Part 11 (1/2)
”If you fail, as you fear, she might feel bound to take up the task where you leave it.”
”And she might succeed. But--”
”But what?”
”Revenge is a cold bedfellow, and women are designed to cherish finer sentiments. As for Lucrezia, she will doubtless swear a vendetta, like those Sardinians.”
”She has.”
”Indeed! Well, she is the kind to nourish hatred, for she is like her father, silent, somber, unforgiving, whereas the Contessa is all suns.h.i.+ne. But hear me talk! I am dying of fatigue. The funeral is at twelve? It will be very sad and the poor girl will be under the greatest strain then, so we must be with her, you and I. And then I must be off again upon the trail of this infamous Cardi, who is, and who is not. Ah, well!” He yawned widely. ”We may accomplish the impossible, or if not we may press him so closely that he will sail for your America, which would not be so bad, after all.”
Of course the country people turned out for the funeral, but for the most part they came from curiosity. To Norvin the presence of such spectators at the last sacred rites for the dead seemed sacrilegious, indecent, and he knew that it must add to Margherita's pain. It was an endless, heart-rending ordeal, a great somber, impressive pageant, of which he remembered little save a tall, tawny girl crushed beneath a grief so great that his own seemed trivial in comparison.
She was in such a state of physical collapse after the service that she did not send for him until the second day following. He came timidly even then, for he was at a loss how to comfort her, vividly conscious as he was of his own guilt and shame. He found her crouched upon one of the old stone benches in the garden in the full hot glare of the sun. It relieved him to find that she had lost her unnatural self-control, having fallen, it seemed, into much the same mood he would have expected in any woman. It had been so hard to find what to say heretofore--for she was braver than those about her and her grief was so deep as to render words of comfort futile. Her eyes now were heavy and full of haunting shadows, her ivory cheeks were pale, her lips tremulous, and she seemed at last to crave sympathy.
”I do not know why I have summoned you,” she said, leaving her hand in his, ”unless it is because my loneliness has begun and I lack the courage to face it.”
”I have been waiting. It will always be so, Contessa. I shall come from across the world whenever you need me.”
She smiled listlessly. ”You are very good. I knew you were waiting. It seems so strange to know that he is gone”--her voice caught, her eyes filled, then cleared without overflowing--”and that the world is moving on again in the same way and only I am left standing by the wayside. You cannot wait with me; you must move on with the rest of the world. You had planned to go home, and you must, for you have your work and it calls you.”
”Please don't think of it. I sha'n't leave you for a long time. I promised Martel--”
”You promised? Then he had reason to suspect?”
”He would not acknowledge the possibility, and yet he must have had a premonition.”
”Oh, why will men trust themselves when women know! If he had told me, if he had confided his fears to me, I could have told him what to do.”
”I couldn't leave now, even if I wished, for I might be needed by the--the law. You understand? It isn't finished with me yet.”
”The law will not need you,” she told him bitterly. ”The law will do nothing. The task is for other hands.”
After a pause he said, ”I had news from home to-day,--rather bad news.” Then at her quick look of inquiry he went on: ”Nothing serious, I hope, nothing to take me away. My mother is ill and has cabled me to come.”
”Then you will go at once, of course?”
”No. I've tried to explain to her the situation here, and the necessity of my remaining for a time at least. Unless she grows worse I shall stay and try to help Neri in his search.”
”It is a great comfort to have you near, for in you I see a part of-- Martel. You were his other half. But there are other aching hearts, it seems. That mother calls to you, and you ought to go. Besides, I must begin my work.”
”What work?”
She met his eyes squarely. ”You know without asking. Neri will fail; no Italian could succeed; no one could succeed except a Sicilian. I am one.”
”You mean to bring those men to justice?”
She nodded. ”Certainly! Who else can do it?”
”But, my dear Signorina, think what that means. They are of a cla.s.s with which you can have no contact. They are the dregs; there is the Mafia to reckon with. How will you go about it?”