Laura, it was not until after our marriage myhusband told me he could have saved Giacomo by the lifting of a finger.Away with the man!--if it amuses me to punish him, I do so.'

  The duchess kissed Laura's cheek, and continued:--'Now to the pointwhere we stand enemies! I am for Austria, you are for Italy. Good. But Iam always for Laura. So, there's a river between us and a bridge acrossit. My darling, do you know that we are much too strong for you, if youmean anything serious tomorrow night?'

  'Are you?' Laura said calmly.

  'I know, you see, that something is meant to happen to-morrow night.'

  Laura said, 'Do you?'

  'We have positive evidence of it. More than that: Your Vittoria--butdo you care to have her warned? She will certainly find herself in apitfall if she insists on carrying out her design. Tell me, do youcare to have her warned and shielded? A year of fortress-life is notagreeable, is not beneficial for the voice. Speak, my Laura.'

  Laura looked up in the face of her friend mildly with her large darkeyes, replying, 'Do you think of sending Major de Pyrmont to her to warnher?'

  'Are you not wicked?' cried the duchess, feeling that she blushed, andthat Laura had thrown her off the straight road of her interrogation.'But, play cards with open hands, my darling, to-night. Look:--She is indanger. I know it; so do you. She will be imprisoned perhaps before shesteps on the boards--who knows? Now, I--are not my very dreams all swornin a regiment to serve my Laura?--I have a scheme. Truth, it ishardly mine. It belongs to the Greek, the Signor Antonio PericlesAgriolopoulos. It is simply'--the duchess dropped her voice out ofBeppo's hearing--'a scheme to rescue her: speed her away to my chateaunear Meran in Tyrol.' 'Tyrol' was heard by Beppo. In his frenz
y at theloss of the context he indulged in a yawn, and a grimace, and a dance ofdisgust all in one; which lost him the next sentence likewise. 'Therewe purpose keeping her till all is quiet and her revolutionary feverhas passed. Have you heard of this Signor Antonio? He could buy up thekingdom of Greece, all Tyrol, half Lombardy. The man has a passion foryour Vittoria; for her voice solely, I believe. He is considered, nodoubt truly, a great connoisseur. He could have a passion for nothingelse, or alas!' (the duchess shook her head with doleful drollery)'would he insist on written securities and mortgages of my privateproperty when he lends me money? How different the world is from theromances, my Laura! But for De Pyrmont, I might fancy my smile wasreally incapable of ransoming an empire; I mean an emperor. Speak; theman is waiting to come; shall I summon him?'

  Laura gave an acquiescent nod.

  By this time Beppo had taken root to the floor. 'I am in the best placeafter all,' he said, thinking of the duties of his service. He wasperfectly well acquainted with the features of the Signor Antonio. Heknew that Luigi was the Signor Antonio's spy upon Vittoria, and that nopersonal harm was intended toward his mistress; but Beppo's heart was inthe revolt of which Vittoria was to give the signal; so, without a touchof animosity, determined to thwart him, Beppo waited to hear the SignorAntonio's scheme.

  The Greek was introduced by Aennchen. She glanced at the signora's lap,and seeing her still without her fan, her eye shot slyly up with hershining temple, inspecting the narrow opening in the curtain furtively.A short hush of preluding ceremonies passed.

  Presently Beppo heard them speaking; he was aghast to find that hehad no comprehension of what they were uttering. 'Oh, accursed Frenchdialect!' he groaned; discovering the talk to be in that tongue.The Signor Antonio warmed rapidly from the frigid politeness of hisintroductory manner. A consummate acquaintance with French was requiredto understand him. He held out the fingers of one hand in regimentalorder, and with the others, which alternately screwed his moustache fromits constitutional droop over the corners of his mouth, he touched theuplifted digits one by one, buzzing over them: flashing his white eyes,and shrugging in a way sufficient to madden a surreptitious listenerwho was aware that a wealth of meaning escaped him and mocked at him. Attimes the Signor Antonio pitched a note compounded half of cursing, halfof crying, it seemed: both pathetic and objurgative, as if he whimperedanathemas and had inexpressible bitter things in his mind. But therewas a remedy! He displayed the specific on a third finger. It was there.This being done (number three on the fingers), matters might still bewell. So much his electric French and gesticulations plainly asserted.Beppo strained all his attention for names, in despair at the riddle ofthe signs. Names were pillars of light in the dark unintelligible waste.The signora put a question. It was replied to with the name of theMaestro Rocco Ricci. Following that, the Signor Antonio accompanied hisvoluble delivery with pantomimic action which seemed to indicate theshutting of a door and an instantaneous galloping of horses--a flightinto air, any-whither. He whipped the visionary steeds with enthusiasticglee, and appeared to be off skyward like a mad poet, when the signoraagain put a question, and at once he struck his hand flat across hismouth, and sat postured to answer what she pleased with a glare ofpolite vexation. She spoke; he echoed her, and the duchess took up thesame phrase. Beppo was assisted by the triangular recurrence of thewords and their partial relationship to Italian to interpret them:'This night.' Then the signora questioned further. The Greek replied:'Mademoiselle Irma di Karski.'

  'La Lazzeruola,' she said.

  The Signor Antonio flashed a bit of sarcastic mimicry, as if acquiescingin the justice of the opprobrious term from the high point of view: butmademoiselle might pass, she was good enough for the public.

  Beppo heard and saw no more. A tug from behind recalled him to hissituation. He put out his arms and gathered Aennchen all dark in them:and first kissing her so heartily as to set her trembling on the vergeof a betrayal, before she could collect her wits he struck the fan downthe pretty hollow of her back, between her shoulder-blades, and boundedaway. It was not his intention to rush into the embrace of JacobBaumwalder Feckelwitz, but that perambulating chasseur received him ina semi-darkness where all were shadows, and exclaimed, 'Aennchen!' Beppogave an endearing tenderness to the few words of German known to him:'Gottschaf-donner-dummer!' and slipped from the hold of the astonishedJacob, sheer under his arm-pit. He was soon in the street, excitedhe knew not by what, or for what object. He shuffled the names heremembered to have just heard--'Rocco Ricci, and 'la Lazzeruola.' Whydid the name of la Lazzeruola come in advance of la Vittoria? And whatwas the thing meant by 'this night,' which all three had uttered as inan agreement?--ay! and the Tyrol! The Tyrol--this night-Rocco Ricci laLazzeruola!

  Beppo's legs were carrying him toward the house of the Maestro RoccoRicci ere he had arrived at any mental decision upon these imminentmysteries.