The Betrothed Part 7

He arrived at the convent in time to perform his daily duty in the choir, dined, and then pursued his way towards the den of the wild beast he had undertaken to tame.

The palace of Don Roderick stood by itself, on the summit of one of the promontories that skirt the coast; it was three or four miles distant from the village; at the foot of the promontory nearest the lake, there was a cl.u.s.ter of decayed cottages inhabited by peasantry belonging to Don Roderick. This was the little capital of his little kingdom. As you cast a glance within their walls, you beheld suspended to them various kinds of arms, with spades, mattocks, and pouches of powder, blended promiscuously. The persons within appeared robust and strong, with a daring and insulting expression of countenance, and wearing a long lock of hair on the head, which was covered with net-work. The aged, that had lost their teeth, seemed ready to show their gums at the slightest call: masculine women, with sinewy arms, seemed disposed to use them with as much indifference as their tongues; the very children exhibited the same daring recklessness as the parent stock. Friar Christopher pa.s.sed through the hamlet, ascending a winding path which conducted him to the little esplanade in the front of the castle. The door was shut, which was a sign that the chief was dining and did not wish to be disturbed.

The few windows that looked on the road were small and decayed by time; they were, however, secured by large iron bars; and the lowest of them were more than ten feet from the ground. A profound silence reigned within, and a traveller might have believed the mansion deserted, but for the appearance of four animals, two alive and two dead, in front of the castle. Two large vultures, with their wings expanded, were nailed each at the posts of the gate; and two bravoes, extended at full length on the benches on either side, were keeping guard until their master should have finished his repast. The father stopped, as if willing also to wait. "Father, father, come on," said one, "we do not make the capuchins wait here; we are the friends of the convent; I have been within its walls when the air on the outside of them was not very wholesome for me; it was well the fathers did not refuse me admittance."

So saying, he gave two strokes with the knocker: at the sound, the howls of mastiffs were heard from within; and in a few moments there appeared an aged domestic. On seeing the father, he bowed reverently, quieted the animals with his voice, introduced the guest into a narrow court, and closed the gate. Then escorting him into a saloon, and regarding him with an astonished and respectful look, said, "Is not this--the Father Christopher of Pescarenico?"

"The same."

"And here!"

"As you see, good man."

"It must be to do good," continued he, murmuring between his teeth; "good can be done every where." He then guided him through two or three dark halls, and led the way to the banqueting room: here was heard a confused noise of plates, and knives and forks, and discordant voices.

Whilst Father Christopher was urging the domestic to suffer him to remain in some other apartment until the dinner should be finished, the door opened. A certain Count Attilio, a cousin of the n.o.ble host, (of whom we have already spoken, without giving his name,) was seated opposite: when he saw the bald head and habit of the father, and perceived his motion to withdraw, "Ho! father," cried he, "you sha'n't escape us; reverend father, forward, forward!" Don Roderick seconded somewhat unwillingly this boisterous command, as he felt some presentiment of the object of his visit. "Come, father, come in," said he. Seeing there was no retreating, Father Christopher advanced, saluting the n.o.bleman and his guests.

An honest man is generally fearless and undaunted in presence of the wicked; nevertheless, the father, with the testimony of a good conscience and a firm conviction of the justice of his cause, with a mixture of horror and compa.s.sion for Don Roderick, felt a degree of embarra.s.sment in approaching him. He was seated at table, surrounded by guests; on his right was Count Attilio, his colleague in libertinism, who had come from Milan to visit him. To the left was seated, with respectful submissiveness, tempered, however, with conscious security, the _podesta_ of the place,--he whose duty it was, according to the proclamation, to cause justice to be done to Renzo Tramaglino, and to inflict the allotted penalty on Don Roderick. Nearly opposite to the _podesta_ sat our learned Doctor _Azzecca Garbugli_, with his black cap and his red nose; and over against him two obscure guests, of whom our story says nothing beyond a general mention of their toad-eating qualities.

"Give a seat to the father," said Don Roderick. A servant presented a chair, and the good father apologised for having come at so inopportune an hour. "I would speak with you alone on an affair of importance,"

added he, in a low tone, to Don Roderick.

"Very well, father, it shall be so," replied he; "but in the meanwhile bring the father something to drink."

Father Christopher would have refused, but Don Roderick, raising his voice above the tumult of the table, cried, "No, by Bacchus, you shall not do me this wrong; a capuchin shall never leave this house without having tasted my wine, nor an insolent creditor without having tasted the wood of my forests." These words produced a universal laugh, and interrupted for a moment the question which was hotly agitated between the guests. A servant brought the wine, of which Father Christopher partook, feeling the necessity of propitiating the host.

"The authority of Ta.s.so is against you, respected Signor _Podesta_,"

resumed aloud the Count Attilio: "this great man was well acquainted with the laws of knighthood, and he makes the messenger of Argantes, before carrying the defiance of the Christian knights, ask permission from the pious Bouillon."

"But that," replied vociferously the _podesta_, "that is poetical licence merely: an amba.s.sador is in his nature inviolable, by the law of nations, _jure gentium_; and moreover, the amba.s.sador, not having spoken in his own name, but merely presented the challenge in writing----"

"But when will you comprehend that this amba.s.sador was a daring fool, who did not know the first----"

"With the good leave of our guests," interrupted Don Roderick, who did not wish the argument to proceed farther, "we will refer it to the Father Christopher, and submit to his decision."

"Agreed," said Count Attilio, amused at submitting a question of knighthood to a capuchin; whilst the _podesta_ muttered between his teeth, "Folly!"

"But, from what I have comprehended," said the father, "it is a subject of which I have no knowledge."

"As usual, modest excuses from the father," said Don Roderick; "but we will not accept them. Come, come, we know well that you came not into the world with a cowl on your head; you know something of its ways.

Well, how stands the argument?"

"The facts are these," said the Count Attilio----

"Let me tell, who am neutral, cousin," resumed Don Roderick. "This is the story: a Spanish knight sent a challenge to a Milanese knight; the bearer, not finding him at home, presented it to his brother, who, having read it, struck the bearer many blows. The question is----"

"It was well done; he was perfectly right," cried Count Attilio.

"There was no right about it," exclaimed the _podesta_. "To beat an amba.s.sador--a man whose person is sacred! Father, do _you_ think this was an action becoming a knight?"

"Yes, sir; of a knight," cried the count, "I think I know what belongs to a knight. Oh! if it had been an affair of fists, that would have been quite another thing, but a cudgel soils no one's hands."

"I am not speaking of this, Sir Count; I am speaking of the _laws_ of knighthood. But tell me, I pray you, if the messengers that the ancient Romans sent to bear defiance to other nations, asked permission to deliver the message; find, if you can, a writer who relates that such messenger was ever cudgelled."

"What have the ancient Romans to do with us? a people well enough in some things, but in others, far, far behind. But according to the laws of modern knighthood, I maintain that a messenger, who dared place in the hands of a knight a challenge without having previously asked permission, is a rash fool who deserves to be cudgelled."

"But answer me this question----"

"No, no, no."

"But hear me. To strike an unarmed person is an act of treachery.

_Atqui_ the messenger _de quo_ was without arms. _Ergo_----"

"Gently, gently, Signor _Podesta_."

"How? gently."

"Gently, I tell you; I concede that under other circ.u.mstances this might have been called an act of treachery, but to strike a low fellow! It would have been a fine thing truly, to say to him, as you would to a gentleman, Be on your guard! And you, Sir Doctor, instead of sitting there grinning your approbation of my opinion, why do you not aid me to convince this gentleman?"

"I," replied the doctor in confusion; "I enjoy this learned dispute, and am thankful for the opportunity of listening to a war of wit so agreeable. And moreover, I am not competent to give an opinion; his most ill.u.s.trious lordship has appointed a judge--the father."

"True," said Don Roderick; "but how can the judge speak when the disputants will not keep silence?"

"I am dumb," said the Count Attilio. The _podesta_ made a sign that he would be quiet.

"Well! father! at last!" said Don Roderick, with comic gravity.

"I have already said, that I do not comprehend----"

"No excuses! we must have your opinion."

"If it must be so," replied the father, "I should humbly think there was no necessity for challenges, nor bearers, nor blows."

The guests looked in wonder at each other.

"Oh! how ridiculous!" said the Count Attilio. "Pardon me, father; but this is exceedingly ridiculous. It is plain you know nothing of the world."

"He?" said Don Roderick; "he knows as much of it as you do, cousin. Is it not so, father?"

Father Christopher made no reply; but to himself he said, "submit thyself to every insult for the sake of those for whom thou art here."

"It may be so," said the count; "but the father----how is the father called?"

"Father Christopher," replied more than one.

"But, Father Christopher, your reverend worship, with your maxims you would turn the world upside down--without challenges! without blows!

Farewell, the point of honour! Impunity to ruffians! Happily, the thing is impossible."

"Stop, doctor," cried Don Roderick, wishing to divert the dispute from the original antagonists. "You are a good man for an argument; what have you to say to the father?"

"Indeed," replied the doctor, brandishing his fork in the air--"indeed I cannot understand how the Father Christopher should not remember that his judgment, though of just weight in the pulpit, is worth nothing--I speak with great submission--on a question of knighthood. But perhaps he has been merely jesting, to relieve himself from embarra.s.sment."