Part 20 (1/2)

Celio bridled with increased importance. ”Prince Borghese's specimens of antique sculpture are in the palazzo where, if the Signor will announce himself, he will doubtless be accorded the privilege of seeing them. This palazzita is the private boudoir of the Princess.”

”So much the better,” the other laughed. ”But when she commanded that statue she doubtless contemplated the possibility of its being admired by other eyes than her own. No insult is intended, my young popinjay. It is all in the family. Restrain your indignation and inform the Princess that the King of Naples is waiting here in obedience to her appointment.”

The secretary was not pleased with this message, and he liked still less the manner in which it was received, for the Princess hurried to meet her brother-in-law and allowed him to salute her gallantly upon both cheeks, and to address her as ”Paulette.”

Celio, excused from attendance, had no opportunity, though he stood sentinel in the loggia, to overhear their conversation. Finally the Princess summoned him. ”Order my carriage,” she commanded, ”and the caleche, and ask the attendance of my first lady-in-waiting. Tell Maurice to arrange a lunch-hamper quickly. His Majesty insists he must set out this afternoon for Naples. We will accompany him as far as Mondragone and picnic there.”

So they dashed away on the road to Frascati, the Princess lolling alone in her open carriage, for Murat had declined the seat beside her, though he kept his horse recklessly near her wheels, Celio following with the maid of honour and the lunch basket in the caleche, and one of Murat's orderlies (the other had been dispatched to order his suite to meet him at Mondragone) bringing up the rear.

At the wildest and steepest part of the road the party halted, and the Princess alighting announced her intention of taking a short cut across the hills while the carriages followed the more circuitous driveway.

Murat threw his reins to his orderly, and Celio, true to his self-const.i.tuted duties as dragon, left the maid of honour dozing in the caleche and followed his mistress. She had brought a tall staff, knotted with a tri-colour ribbon, which she used as an alpenstock, springing lightly over the steep boulders, while the athletic Murat kept pace with the easy swinging stride of a mountaineer. Suddenly Celio saw him catch the Princess by the arm and both stood as though instantaneously frozen.

Then, as the secretary came panting up, Murat handed the Princess to him, and taking a few steps forward and apparently addressing the landscape, for Celio saw no one said in a voice of calm but inflexible authority: ”Lay down your gun, and come from behind that rock.”

To Celio's astonishment a villainous appearing brigand advanced and knelt at Murat's feet.

”Why did you not shoot me when I was at the lower turn of the road, my friend?” Murat demanded; ”you had the better opportunity then, for I had not discovered you, and I was for several minutes within your range.”

”True, your Majesty,” replied the bandit, ”but I said to myself, 'that is too magnificent a figure of a man to kill, even though he is a king.'”

Murat laughed. ”I will return the compliment,” he said, writing rapidly on a card. ”You have too much discrimination and obey orders too well to be a brigand. I wonder now if you have heard of a secret organisation called the Carbonari? I thought so” (replying by an almost imperceptible gesture to a signal made by the bandit); ”you see you have made a mistake, for I also am a member of the order. All in time, my good fellow, and you shall use your rifle against the Austrians. Take this to the recruiting office of the Neapolitan army at Castel di Rocca. Never fear, it is no trap. This young man will read it for you.” And the secretary read: ”Give this brave fellow a place in the Corps of Calabrian Sharpshooters, and a.s.sure Captain Castiglione that he can be relied upon for expert guerilla service. Giacomo Re.”

The man went away trembling with emotion but Murat called to him: ”Come back, you have forgotten your gun,” and stood carelessly regarding the view with his back turned while the would-be a.s.sa.s.sin regained possession of his weapon.

The Princess clapped her hands. ”I understand now,” she said, ”why you bore a charmed life when you came das.h.i.+ng out of the smoke of the battle-field, sweeping within a few feet of the muzzles of the enemy's guns. It needed not the command of the Czar that you were not to be fired upon,--the gunners could no more have done so than this poor outlaw. I comprehend also how you have managed to augment the roll of your army, which on your accession included but fifty thousand names, to its present list of seventy-five thousand, and at the same time have so marvellously reduced the number of brigands in your kingdom.”

”Partly in this way,” he acknowledged, lightly, ”but the Austrian officers would be surprised to know how many of my best disciplined soldiers have had the advantage of their drilling.”

”Deserters?” the Princess asked.

”And whole companies in Northern Italy waiting for the first symptoms of a war with Italy to desert en ma.s.se.”

When the party reached Mondragone the custodian, surprised at their coming (for the villa had been long unoccupied), unbarred the shutters and let the light into the dusty salons.

”It is roomy enough for a barracks,” Murat remarked as he wandered through suite after suite of the great tenantless rooms.

”I forbid you so to use it,” the Princess jested, ”though you may occupy Mondragone yourself when you lay siege to Rome.”

”It would not be a bad headquarters,” he said as they came out upon the terrace. ”Imagine a semaph.o.r.e in the place of those monstrous and absurd columns--what are they, by the way? One could waft signals from Rome to Calabria and from the Adriatic to the Tirrenian.”

That was an exaggeration, of course, but Mondragone would have been a good station in such a signal service.

”Those absurd columns,” the Princess replied, ”might themselves serve as semaph.o.r.es. They are chimneys, colossal enough to serve a foundry, though they do duty to simple kitchens, those which prepared the excellent dinners with which Pope Paul V. entertained his guests. When the smoke rises from that one I can see the cloudy column from my windows at Rome.”

”And I could see it far on the road from Naples,” he mused, and then the two wandered away from their watching dragon and leaning on the bal.u.s.trade with their faces toward the magnificent view earnestly discussed projects which had nothing to do with that unrivalled panorama.

Celio was in torment. What was Murat saying in that low, guarded voice, while his hand clenched and crushed the roses that swarmed over the bal.u.s.trade and scattered their petals to the wind? Why did the Princess's colour come and go as she listened, her cheek much too near his pa.s.sionate lips?

Since there was no way of overhearing this equivocal conversation, it must at all hazards be interrupted, and Celio prematurely announced the _al fresco_ supper. Here, while he fluttered behind them in a pretence of service, he heard both too much for his peace of mind and too little for his complete enlightenment.

At first the talk was of family matters, chiefly of Napoleon at Elba, with whom Pauline begged her brother-in-law to be reconciled, for this was in the summer of 1814, when Murat, foreseeing that Napoleon's star had set, had signed a treaty with the allies.