The Patriot Part 45

Two years before their marriage they had made an excursion with a party of friends to Drano and the Ranc, high pasture-lands of the Valsolda, on the way to the Pa.s.so Stretto. They had had a lively dispute, and had sulked and suffered for an hour. "Yes," Luisa replied, "I remember." At the same moment both realised how different was the present hour, and how painful it was to have to admit the difference. They did not speak again until they reached the corner. Bells rang out on the Isola dei Pescatori. Franco dropped his wife's arm, and leaned upon the parapet.

The misty lake was silent; nothing was to be seen save the lights on the other island. The lake, the mist, those lights, those bells, which might have belonged to a ship lost at sea, the silence of all things, even the infrequent, tiny rain-drops, everything was so sad!

"And do you remember afterwards?" Franco murmured, without turning his head. Luisa was also leaning against the parapet. She was silent for a moment, and then answered in an undertone:

"Yes, dear."

And in her "dear," there was a slight and hidden beginning of warmth, of affectionate emotion. Franco felt it, and thrilled with joy, but controlled himself.

"I am thinking," he went on, "of the letter I wrote you as soon as I got home, and of the three words you said to me next day, at Muzzaglio, when the others were dancing under the chestnut-trees, and you pa.s.sed close to me on your way to get your shawl, which you had left on the gra.s.s. Do you remember?"

"Yes."

He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

"And do you also remember that I slipped before we reached the bridge, and that you said: 'My dear sir, it is your place to support me!'"

Luisa did not answer, but pressed his hands.

"I have been good for nothing," he added sadly. "I have not known how to support you."

"You have done all you could."

Luisa's voice, as she spoke these words, was indeed faint, but very different from when she had said: "My heart is so cold."

Once more her husband drew her arm through his, and they returned to the landing-stage. The dear arm was less pa.s.sive than before, and betrayed agitation and a struggle. Franco stopped, and said softly:

"And if I am called to join Maria? What shall I say to her from you?"

She began to tremble, and resting her head on his shoulder, whispered: "No, stay here!" Franco did not hear the words, and repeated: "What?"

There was no answer, and very slowly he bent his head towards her, saw her lips seeking his, and pressed his own upon them. His heart was beating fast, faster than when he had kissed Luisa for the first time as her lover. He raised his head, but could not speak. At last he succeeded in saying these words: "I will tell her you have promised----" "No,"

murmured Luisa, in great distress. "I cannot do that. You must not ask it of me! It is no longer possible!"

"What is not possible?"

"Oh, you understand quite well! I also understood what you meant!"

She started forward as if to flee from the subject, but still clinging to Franco's arm, and he held her back.

"Luisa," said he gravely, almost severely, "will you let me go away like this? Do you realise what it means to me to go away like this?"

Then she slowly withdrew her arm from his, and turned towards the parapet on the right, leaning upon it, and gazing into the water as she had done that night at Oria. Franco stood quietly beside her; waited a few moments, and then begged her to answer his question.

"It would be better for me to end it all in the lake," she said bitterly. Her husband pa.s.sed his arm round her waist, pulled her away from the parapet, and then letting her go, threw up his arm with a gesture of protest. "You!" said he indignantly. "You talk thus? You who used to prate of looking upon life as a battle? And is this the way you fight? Once I believed you were the stronger of us two. Now I know it is I who am the stronger. Much the stronger! Can you not even imagine what I have suffered during all these years? Can you not----" For a moment his voice failed him, but he quickly controlled himself and went on.

"Can you not even understand what you are to me, and what I would give to be able to spare you the slightest pain? While you, it would seem, do not care how cruelly you rend my soul!" She flung herself into his arms.

In the silence that ensued, broken only by her spasmodic and suppressed sobbing, Franco heard steps approaching, and with difficulty freed himself from her embrace and induced her to turn with him towards the hotel. "You naughty girl!" he whispered. "And it is you who don't want me to be glad to die, when I can die so gloriously for my country!"

Luisa pressed his arm without speaking. They met two young lovers, who looked curiously at them in pa.s.sing. The girl smiled. When they reached the short flight of steps that leads down to the little square in front of S. Vittore, they heard voices of women and girls. Luisa paused a moment on the first step, and said softly the three words she had spoken at Muzzaglio.

"I love you!"

Franco did not answer, but pressed her arm. Very slowly they went down the stairs, and entered the Albergo del Delfino.

Some young men who were drinking, smoking, and laughing, rose as Franco and Luisa entered, and came towards them. "Signora," said the first to present himself to Luisa, "your husband has probably announced to you the visit of the Seven Wise Men." A great hubbub immediately ensued, because Franco had forgotten to tell Luisa that his friends had accompanied him from Turin, but, not wishing to intrude, had gone on to Pallanza promising to come and pay their respects to the Signora in the evening. They had come over from Pallanza in a row-boat, and had intended returning immediately, but Franco ordered a couple of bottles of wine and, soon, in spite of Luisa's presence, their hilarity became such that the proprietor begged them, for love of his English family, to make less noise.

After arranging with Franco to meet him in the morning on board the first steamer, the Wise Men took themselves off. Franco accompanied them to the boat and Luisa went to look after Uncle Piero. He had left word for them with the proprietor that, feeling very sleepy, he had gone to bed. In fact Luisa could hear him snoring noisily. She put the candle down, and waited for Franco.

He came up almost immediately, and was surprised to hear that the uncle was already asleep. He had wished to say good-bye to him before going to bed, as his boat was leaving so early in the morning--at half-past five.

The door between the two rooms was closed, but nevertheless Luisa begged her husband to step and speak softly. She told him what Cia had confided to her. The uncle needed rest. She hoped he would remain in bed until nine or ten o'clock, and she intended to start at one, and spend the night at Magadino, in order not to tire him too much. She laid great stress upon her apprehensions concerning Uncle Piero's health, and talked incessantly, nervously, anxious to avoid other topics, seeking thus to escape too tender caresses. At the same time she was continually moving about the room, repeatedly taking up and putting down the same objects, and this partly from nervousness, partly with the intention that her husband should go to bed before her. He, for his part, was intent upon a side-bag, which he was finding difficulty in opening. At last he succeeded, and, calling his wife to him, gave her a roll containing fifty twenty-franc pieces. "I know," said he, "that I shall not be able to send you anything for some months. This money is not mine, I have borrowed it." Then he drew a sealed letter from his pocket.

"And this," he added, "is my will. I have little to leave, but of course I must dispose of that little. I have made only one legacy. My father's scarf-pin, which you have, is to go to Uncle Piero. I have also set down the name of the person who loaned me the thousand francs. Besides the will the letter contains a few words for you alone. That is all." He spoke with grave sweetness, and without agitation. Her hands trembled as she took the letter. "Thank you," she said, and began to unbraid her hair, but she immediately twisted it up again, hardly conscious of what she was doing, in her struggle with the phantom of the dead child, and with another vision of war and death. She said brokenly that, as she must be up so early to accompany Franco to the boat, she thought she would lie down with her clothes on, and not loosen her hair. Franco made no comment, but having said a short prayer, began to undress. From his neck he unclasped a little chain from which hung a small gold cross.

This had belonged to his mother. "I wish you to keep this," said he, offering it to Luisa. "It will be safer. It might, perhaps, fall into the hands of the Croatians." She was horrified, she shuddered, hesitated a moment, then threw her arms about his neck, and pressed him to her in a pa.s.sionate embrace.

The waiter knocked at their door at about half-past four. At five Franco took the candle and went into Uncle Piero's room. He was already awake.

Franco said good-bye to him, and then proposed to Luisa that they also take leave of each other in the privacy of their own room. In her face and voice there was an expression of grave and painful stupor. She displayed no agitation, and did not weep, but embraced and kissed her husband as one in a dream, and, still in a dazed state, followed him downstairs. Did a flash from the thought that was filling her soul pa.s.s into his? If so, it happened in the little hotel parlour, while he was taking his coffee, his wife seated opposite him. He seemed suddenly to discover something in that glance, in that expression, for he paused to study her, cup in hand, while ineffable tenderness, anxiety and emotion overspread his face. She evidently had no wish to speak, but he longed to do so. A hidden word quivered in all the muscles of his face, and shone in his eyes, but his mouth did not venture to utter it.

Hand in hand they went down to the landing-stage, and leaned against the wall where Luisa had leaned the day before. When they heard the noise of the paddles, they embraced for the last time and said good-bye without tears, troubled rather by the hidden thought harboured by both than afflicted by the separation. The steamer came in noisily, the ropes were flung ash.o.r.e and made fast. A bell rang. One kiss more! "G.o.d bless you!"

said Franco, and hurried on board.

She lingered as long as she could hear the noise of the paddles, as the steamer glided towards Stressa. Then she returned to the hotel, sank upon the bed, and sat there as one turned to stone, engrossed in the idea, in the instinctive certainty, that maternity awaited her a second time.

Although this was precisely what she had so greatly feared it cannot be said that now she was grieved. All other sentiments were subdued by the wonder of listening to a strong, inward voice, that was so clear and still so inexplicable. She was dazed. Since Maria's death she had firmly believed that the Book of Destiny could contain nothing new for her, that certain secret fibres of her heart were dead. And now a mysterious voice was speaking within that heart, saying: Know that one page in the book of your destiny is finished, and the leaf has been turned. For you there is still a future of intense living. The drama that you believed had come to an end at the second act, is to continue, and if I Myself announce it to you, it must indeed prove wonderful!

For three hours, until Uncle Piero called her, she sat there, absorbed in this voice.

The uncle rose at half-past nine; he was feeling very well. The weather was still damp, almost rainy, but he would not hear of remaining in the house until it was time to start for Magadino, as Luisa wished him to do. He knew, for he had inquired of the proprietor, that the gardens could be visited after nine o'clock, so at ten he drank his milk and then started out to visit them with Luisa. When they pa.s.sed S. Vittore he wished to go in and see the paintings. Ma.s.s was being sung, and at that moment the officiating priest turned towards them and said _Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus_. Uncle Piero crossed himself devoutly, and lingered to hear the last gospel. He did not attempt to examine the paintings, for there was little light in the church, but said with his accustomed cheerfulness: "Now that I have received that blessing I feel quite happy!"

It was not possible to hurry in his company. He stopped at every step, examining everything that seemed artistic, everything that was in a position to be examined. He studied the front of the church, the triple stairway of the landing-stage of Villa Borromeo, all three sides of the courtyard, and the great palm in the centre, which he was much scandalised to learn Luisa had not even noticed when she had pa.s.sed it the night before with Franco. When the custodian ushered them into the palace, it took the uncle at least ten minutes to climb and admire the great stairway. As they reached the top a ray of sun glinted forth, and the custodian proposed that they should take advantage of this and visit the gardens. He turned to the left and led the visitors through a suite of empty rooms to the iron gate, where he rang the bell. A gardener appeared, a civil lad, to whom Uncle Piero took a great fancy, for he explained everything willingly, and the uncle's questions were not few.

The camphor-tree near the entrance cost him five minutes. Luisa was distressed, for she feared the uncle would tire himself too much, and she herself was weary of looking at so many trees, of hearing so many names, both Latin and Italian, and of having to watch the uncle, while her thoughts called for silence and solitude. The gardener proposed going up to the Castello di Nettuno. Uncle Piero would have liked to inspect more closely the unicorn of the Borromei, which stood rampant up there, but there were many stairs to climb, the air was heavy, and he hesitated. Luisa took advantage of that moment of hesitation to ask the gardener where she might find a seat. "Just below here," said he. "On the left, where the _Strobus_ are." Uncle Piero finally consented to go down and visit the clump of _Strobus_.

He was tired, but he continued to look at everything, to ask questions about everything. As they walked towards the _Strobus_ they heard in the distance, over towards Isola Madre, the rolling of the drums of the National Guard of Pallanza, which was drilling on the sh.o.r.e. "Now it is all play," said the young man. "Not exactly play, but.... Next month we shall go to work in earnest. We have a lesson to give to a huge beast.

There it is, over there, the monster!" The monster was the Austrian war steamer _Radetzky_, called by the inhabitants of the Piedmontese sh.o.r.e, _el Radescn_. "The ship is just entering the bay of Laveno," said the young fellow, "coming from Luino. Come this way if you wish to see her plainly."

Uncle Piero knew his eyes were not strong enough to see the steamer, so he sat down on the first bench he found under the _Strobus_, which stood just in front of a group of bamboos, and was flanked by two groups of large azaleas. Behind the bamboos, between the great twisted trunks of the _Strobus_, he could see the mirror of white water trembling as far as the black line of the hills of Ispra. The sky, dark towards the north, was clear in that quarter. Luisa and the gardener went to the gate which bears the coat of arms, and which faces the green Isola Madre, Pallanza, and the upper lake. Luisa looked out over the immense expanse of leaden water, crowned by misty giants from the Sa.s.so di Ferro group above Laveno to the mountains of Maccagno, and to the distant snows of the Splugen. The smoke of the _Radetzky_ was more plainly visible than its body, and the drums of Pallanza were still rolling.

Uncle Piero called the gardener and Luisa went to lean against the parapet beside the gate, and near the yew-tree that rises from the terrace below. The tree shut out the view on the east. She was glad to be alone at last, to rest her eyes and her thoughts on the grey of the great mountains and of the great waters. Presently the gardener came back to point out to her the yellow acacias and the white heather that were blossoming on the lower terrace. "The _bruyeres blanches_ bring luck," said he. Seeing that Luisa was lost in thought, and did not heed him, he started towards the hot-house containing the begonias. "An old _Strobus_," said he, speaking in a loud voice that the visitors might hear him, but without looking around, "An old _Strobus_ that has been struck by lightning. If you wish to visit the private gardens----"

Luisa turned from the parapet and went to fetch the uncle, and give him her arm if necessary. The gardener, who was waiting at the entrance of the little grove of laurels, saw her start towards the old gentleman, who was still sitting on the bench, saw her quicken her pace and then rush to his side with a cry.

Like the innocent and aged tree Uncle Piero also had been struck down.

His body was resting against the back of the bench, his head had fallen forward, and his chin touched his breast. His eyes were open, fixed and expressionless. It had indeed been a farewell spectacle his beloved Valsolda had offered him the day before. Uncle Piero, the dear, venerable, old man, wise, upright, and fatherly, the benefactor of his own people, Uncle Piero was gone, gone forever. He had come to enlist, but G.o.d had called him to a higher service; the bugle had sounded, and he had answered the call. The drums of Pallanza still rolled, rolled for the end of the old world, and rolled for the advent of the new. In Luisa's womb there lay a vital germ which was preparing to fight the battles of a new era, preparing to taste other joys, other griefs than those which the man of the old world was leaving thus peacefully, blessed unconsciously, at the last moment, by that strange priest of Isola Bella, who had, perhaps, never uttered the holy words to one more worthy.