Vittoria — Complete

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE PRIMA DONNA

  'Whover is in my box is my guest,' said the countess, adding aconvulsive imperative pressure on Carlo's arm, to aid the meaning of herdeep underbreath. She was a woman who rarely exacted obedience, and shewas spontaneously obeyed. No questions could be put, no explanationsgiven in the crash, and they threaded on amid numerous greetings in aplace where Milanese society had habitually ceased to gather, and founditself now in assembly with unconcealed sensations of strangeness. Acard lay on the table of the countess's private retiring-room: it borethe name of General Pierson. She threw off her black lace scarf.'Angelo Guidascarpi is in Milan,' she said. 'He has killed one of theLenkensteins, sword to sword. He came to me an hour after you left;the sbirri were on his track; he passed for my son. He is now under thecharge of Barto Rizzo, disguised; probably in this house. His brotheris in the city. Keep the cowl on your head as long as possible; if thesehounds see and identify you, there will be mischief.' She said no more,satisfied that she was understood, but opening the door of the box,passed in, and returned a stately acknowledgement of the salutations oftwo military officers. Carlo likewise bent his head to them; it was likebending his knee, for in the younger of the two intruders he recognizedLieutenant Pierson. The countess accepted a vacated seat; the cavity ofher ear accepted the General's apologies. He informed her that he deeplyregretted the intrusion; he was under orders to be present at theopera, and to be as near the stage as possible, the countess's box beingdesignated. Her face had the unalterable composure of a painted headupon an old canvas. The General persisted in tendering excuses. Shereplied, 'It is best, when one is too weak to resist, to submit to anoutrage quietly.' General Pierson at once took the position assigned tohim; it was not an agreeable one. Between Carlo and the lieutenant noattempt at conversation was made.

  The General addressed his nephew in English. 'Did you see the girlbehind the scenes, Wilfrid?'

  The answer was 'No.'

  'Pericles has her fast shut up in the Tyrol: the best habitat for her ifshe objects to a whipping. Did you see Irma?'

  'No; she has disappeared too.'

  'Then I suppose we must make up our minds to an opera without head ortail. As Pat said of the sack of potatoes, "'twould be a mighty finebeast if it had them."'

  The officers had taken refuge in their opera-glasses, and spoke whilegazing round the house.

  'If neither this girl nor Irma is going to appear, there is no positivenecessity for my presence here,' said the General, reduced to excusehimself to himself. 'I'll sit through the first scene and then beat aretreat. I might be off at once; the affair looks harmless enough only,you know, when there's nothing to see, you must report that you haveseen it, or your superiors are not satisfied.'

  The lieutenant was less able to cover the irksomeness of his situationwith easy talk. His glance rested on Countess Len a von Lenkenstein, aquick motion of whose hand made him say that he should go over to her.

  'Very well,' said the General; 'be careful that you give no hint ofthis horrible business. They will hear of it when they get home: timeenough!'

  Lieutenant Pierson touched at his sister's box on the way. She was veryexcited, asked innumerable things,--whether there was danger? whether hehad a whole regiment at hand to protect peaceable persons? 'Otherwise,'she said, 'I shall not be able to keep that man (her husband) in Italyanother week. He refused to stir out to-night, though we know thatnothing can happen. Your prima donna celestissima is out of harm's way.'

  'Oh, she is safe,--ze minx'; cried Antonio-Pericles, laughing andsaluting the Duchess of Graatli, who presented herself at the front ofher box. Major de Pyrmont was behind her, and it delighted the Greekto point them out to the English lady, with a simple intimation of thecharacter of their relationship, at which her curls shook sadly.

  'Pardon, madame,' said Pericles. 'In Italy, a husband away, ze friendtakes title: it is no more.'

  'It is very disgraceful,' she said.

  'Ze morales, madame, suit ze sun.'

  Captain Gambier left the box with Wilfrid, expressing in one sentencehis desire to fling Pericles over to the pit, and in another his beliefthat an English friend, named Merthyr Powys, was in the house.

  'He won't be in the city four-and-twenty hours,' said Wilfrid.

  'Well; you'll keep your tongue silent.'

  'By heavens! Gambier, if you knew the insults we have to submit to! Thetemper of angels couldn't stand it. I'm sorry enough for these fellows,with their confounded country, but it's desperate work to be civil tothem; upon my honour, it is! I wish they would stand up and let us haveit over. We have to bear more from the women than the men.'

  'I leave you to cool,' said Gambier.

  The delayed absence of the maestro from his post at the head of theorchestra, where the musicians sat awaiting him, seemed to confirm arumour that was now circling among the audience, warning all to preparefor a disappointment. His baton was brought in and laid on the book ofthe new overture. When at last he was seen bearing onward through themusic-stands, a low murmur ran round. Rocco paid no heed to it. Hisdemeanour produced such satisfaction in the breast of Antonio-Periclesthat he rose, and was guilty of the barbarism of clapping his hands.Meeting Ammiani in the lobby, he said, 'Come, my good friend, you shallhelp me to pull Irma through to-night. She is vinegar--we will mix herwith oil. It is only for to-night, to save that poor Rocco's opera.'

  'Irma!' said Ammiani; 'she is by this time in Tyrol. Your Irma will havesome difficulty in showing herself here within sixty hours.'

  'How!' cried Pericles, amazed, and plucking after Carlo to stop him. 'Ibet you--'

  'How much?'

  'I bet you a thousand florins you do not see la Vittoria to-night.'

  'Good. I bet you a thousand florins you do not see Irma.'

  'No Vittoria, I say!'

  'And I say, no Lazzeruola!'

  Agostino, who was pacing the lobby, sent Pericles distraught with thesame tale of the rape of Irma. He rushed to Signora Piaveni's box andheard it repeated. There he beheld, sitting in the background, an oldEnglish acquaintance, with whom Captain Gambier was conversing.

  'My dear Powys, you have come all the way from England to see yourfavourite's first night. You will be shocked, sir. She has neglectedher Art. She is exiled, banished, sent away to study and to compose hermind.'

  'I think you are mistaken,' said Laura. 'You will see her almostimmediately.'

  'Signora, pardon me; do I not know best?'

  'You may have contrived badly.'

  Pericles blinked and gnawed his moustache as if it were food forpatience.

  'I would wager a milliard of francs,' he muttered. With absolute pathoshe related to Mr. Powys the aberrations of the divinely-gifted voice,the wreck which Vittoria strove to become, and from which he alonewas striving to rescue her. He used abundant illustrations, coarse andquaint, and was half hysterical; flashing a white fist and thumpingthe long projection of his knee with a wolfish aspect. His grotesquesincerity was little short of the shedding of tears.

  'And your sister, my dear Powys?' he asked, as one returning to theconsideration of shadows.

  'My sister accompanies me, but not to the opera.'

  'For another campaign--hein?'

  'To winter in Italy, at all events.'

  Carlo Ammiani entered and embraced Merthyr Powys warmly. The Englishmanwas at home among Italians: Pericles, feeling that he was not so, andregarding them all as a community of fever-patients without hospital,retired. To his mind it was the vilest treason, the grossestselfishness, to conspire or to wink at the sacrifice of a voicelike Vittoria's to such a temporal matter as this, which they calledpatriotism. He looked on it as one might look on the Hindoo drama of aSuttee. He saw in it just that stupid action of a whole body of fanaticscombined to precipitate the devotion of a precious thing to extinction.And worse; for life was common, and women and Hindoo widows were common;but a Vittorian voice was but one in a generation--in a cycle ofyears. The religious
belief of the connoisseur extended to the devoutconception that her voice was a spiritual endowment, the casting ofwhich priceless jewel into the bloody ditch of patriots was far moretragic and lamentable than any disastrous concourse of dedicated lives.He shook the lobby with his tread, thinking of the great night thismight have been but for Vittoria's madness. The overture was coming toan end. By tightening his arms across his chest he gained some outwardcomposure, and fixed his eyes upon the stage.

  While sitting with Laura Piaveni and Merthyr Powys, Ammiani saw theapparition of Captain Weisspriess in his mother's box. He forgot herinjunction, and hurried to her side, leaving the doors open. His passionof anger spurned her admonishing grasp of his arm, and with his glovehe smote the Austrian officer on the face. Weisspriess plucked his swordout; the house rose; there was a moment like that of a wild beast'sshow of teeth. It passed: Captain Weisspriess withdrew in obedience toGeneral Pierson's command. The latter wrote on a slip of paper that twopieces of artillery should be placed in position, and a squad of menabout the doors: he handed it out to Weisspriess.

  'I hope,' the General said to Carlo, 'we shall be able to arrange thingsfor you without the interposition of the authorities.'

  Carlo rejoined, 'General, he has the blood of our family on his hands. Iam ready.'

  The General bowed. He glanced at the countess for a sign of maternalweakness, saw none, and understood that a duel was down in the morrow'sbill of entertainments, as well as a riot possibly before dawn. Thehouse had revealed its temper in that short outburst, as a quivering ofquick lightning-flame betrays the forehead of the storm.

  Countess Ammiani bade her son make fast the outer door. Her sedateenergies could barely control her agitation. In helping AngeloGuidascarpi to evade the law, she had imperilled her son and herself.Many of the Bolognese sbirri were in pursuit of Angelo. Some knew hisperson; some did not; but if those two before whom she had identifiedAngelo as being her son Carlo chanced now to be in the house, and tohave seen him, and heard his name, the risks were great and various.

  'Do you know that handsome young Count Ammiani?' Countess Lena said toWilfrid. 'Perhaps you do not think him handsome? He was for a short timea play-fellow of mine. He is more passionate than I am, and that doesnot say a little; I warn you! Look how excited he is. No wonder. Heis--everybody knows it--he is la Vittoria's lover.'

  Countess Lena uttered that sentence in Italian. The soft tongue sent itlike a coiling serpent through Wilfrid's veins. In English or in Germanit would not have possessed the deadly meaning.

  She may have done it purposely, for she and her sister Countess Annastudied his face. The lifting of the curtain drew all eyes to the stage.

  Rocco Ricci's baton struck for the opening of one of his spiritedchoruses; a chorus of villagers, who sing to the burden that Happiness,the aim of all humanity, has promised to visit the earth this day, thatshe may witness the union of the noble lovers, Camillo and Camilla. Thena shepherd sings a verse, with his hand stretched out to the impendingcastle. There lives Count Orso: will he permit their festivities to passundisturbed? The puling voice is crushed by the chorus, which proteststhat the heavens are above Count Orso. But another villager tells ofOrso's power, and hints at his misdeeds. The chorus rises in reply,warning all that Count Orso has ears wherever three are congregated; thevillagers break apart and eye one another distrustfully, reunitingto the song of Happiness before they disperse. Camillo enters solus.Montini, as Camillo, enjoyed a warm reception; but as he advanced todeliver his canzone, it was seen that he and Rocco interchanged glancesof desperate resignation. Camillo has had love passages with Michiella,Count Orso's daughter, and does not hesitate to declare that he dreadsher. The orphan Camilla, who has been reared in yonder castle with her,as her sister, is in danger during all these last minutes which stillretain her from his arms.

  'If I should never see her--I who, like a poor ghost upon the shores ofthe dead river, have been flattered with the thought that she would fallupon my breast like a ray of the light of Elysium--if I should never seeher more!' The famous tenore threw his whole force into that outcry ofprojected despair, and the house was moved by it: there were many in thehouse who shared his apprehension of a foul mischance.

  Thenceforward the opera and the Italian audience were as one. All thatwas uttered had a meaning, and was sympathetically translated.Camilla they perceived to be a grave burlesque with a core to it. Thequick-witted Italians caught up the interpretation in a flash. 'CountOrso' Austria; 'Michiella' is Austria's spirit of intrigue; 'Camillo' isindolent Italy, amorous Italy, Italy aimless; 'Camilla' is YOUNG ITALY!

  Their eagerness for sight of Vittoria was now red-hot, and when Camilloexclaimed 'She comes!' many rose from their seats.

  A scrap of paper was handed to Antonio-Pericles from CaptainWeisspriess, saying briefly that he had found Irma in the carriageinstead of the little 'v,' thanked him for the joke, and had brought herback. Pericles was therefore not surprised when Irma, as Michiella, cameon, breathless, and looking in an excitement of anger; he knew that hehad been tricked.

  Between Camillo and Michiella a scene of some vivacityensued--reproaches, threats of calamity, offers of returning endearmentupon her part; a display of courtly scorn upon his. Irma made her voiceclaw at her quondam lover very finely; it was a voice with claws, thatentered the hearing sharp-edged, and left it plucking at its repose.She was applauded relishingly when, after vainly wooing him, she turnedaside and said--

  'What change is this in one who like a reed Bent to my twisting hands? Does he recoil? Is this the hound whom I have used to feed With sops of vinegar and sops of oil?'

  Michiella's further communications to the audience make it known thatshe has allowed the progress toward the ceremonies of espousal betweenCamillo and Camilla, in order, at the last moment, to show her powerover the youth and to plunge the detested Camilla into shame andwretchedness.

  Camillo retires: Count Orso appears. There is a duet between father anddaughter: she confesses her passion for Camillo, and entreats her fatherto stop the ceremony; and here the justice of the feelings of Italians,even in their heat of blood, was noteworthy. Count Orso says that hewould willingly gratify his daughter, as it would gratify himself, butthat he must respect the law. 'The law is of your own making,' saysMichiella. 'Then, the more must I respect it,' Count Orso replies.

  The audience gave Austria credit for that much in a short murmur.

  Michiella's aside, 'Till anger seizes him I wait!' created laughter; itcame in contrast with an extraordinary pomposity of self-satisfactionexhibited by Count Orso--the flower-faced, tun-bellied basso, Lebruno.It was irresistible. He stood swollen out like a morning cock. To makeit further telling, he took off his yellow bonnet with a black-glovedhand, and thumped the significant colours prominently on his immensechest--an idea, not of Agostino's, but Lebruno's own; and Agostinocursed with fury. Both he and Rocco knew that their joint labour wouldprobably have only one night's display of existence in the Austriandominions, but they grudged to Lebruno the chief merit of despatching itto the Shades.

  The villagers are heard approaching. 'My father!' cries Michiella,distractedly; 'the hour is near: it will be death to your daughter!Imprison Camillo: I can bring twenty witnesses to prove that he hassworn you are illegally the lord of this country. You will rue themarriage. Do as you once did. Be bold in time. The arrow-head is on thestring-cut the string!'

  'As I once did?' replies Orso with frown terrific, like a black crest.He turns broadly and receives the chorus of countrymen in paternalfashion--an admirably acted bit of grave burlesque.

  By this time the German portion of the audience had, by one or otherof the senses, dimly divined that the opera was a shadow of somethingconcealed--thanks to the buffo-basso Lebruno. Doubtless they wouldhave seen this before, but that the Austrian censorship had seemed soabsolute a safeguard.

  'My children! all are my children in this my gladsome realm!' Count Orsosays, and marches forth, after receiving th
e compliment of a choric songin honour of his paternal government. Michiella follows him.

  Then came the deep suspension of breath. For, as upon the midnight youcount bell-note after bell-note of the toiling hour, and know not in thedarkness whether there shall be one beyond it, so that you hang overan abysm until Twelve is sounded, audience and actors gazed with equalexpectation at the path winding round from the castle, waiting for thevoice of the new prima donna.

  'Mia madre!' It issued tremblingly faint. None could say who was toappear.

  Rocco Ricci struck twice with his baton, flung a radiant glance acrosshis shoulders for all friends, and there was joy in the house. Vittoriastood before them.