Part 34 (1/2)

”Will you take offence at this outpouring of mine? Remember that you must have found a letter from me in your handbag, eight months ago, and that I have waited eight months for an answer!

”The Professor and Ester now meet at our house as fiances.

They, at least, are happy. She goes to church and he does not, and neither of them thinks any more about it than they do about the difference in the colour of their hair. And I believe nine hundred and ninety-nine couples in a thousand do the same.”

”I embrace you. Write me a long, long letter.

”LUISA.”

This letter did not leave Lugano until September 26th, and Franco received it on the 27th. On the 29th, at eight o'clock in the morning, he received the following telegram, also from Lugano:

”Child dangerously ill. Come at once.

”UNCLE.”

FOOTNOTES:

[N] _Tota_ is Piedmontese for young girl, often used in the sense of _grisette_. [_Translator's note._]

[O] It must be remembered that Padua and its university were at that time dominated by the Austrians, and that patriotism drove this ”already famous professor” to give up his position and migrate to free Piedmont.

[_Translator's note._]

CHAPTER X

SIGNORA LUISA, COME HOME!

In the early afternoon of the twenty-seventh of September Luisa was returning from Porlezza with some doc.u.ments to copy for the notary. In those days the rocks between S. Michele and Porlezza were perfectly bare, and dest.i.tute of the narrow pathway which now runs across them.

Luisa had had herself ferried that short distance, and had then walked along the lane that, like all those of my little world, both ancient and modern, would admit of no other method of travel; that pretty deceitful lane, that seeks in every way to avoid leading whither the traveller wishes to go. At Cressogno it pa.s.ses above Villa Maironi, which, however, is not visible from the path.

”What if I should meet her?” Luisa thought, her blood boiling. But she met no one. On the slope between Cressogno and Campo, the sun beat fiercely. When she reached the cool, high valley known as Campo, she sat down in the shade of the colossal chestnut-tree that is still alive, the last of three or four venerable patriarchs, and looked towards the houses of her native Castello, cl.u.s.tered in a circle round a lofty peak among those shady crags. She thought of her dead mother, and was glad she, at least, was at rest. Presently she heard some one exclaim: ”Oh, blessed Madonna!” It was Signora Peppina, who was also on her way from Cressogno, and who was in despair because neither at S. Mamette, Loggio, nor Cressogno had she been able to find any eggs. ”Carlo will beat me this time! He'll kill me outright, my dear!” She would have liked to go on to Puria, but she was half dead with fatigue. What roads! How many stones! ”When I think of my Milan, my dear!” She sat down on the gra.s.s beside Luisa, saying many affectionate things to her, and wanted her to guess with whom she had been speaking about her, only a few minutes before. ”With the Signora Marchesa! Certainly! Yes indeed! Oh, my dear....” It looked as if Signora Peppina had great things to tell, but did not dare do so, and as their presence in her throat was causing her discomfort, she was bound to make Luisa draw them out. ”What a business!” she would exclaim from time to time. ”What a business! What language! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” But Luisa held her peace. At last the other yielded to the terrible tickling in her throat, and poured forth her story. She had gone to the Marchesa's cook to borrow some eggs, and the Signora Marchesa, hearing her voice, had insisted upon seeing her, and had kept her there chattering. In her heart she had felt what she believed to be a heavenly inspiration, which prompted her to speak of that unhappy family. Perhaps this was the right moment! She must speak about Maria, ”that precious darling, that sweet little mouse, that dear little creature!” But alas! The inspiration had come from the devil and not from Heaven! She had begun to speak, had been going to say how lovely Maria was, how sweet, and how wonderfully precocious, when that ugly old woman interrupted her, looking as black as a thunder-cloud.

”Say no more about her, let her alone, Signora Bianconi. I am aware she is very badly behaved, and indeed one cannot expect her to be otherwise!” Then Peppina had tried sounding another note, and had touched upon Uncle Piero's misfortune in having lost his eye. ”The Lord chastises the dishonest, Signora Bianconi.” Here Peppina glanced at Luisa and regretted her chattering. She began caressing her, reproaching herself for having spoken, and entreated her to be calm. Luisa a.s.sured her that she was perfectly calm, that nothing coming from that source could surprise her. But Peppina insisted upon giving her a kiss, and then went her way, murmuring a string of ”Oh, dear me's!” and haunted by a vague suspicion that she had made a mess of it!

Luisa rose and turned to look towards Cressogno, clenching her fists.

”If I only had a horse-whip!” she thought ”If I could only lash her!”

The idea of a meeting, the old idea that had made her quiver with pa.s.sion four years ago, on the night of her mother's death, had flashed across her mind shortly before, as she pa.s.sed Cressogno, and had once more taken violent possession of her, and now made her start suddenly downwards. She checked her steps at once, however, and returning slowly, went towards S. Mamette, stopping every now and then to think, her brow clouded, her lips tightly compressed, seeking to untangle a knot in the thread of a scheme she was weaving in her secret heart.

At Casarico she sought out the Professor to offer him an opportunity of meeting Ester at her house the next day at two o'clock. As she was leaving she asked him if the Maironi doc.u.ments were still in his possession. The Professor, greatly astonished at this question, replied that they were, expecting an explanation, but Luisa went away without further words. She was anxious to get home, for she could not rely either upon Cia or Uncle Piero to look after Maria, and she had little confidence in the girl to whom she had given notice. She found Maria alone on the church-place, and scolded Veronica. Then she went to her room and began a letter to Franco.

She had been writing about five minutes when she heard a gentle tap on the window of the adjoining room. That window looked out upon a short flight of steps, leading from the square by the church to some stables, and thence to a short cut to Albogasio Superiore. Luisa went into the little room, and saw behind the iron grating the red and distracted countenance of Barborin Pasotti, who motioned to her to be quiet, and asked if she had visitors. Upon being rea.s.sured, Barborin glanced swiftly up and down, and hastily descending the steps entered the house in great trepidation.

Poor woman, she was on forbidden ground, and before her loomed the spectre of the wrathful Pasotti. Pasotti was in Lugano. ”Oh, Lord, yes!

In Lugano.” Having imparted this information to Luisa the unhappy woman began to roll her eyes and squirm. Pasotti had gone to Lugano on account of the great dinner that was to take place on the morrow--to purchase provisions. How? Had Luisa not heard about the dinner? Did she not know who was coming? Why! The Signora Marchesa! The Signora Marchesa Maironi!

Luisa started.

Barborin, misunderstanding the expression of her eyes, thought she read a reproach there, and began to cry, her face buried in her hands, shaking those two poor black curls, and saying through her fingers that she was so distressed about it, so distressed! She would rather have lived on bread and water for a year than invite the Marchesa to dinner.