Part 38 (1/2)
Meanwhile the days slipped on and brought me no nearer to the fulfilment of my purpose. The time had come, moreover, when I must set off into Italy if I was to meet Larke at Venice as I had most faithfully promised. I resolved, then, to put an end to a visit which I saw brought no happiness to my mistress, and wasted me with impatience and despondency. I was minded to go down into Italy, and taking Jack with me to set sail for the Indies, and ease my heart, if so I might, with viewing of the many wonders of those parts. So choosing an occasion when we were all dining together in the great parlour on the first floor of the Castle, I thanked the Countess for the hospitality which she had shown me, and fixed my departure for the next day. For awhile there was silence, Ilga rising suddenly from the table and walking over to the wide-open windows, where she stood with her back turned, and looked out across the waving valley of the Adige.
”It seems that we have been guilty of some discourtesy, Mr. Buckler, since you leave us so abruptly,” said Father Spaur with a great perturbation.
Upon that point I hastened to set him right; for indeed I had been so hedged in by attention and ceremony that I should have been well content with a little neglect.
”Then,” he continued with an easy laugh, ”we shall make bold to keep you. If we bring guests so far to visit us, we cannot speed them away so soon. Doubtless the Castle is dull to you who come fresh from London and Paris----”
”Nay,” said I with some impatience, for I thought it unfair that he should attribute such motives to me. ”Madame will bear me out that I have little liking for town pleasures.” I turned towards her, but she made no sign or movement, and appeared not to have heard me. ”I am pledged to meet a friend at Venice, and, as it is, I have overstayed my time.”
”Oh! you have a friend awaiting you,” said the priest slowly. ”You are very prudent, Mr. Buckler.”
The Countess turned swiftly about, her eyes wide open and staring like one dismayed.
”Prudent?” I exclaimed in perplexity.
”I mean,” said the priest, flus.h.i.+ng a dark red and dropping his voice, ”I mean that if one fixes so precise a limit to one's visit, one guards against any inclination to prolong it.” He spoke with a meaning glance in the direction of the Countess, who had turned away again.
”The heart says 'stay,' prudence 'go.' Is it not the case?” he whispered, and he smiled with an awkward effort at archness, which, upon his heavy face, was little short of grotesque.
Now his words and manner perplexed me greatly, for at the moment of my coming to Lukstein, he had seemed most plainly to warn me against encouraging any pa.s.sion for Ilga, and his conduct since in disparting us had a.s.sured me that I had rightly guessed his intention. Yet here was he urging me to extend my stay, and sneering at my prudence for not giving free play to that pa.s.sion.
”Besides,” he continued, raising his voice again, ”if you go to-morrow you will miss the best entertainment that our poor domain provides. We are to have a great hunt, wherein some of our neighbours will join us, and Otto informs us that you have great partiality for the sport, and extraordinary skill and nimbleness upon mountains. In a week, moreover, the headsman of our village is to marry. 'Tis a great event in Lukstein, and, indeed, to a stranger well worth witnessing, for there are many quaint and curious customs to be observed which are not met with elsewhere.”
He added many other inducements, so that at last I felt some shame at persisting in my refusal. But, after all, the Countess was my hostess, and she had said never a word, but had turned back again to the window as though she would not meddle in the matter. At last, however, she broke in upon the priest, keeping, however, her face still set towards the landscape.
”Could you not send forward your servant, Mr. Buckler, to meet your friend, and remain with us this week? As Father Spaur says, the marriage will be well worth seeing, and since you are so pressed, you may leave here that very night.”
There was, however, no heartiness in her invitation; the words dropped reluctantly from her lips, as if compelled by mere politeness towards her guest.
”The most suitable plan!” cried the priest, starting up. ”Send your man to Venice, and yourself follow afterwards.”
I explained that Udal was little accustomed to travelling in strange countries, and had no knowledge of either the German or Italian tongues; and to put a close to the discussion, I rose from my seat and walked away to the end of the apartment, where I busied myself over some weapons that hung upon the wall. In a minute or so I heard the door close softly, and facing about, I saw that the priest and Mdlle.
Durette, who had taken no part in any of this talk, had departed out of the room. The Countess came towards me.
”I sent them away,” she said, with a wan smile, and a voice subdued to great gentleness. ”I have no thought to--to part with you so soon.
Stay out this week. You--you told me that you had something which you wished to say.”
”Madame,” said I, s.n.a.t.c.hing eagerly at her hand, ”you also told me that you had guessed it.”
”Not now; not now.” She slipped her hand from my grasp with an imploring cry, and held it outspread close before my face to check my words. ”Not now. I could not bear it. Oh, I would that I had more strength to resist, or more weakness to succ.u.mb.”
Never have I heard such pain in a human voice: never have I seen features so wrung with suffering. The sight of her cut me to the heart.
”Listen,” she went on, controlling herself after a moment, though her voice still trembled with agitation, and now and again ran upwards into an odd laugh, the like of which I have never hearkened to before or since. 'Twas the most pitiful sound that ever jarred on a man's ears. ”On the night of the marriage the villagers will come to the Castle to dance in the Great Hall. That night you shall speak to me, and a carriage shall be ready to take you away afterwards, if you will. Until that night be 'prudent.'”
She gave me no time to answer her, but ran to the door, and so out of the room. I could hear her footsteps falling uncertainly along the gallery, as though she stumbled while she ran, and a great anger against the priest flamed up in my breast. ”Strength to resist, or weakness to succ.u.mb.” Doubtless the words would have bewildered me, like the oracles of old Greece, but for what I suspicioned in the priest Now, however, in the blindness of my thoughts, I construed them as the confirmation of my belief that he was practising all his arts upon Ilga to secure Lukstein for the Church. 'Twas Father Spaur, I imagined, whom she had neither the strength to resist nor the weakness to yield to, and I fancied that I was set upon a second contest for the winning of her, though this time with a more subtle and noteworthy antagonist.