Part 27 (1/2)

Gilardoni, quivering with excitement, hearing the approaching steps of a servant, and seeing her about to open the door, threw his doc.u.ments upon one of the armchairs, saying hastily, in an undertone: ”I will leave them here. Let no one see them. I am staying at the Sole, and will return to-morrow. Examine the papers, and think over them carefully!”

And before the servant arrived he had rushed out at the same door by which he had entered, had seized his heavy cape, and fled downstairs.

The Marchesa dismissed the footman, and stood listening for a few moments. Then she retraced her steps, took up the papers, and went to her room, locking her door behind her. Having put on her spectacles she took her stand near the window, and began to read. Her brow was clouded and her hands trembled.

The Professor was preparing to go to bed in his icy room at the Sole when two police-agents came with a summons for him to appear at once at the police-station.

He felt some secret misgivings, but did not lose his head, and went quietly away with the two men. At the station a little impudent Commissary asked him why he had come to Lodi, and upon being informed that he had come on private business shrugged his shoulders in contemptuous incredulity. What private business did Signor Gilardoni pretend to have in Lodi? With whom? The Professor mentioned the Marchesa. ”There are no Maironis at Lodi,” the Commissary exclaimed, and when his victim protested he speedily interrupted him. ”_Basta!_ That will do! That will do!” The police knew for a certainty that Professor Gilardoni, although he was an Imperial and Royal pensioner, was not a loyal Austrian; that he had friends at Lugano, and that he had come to Lodi for political ends.

”You are better informed than I am,” Gilardoni exclaimed, restraining his wrath with difficulty.

”Silence!” the Commissary commanded. ”You must not think the Imperial and Royal government is afraid of you. You are free to go, but you must leave Lodi within two hours.”

At this point Franco would have immediately perceived from whence the blow came, but the philosopher did not understand.

”I came to Lodi on most urgent business, which is not yet finished,”

said he. ”On most important, private business. How can I leave in two hours?”

”By carriage. If you are still in Lodi at the end of two hours I shall have you arrested.”

”My health does not permit me to travel at night in December,” the victim urged.

”Very well, then I will have you arrested at once!”

The poor philosopher took up his hat in silence, and went out.

An hour later he started for Milan in a closed calash, his feet embedded in straw, a rug over his legs, a great m.u.f.fler round his neck, reflecting that this had been a most successful expedition, and swallowing momently to see if his throat were sore. He pa.s.sed a horrible night, indeed, but the Marchesa herself did not rest on a bed of roses.

FOOTNOTE:

[M] _Mascherponi_: A sort of common cheese made in Lodi. [_Translator's note._]

CHAPTER VIII

HOURS OF BITTERNESS

On the last day of the year, while Franco was writing out the very minute directions concerning the care of the flowers and the kitchen-garden, which he intended to leave for his wife's guidance, and the uncle sat reading for the tenth time his favourite book, the _History of the Diocese of Como_, Luisa went out for a walk with Maria.

The sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly. There was no snow save on Bisgnago and Galbiga. Maria found a violet near the cemetery, and another down in the Calcinera. There it was really warm, and the air was pleasantly scented with laurel. Luisa sat down to think, with her back to the hill, and allowed Maria to amuse herself by climbing up the bank behind her, and sliding down again on the dry gra.s.s.

She had not seen the Professor since Christmas Eve, and she longed to speak with him; not to hear the story of the Maironi will over again, but to get him to tell her about his interview with Franco, when he had shown it to him: to ascertain what Franco's first impression had been and what the Professor's opinion was. As the will had been destroyed, all this could only be of psychological importance, but Luisa's curiosity was not the curiosity of the idle observer. Her husband's conduct had deeply wounded her. Thinking of it over and over again, as she had done ever since Christmas Eve, she had arrived at the conclusion that his silence towards her had been an outrage against justice and affection. It was a bitter sorrow to her to feel her esteem for him diminis.h.i.+ng, especially bitter now, on the eve of his departure, and at a time when he really deserved praise. She would have liked, at least, to know that when Gilardoni had shown him the doc.u.ments there had been some inward struggle, that a more just sentiment had been aroused in his soul, if only for a moment. She rose, took Maria by the hand, and started towards Casarico.

She found the Professor in the garden with Pinella, and told Maria to run and play with the boy, but Maria, always eager to listen to the conversation of her elders, would not hear of going. Then Luisa broached the subject without mentioning any names. She wished to speak to the Professor about certain papers, about those old letters. The Professor, who was crimson, protested that he did not understand. Fortunately, Pinella called Maria, enticing her with a picture-book, and she ran to him, conquered by her curiosity concerning the book. Then Luisa relieved the Professor of his scruples, by informing him that Franco himself had told her everything, and she confessed to him that she had disapproved of her husband's conduct, that it had been, and still was a source of great sorrow to her----

”Why, why, why?” said the worthy Professor, interrupting her. Because Franco had not been willing to do anything. ”I have done something! I have done something!” Gilardoni exclaimed, anxiously and excitedly. ”But for the love of Heaven, don't tell your husband!” Luisa was amazed. What had the Professor done? And when, and how? And was not the will already destroyed?

Then Gilardoni, as red as a glowing coal, his eyes full of anxiety, his recital often interrupted by such exclamations as, ”For mercy's sake, don't tell!--You will be silent, eh?” revealed all his secrets to her, from the preserving of the will to his journey to Lodi. Luisa listened to the very end, and then, clasping her face tightly between her hands, uttered a horrified ”Ah!”

”Did I do wrong?” said the poor Professor, much alarmed. ”Did I do wrong, Signora Luisina?”