Part 38 (1/2)
The last words had been uttered with almost convulsed agitation, and Balda.s.sarre paused, trembling. All glances were turned on t.i.to, who was now looking straight at Balda.s.sarre. It was a moment of desperation that annihilated all feeling in him, except the determination to risk anything for the chance of escape. And he gathered confidence from the agitation by which Balda.s.sarre was evidently shaken. He had ceased to pinch the neck of the lute, and had thrust his thumbs into his belt, while his lips had begun to a.s.sume a slight curl. He had never yet done an act of murderous cruelty even to the smallest animal that could utter a cry, but at that moment he would have been capable of treading the breath from a smiling child for the sake of his own safety.
”What does this mean, Melema?” said Bernardo Rucellai, in a tone of cautious surprise. He, as well as the rest of the company, felt relieved that the tenor of the accusation was not political.
”Messer Bernardo,” said t.i.to, ”I believe this man is mad. I did not recognise him the first time he encountered me in Florence, but I know now that he is the servant who years ago accompanied me and my adoptive father to Greece, and was dismissed on account of misdemeanours. His name is Jacopo di Nola. Even at that time I believe his mind was unhinged, for, without any reason, he had conceived a strange hatred towards me; and now I am convinced that he is labouring under a mania which causes him to mistake his ident.i.ty. He has already attempted my life since he has been in Florence; and I am in constant danger from him. But he is an object of pity rather than of indignation. It is too certain that my father is dead. You have only my word for it; but I must leave it to your judgment how far it is probable that a man of intellect and learning would have been lurking about in dark corners for the last month with the purpose of a.s.sa.s.sinating me; or how far it is probable that, if this man were my second father, I could have any motive for denying him. That story about my being rescued from beggary is the vision of a diseased brain. But it will be a satisfaction to me at least if you will demand from him proofs of his ident.i.ty, lest any malignant person should choose to make this mad impeachment a reproach to me.”
t.i.to had felt more and more confidence as he went on; the lie was not so difficult when it was once begun; and as the words fell easily from his lips, they gave him a sense of power such as men feel when they have begun a muscular feat successfully. In this way he acquired boldness enough to end with a challenge for proofs.
Balda.s.sarre, while he had been walking in the gardens and afterwards waiting in an outer room of the pavilion with the servants, had been making anew the digest of the evidence he would bring to prove his ident.i.ty and t.i.to's baseness, recalling the description and history of his gems, and a.s.suring himself by rapid mental glances that he could attest his learning and his travels. It might be partly owing to this nervous strain that the new shock of rage he felt as t.i.to's lie fell on his ears brought a strange bodily effect with it: a cold stream seemed to rush over him, and the last words of the speech seemed to be drowned by ringing chimes. Thought gave way to a dizzy horror, as if the earth were slipping away from under him. Every one in the room was looking at him as t.i.to ended, and saw that the eyes which had had such fierce intensity only a few minutes before had now a vague fear in them. He clutched the back of a seat, and was silent.
Hardly any evidence could have been more in favour of t.i.to's a.s.sertion.
”Surely I have seen this man before, somewhere,” said Tornabuoni.
”Certainly you have,” said t.i.to, readily, in a low tone. ”He is the escaped prisoner who clutched me on the steps of the Duomo. I did not recognise him then; he looks now more as he used to do, except that he has a more unmistakable air of mad imbecility.”
”I cast no doubt on your word, Melema,” said Bernardo Rucellai, with cautious gravity, ”but you are right to desire some positive test of the fact.” Then turning to Balda.s.sarre, he said, ”If you are the person you claim to be, you can doubtless give some description of the gems which were your property. I myself was the purchaser of more than one gem from Messer t.i.to--the chief rings, I believe, in his collection. One of them is a fine sard, engraved with a subject from Homer. If, as you allege, you are a scholar, and the rightful owner of that ring, you can doubtless turn to the noted pa.s.sage in Homer from which that subject is taken. Do you accept this test, Melema? or have you anything to allege against its validity? The Jacopo you speak of, was he a scholar?”
It was a fearful crisis for t.i.to. If he said ”Yes,” his quick mind told him that he would shake the credibility of his story: if he said ”No,”
he risked everything on the uncertain extent of Balda.s.sarre's imbecility. But there was no noticeable pause before he said, ”No. I accept the test.”
There was a dead silence while Rucellai moved towards the recess where the books were, and came back with the fine Florentine Homer in his hand. Balda.s.sarre, when he was addressed, had turned his head towards the speaker, and Rucellai believed that he had understood him. But he chose to repeat what he had said, that there might be no mistake as to the test.
”The ring I possess,” he said, ”is a fine sard, engraved with a subject from Homer. There was no other at all resembling it in Messer t.i.to's collection. Will you turn to the pa.s.sage in Homer from which that subject is taken? Seat yourself here,” he added, laying the book on the table, and pointing to his own seat while he stood beside it.
Balda.s.sarre had so far recovered from the first confused horror produced by the sensation of rus.h.i.+ng coldness and chiming din in the ears as to be partly aware of what was said to him: he was aware that something was being demanded from him to prove his ident.i.ty, but he formed no distinct idea of the details. The sight of the book recalled the habitual longing and faint hope that he could read and understand, and he moved towards the chair immediately.
The book was open before him, and he bent his head a little towards it, while everybody watched him eagerly. He turned no leaf. His eyes wandered over the pages that lay before him, and then fixed on them a straining gaze. This lasted for two or three minutes in dead silence.
Then he lifted his hands to each side of his head, and said, in a low tone of despair, ”Lost, lost!”
There was something so piteous in the wandering look and the low cry, that while they confirmed the belief in his madness they raised compa.s.sion. Nay, so distinct sometimes is the working of a double consciousness within us, that t.i.to himself, while he triumphed in the apparent verification of his lie, wished that he had never made the lie necessary to himself--wished he had recognised his father on the steps-- wished he had gone to seek him--wished everything had been different.
But he had borrowed from the terrible usurer Falsehood, and the loan had mounted and mounted with the years, till he belonged to the usurer, body and soul.
The compa.s.sion excited in all the witnesses was not without its danger to t.i.to; for conjecture is constantly guided by feeling, and more than one person suddenly conceived that this man might have been a scholar and have lost his faculties. On the other hand, they had not present to their minds the motives which could have led t.i.to to the denial of his benefactor, and having no ill-will towards him, it would have been difficult to them to believe that he had been uttering the basest of lies. And the originally common type of Balda.s.sarre's person, coa.r.s.ened by years of hards.h.i.+p, told as a confirmation of t.i.to's lie. If Balda.s.sarre, to begin with, could have uttered precisely the words he had premeditated, there might have been something in the form of his accusation which would have given it the stamp not only of true experience but of mental refinement. But there had been no such testimony in his impulsive agitated words: and there seemed the very opposite testimony in the rugged face and the coa.r.s.e hands that trembled beside it, standing out in strong contrast in the midst of that velvet-clad, fair-handed company.
His next movement, while he was being watched in silence, told against him too. He took his hands from his head, and felt for something under his tunic. Every one guessed what that movement meant--guessed that there was a weapon at his side. Glances were interchanged; and Bernardo Rucellai said, in a quiet tone, touching Balda.s.sarre's shoulder--
”My friend, this is an important business of yours. You shall have all justice. Follow me into a private room.”
Balda.s.sarre was still in that half-stunned state in which he was susceptible to any prompting, in the same way as an insect that forms no conception of what the prompting leads to. He rose from his seat, and followed Rucellai out of the room.
In two or three minutes Rucellai came back again, and said--
”He is safe under lock and key. Piero Pitti, you are one of the Magnificent Eight, what do you think of our sending Matteo to the palace for a couple of sbirri, who may escort him to the Stinche? [The largest prison in Florence.] If there is any danger in him, as I think there is, he will be safe there; and we can inquire about him to-morrow.”
Pitti a.s.sented, and the order was given.
”He is certainly an ill-looking fellow,” said Tornabuoni. ”And you say he has attempted your life already, Melema?”
And the talk turned on the various forms of madness, and the fierceness of the southern blood. If the seeds of conjecture unfavourable to t.i.to had been planted in the mind of any one present, they were hardly strong enough to grow without the aid of much daylight and ill-will. The common-looking, wild-eyed old man, clad in serge, might have won belief without very strong evidence, if he had accused a man who was envied and disliked. As it was, the only congruous and probable view of the case seemed to be the one that sent the unpleasant accuser safely out of sight, and left the pleasant serviceable t.i.to just where he was before.