The Patriot Part 7

"Luisa!" said she, glancing meaningly at her daughter.

"Yes, Mamma," the girl replied, and turning to her lover, said in a low tone: "Franco, Mamma wishes to speak with you."

Signor Giacomo understood, and went out to the terrace. The engineer did not understand at all, and his niece had to explain to him that her mother was to be left alone with Franco. The simple-minded man could see no reason for this, but she took his arm and, smiling, led him away to the terrace.

Signora Teresa silently held out her beautiful hand, which was still youthful in its curves, and Franco, kneeling, kissed it.

"Poor Franco," said she gently.

Then she made him rise from his knees and sit close to her. She must speak to him, she said, and her breath was so short. But he would understand much from a few words, would he not?

In speaking these words her voice was infinitely sweet.

"You must know," she began, "that I had not intended to say this to you, but I thought of it when you spoke about breaking the plate at the dinner-table. I beg you to be careful on account of Uncle Piero's position. In his heart he feels as you do. If you only could have seen the letters he wrote me in 1848! But he is a servant of the Government.

It is true his conscience is perfectly easy, for he knows that by engineering roads and water-works he is serving his country and not the Germans. But he must and will take certain precautions, and you--for love of him--must be cautious also."

"The Germans will soon be gone, Mamma!" Franco replied. "But do not worry; you shall see how prudent I will be."

"Oh, my dear! I have little more to see, I have only to see you two united and blessed by the Lord. When the Germans go, you will come to Looch to tell me of it."

Those small fields where the little cemetery of Castello is situated go by the name of Looch.

"But I had intended to speak to you of another matter," Signora Teresa went on, without giving Franco time to protest. He took her hands and pressed them, with difficulty restraining his tears.

"I must speak to you of Luisa," she said. "You must know your wife well."

"I do know her, Mamma! I know her as well as you do, and perhaps even better."

As he p.r.o.nounced these words his whole being glowed and quivered in his pa.s.sionate love for her who was the life of his life, the soul of his soul.

"Poor Franco!" said Signora Teresa, smiling tenderly. "No, listen to me, for there is something you do not know, of which you should be informed.

Wait a moment."

She needed to rest. Her emotion made her breathing more laboured, and she spoke with greater difficulty than usual. She motioned to Franco not to move, for she saw he was about to rise, that he might do something to relieve her. Only a little repose was necessary, and she took it, resting her head against the chair-back.

Presently she roused herself. "You have probably heard many evil accounts of my poor husband, at your own home. You will have heard that he was an unprincipled man, and that I did very wrong to marry him. It is true he was not religious, and for that reason I hesitated some time before deciding to accept him. I was advised to do so because it was thought I might have a good influence over this man, who had a most n.o.ble soul. He died a Christian, and I have every hope of meeting him in Heaven, if the Lord, in His mercy, shall see fit to receive me there.

But up to the very last hour it seemed as if I were not to accomplish anything. Now, I fear my Luisa has her father's tendencies in her heart.

She hides them from me, but I feel they are there. I commend her to you; study her, advise her; she is gifted and has a great heart, and if I have not known how to do well by her, you must do better. You are a good Christian: see that, with all her heart, she also becomes one. Promise me this, Franco."

He promised, smiling, as if he considered her fears groundless, and were making this superfluous promise simply to satisfy her.

The invalid gazed sadly at him. "Believe me," she added, "these are not fancies. I cannot die in peace if you do not take this matter seriously." And when the young man had repeated his promise, this time without smiling, she said--

"One word more. When you leave here you will go to Professor Gilardoni's, will you not?"

"That was my first plan. I was to have told my grandmother that I was going to sleep at Gilardoni's house, as we were to start on an excursion together in the morning. But now, you know how I left home."

"Still you had better go there. I had rather you went there, and besides, he expects you, does he not? So you must go. Poor Gilardoni! He has never been here since his fit of madness, two years ago. You know about that, do you not? Luisa has told you?"

"Yes, Mamma."

This Professor Gilardoni, who lived like a hermit at Casarico, had fallen most romantically in love with Signora Teresa some years before, and had timidly presented himself to her as a suitor. She had received his proposal with such utter amazement that he had lacked courage to appear before her again.

"Poor man!" Signora Rigey continued, "that was a most stupid action, but he has a heart of gold, and is a true friend. I wish you to cherish him.

The day before he had that mad fit, he confided a secret to me. I may not repeat to you what he said, and moreover, I beg you not to mention the subject to him unless he speaks to you about it; but it is, in fact, something which, under certain circ.u.mstances, might be of great importance to you two, especially if you have children. If Gilardoni should confide in you, reflect seriously before telling Luisa. She might look at the matter in a wrong light. Consider the question carefully, consult Uncle Piero, and then speak or remain silent according to the line of action you may have determined to adopt."

"Yes, Mamma."

There was a gentle tap at the door, and Luisa's voice said: "Have you finished?"

Franco looked at the invalid. "Come in," said she. "Is it time to go?"

Luisa did not answer, but threw one arm around Franco's neck, and together they knelt before the mother, their heads buried in her lap.

Luisa tried her best to restrain her tears, knowing well that her mother should be spared all violent emotion, but her heaving shoulders betrayed her.

"No, Luisa, no, dear, no!" said her mother, caressing her bowed head. "I am grateful to you, for you have always been a good daughter dear; such a good daughter! Calm yourself; I am so happy! You will see, I shall get better. Now go. Kiss me, both of you, and then go. You must not keep the curate waiting. May G.o.d bless you, Luisa, and you also, Franco!"

She asked for her prayer-book, drew the lamp towards her, had the windows and the door leading to the terrace thrown open that she might breathe more easily, and then dismissed the maid, who was prepared to keep her company. When the young couple had left the room, the engineer came in to greet his sister before going to church.

"Good-by, Teresa."

"Good-by, Piero. Another load is laid on your shoulders, my poor Piero."

"Amen!" the engineer answered, calmly.

When she was alone Signora Rigey sat listening to the receding footsteps. The heavy steps of her brother and Signor Giacomo bringing up the rear, prevented her hearing those others, which she strained her ear to follow as far as possible.

Another moment and the sounds ceased. She realised that Luisa and Franco were going away together into the future, whither she might follow them only for a few months, perhaps only for a few days; that she could neither divine nor foresee what their fate would be. "Poor children!"

she thought. "Who knows what they may have pa.s.sed through in five years, in ten years." She listened again, but the silence was profound; the open window admitted only the far-away thundering of the cascades of Rescia, over across the lake. Then, thinking that they must already have entered the church, she took her prayer-book, and read attentively.

But she soon grew weary; her brain was confused, and the words of the book blurred before her eyes.

Her mind was becoming drowsy, her will-power was lost. She foresaw the approach of a vision of unreal things, but she knew she was not asleep, she understood that this was not a dream, but a condition produced by her malady. She saw the door leading to the kitchen open, and there entered old Gilardoni from Dasio, called "el Carlin de Das," father of the Professor and agent of the Maironi family, for the estates in Valsolda--he had been dead five-and-twenty years. The figure came forward, and said, in a natural voice: "Oh, Signora Teresa! Are you quite well?" She thought she answered--"Oh, Carlin! I am quite well; and how are you?" But in reality she did not speak.

"I've got the letter here," the figure continued, waving a letter triumphantly. "I've brought it here for you!" And he placed the letter on the table.

Signora Teresa saw it quite plainly. A letter, soiled and yellowed by time, without an envelope, and still bearing traces of a little red wafer, lay before her and she experienced a sense of lively satisfaction. She thought she said: "Thank you, Carlin. Are you going to Dasio, now?"

"No, Signora," Carlin replied. "I am going to Casarico to see my son."

The invalid could no longer distinguish Carlin, but she saw the letter on the table, saw it distinctly. Still she was not sure it was there; in her sluggish brain the vague memory of other past hallucinations still endured, the memory of the disease, which was her enemy, her cruel master. Her eyes were gla.s.sy, her breathing laboured and rapid.

The sound of hastening footsteps roused her, and recalled her almost completely to herself. When Luisa and Franco came swiftly into the room from the terrace they did not notice that their mother's face was distorted, for the lamp was heavily shaded. Kneeling before her they covered her with kisses, attributing that laboured breathing to emotion.

Suddenly the invalid raised her head from the chair-back and stretched out her hands, pointing to something at which she was looking fixedly.

"The letter!" she said.

The young people turned, but saw nothing.