to step behind the pedestal of the statue which held the lamp. "Lock the
garden door," said Agatha to her maid, who came out of the bedroom, "but
leave this one open; it is horribly hot in my room."
The girl returned after obeying her mistress's orders. Michel was
comforted, Agatha was alone with her maid. But he was locked in, and how
could he get out? or how could he explain his presence if he were
discovered hiding there at the princess's door?
"I will tell the truth," he thought, not admitting to himself that it
was only half of the truth. "I will say that I saw the Piccinino climb
the park wall, and that I came to defend her whom I adore against a man
whom I do not trust."
But he determined to wait until the maid had been dismissed, for he did
not know whether she possessed her mistress's entire confidence, and
whether she would not attribute a criminal meaning to that mark of their
intimacy.
A few moments later, Agatha did dismiss her. There was a sound of
footsteps and of doors, as if the maid closed them all behind her as she
withdrew. Determined not to delay showing himself, Michel resolutely
entered Agatha's bedroom, but found himself alone there. The princess
had gone into her oratory before retiring, and Michel saw her kneeling
on a velvet cushion. She was dressed in a long, floating white robe. Her
black hair fell to her feet in two great braids, the weight of which
would have disturbed her sleep if she had kept them about her head at
night. The faint light of a lamp under a bluish globe cast a melancholy,
transparent reflection upon her, which made her resemble a ghost. Michel
paused, overcome with respect and dread.
But, as he was hesitating whether he should interrupt her prayer, and
wondering how he could attract her attention without frightening her, he
heard the door of the little passageway open, and steps, so light that
none but a jealous lover's ear could distinguish them, approach Agatha's
bedroom. Michel had just time to jump behind the bedstead of carved
ebony, decorated with small ivory figures. It did not stand against the
wall, as our beds do, but some little distance away, as is customary in
hot countries, with its foot near the centre of the room. Between the
wall and the high headboard of that ancient piece of furniture there was
sufficient room for Michel to hide. He did not stoop for fear of moving
the white satin curtains. He had no time to take many precautions.
Chance favored him, for, despite the swift and inquisitive glance which
the Piccinino cast about the room, he saw no disorder, no movement to
betray the presence of a man who had arrived before him.
Nevertheless, he was about to take the prudent course of making a
thorough search, when the princess, hearing his light footsteps, half
rose, saying:
"Is that you, Nunziata?"
Receiving no reply, she put aside the portière which half concealed the
interior of her bedroom, and saw the Piccinino standing in front of her.
She rose to her feet and stood motionless with surprise and terror.
But, realizing that she must not betray her painful emotion in the
presence of a man of that character, she kept silent so that her altered
voice might reveal nothing, and walked toward him as if expecting him to
explain his audacious visit.
The Piccinino knelt on one knee, and said, handing her a folded
parchment:
"Signora, I knew that you must be extremely anxious concerning this
important document, and I did not wish to postpone its delivery until
to-morrow. I came here during the evening, but you were absent, and I
was obliged to wait until you had returned. Forgive me if my visit is
somewhat opposed to the proprieties of the society in which you live,
but your highness is aware that I am compelled to act on all occasions,
and especially in this matter, with the greatest secrecy."
"Signor captain," replied Agatha, after opening and glancing at the
parchment, "I knew that my uncle's will had been stolen from Doctor
Recuperati this morning. The poor doctor came here this afternoon, quite
beside himself, to tell me of his misadventure. He could not imagine how
his wallet had been taken from his pocket, and he accused Abbé Ninfo. I
was not alarmed, because I felt sure that Abbé Ninfo would have to
account to you for his theft in the course of the day. So I comforted
the doctor, bidding him not mention the incident, and promising him that
the will would soon be recovered. You can well believe that I could give
him no hint as to how it would be done and by whom. Now, captain, it is
not proper for me to have in my hands a document which I should have the
appearance of having seized because I was distrustful of my uncle's
intentions or the doctor's good faith. I will ask you, therefore, when
the moment to produce it shall have come, to restore it by some means,
indirect but sure, to the depositary who previously had it in charge.
You are too ingenious not to discover such a means without betraying
yourself in any way."
"You wish me to take charge of this again? can you think of such a
thing, signora?" said the Piccinino, who was still standing and waiting
impatiently an invitation to sit; but Agatha stood as she spoke to him,
as if she anticipated his speedy withdrawal, while he was determined to
prolong the interview at any price. He suggested difficulties.
"It is impossible," he said; "the cardinal is in the habit of signifying
with his eyes that he wants his will to be shown to him, and he thinks
of it every day. To be sure," he added, to gain time, resting his hand
on the back of a chair as if he were very tired, "to be sure, the
cardinal, being deprived of his interpreter, Abbé Ninfo, it would be
easy for the doctor to pretend that he did not understand his eminence's
eloquent glances.--Especially," continued the brigand, moving his chair
a little and resting his elbow on it, "especially as the doctor's usual
stupidity would make his failure to understand very probable. But," he
added, respectfully offering the chair to the princess so that she might
set him the example of sitting down, "the cardinal's meaning may be
understood by some other trusty servitor, who would force the excellent
doctor to the wall by saying to him: 'You see, his eminence wants to
look at his will!'"
And the Piccinino made a graceful gesture to indicate that it pained him
to see her standing before him.
But Agatha did not choose to understand, nor was she willing to keep the
will, in order to avoid having to thank the Piccinino at such a moment
in terms which should offend him by too great reserve, or encourage him
by too great warmth. She was determined to maintain her proud attitude,
while overwhelming him with manifestations of a confidence without
bounds so far as her material interests were concerned.
"No, captain," she said, still standing and in perfect control of
herself, "the cardinal will not ask again to see the will, for his
condition has grown much worse in twenty-four hours. It seems that that
wretched Ninfo kept him in a state of excitement which prolonged his
life; for, since he disappeared this morning, my uncle has been in a
sort of lethargic state, bordering closely, I doubt not, on the repose
of the grave. His eyes are dull; he no longer seems to pay any heed to
what is going on about him. He does not notice the absence of his
familiar, and the doctor is compelled to resort to all the expedients of
his profession to combat a drowsiness from which he fears that there
will be no awakening."
"Doctor Recuperati has always lacked common sense," rejoined the
Piccinino, seating himself on the edge of a console, and letting his
cloak fall at his feet as if by inadvertence. "I ask your highness," he
added, folding his arms across his breast, "if the so-called laws of
humanity are not absurd and false in such cases, like almost all the
laws of human respect and hypocritical propriety? What benefit do we
confer on a dying man when we try to recall him to life, with the
certainty that we shall not succeed, and that we are simply prolonging
his torture in the world? If I were in Doctor Recuperati's place, I
would say to myself that his eminence has lived quite long enough. It is
the opinion of all respectable people, and of your highness yourself,
that that man has lived too long. It is high time to allow him to repose
from the fatiguing journey of this life, since he seems to desire it, so
far as he himself is concerned, and to arrange his head comfortably on
his pillow for his last sleep. I ask your highness's pardon for leaning
on this console; my legs are giving way under me, I have run about so
much to-day in your interest; and if I do not rest for a moment, it will
be impossible for me to return to Nicolosi to-night."
Agatha made a gesture which invited the brigand to occupy the chair that
stood between them; but she remained standing herself, to signify that
she did not propose that he should abuse the privilege.
XLIII
A CRISIS
"It seems to me," said the princess, as she placed the will on the
console at the Piccinino's elbow, "that we are digressing a little from
the real question. I will remind your lordship of the facts. My uncle
has a few moments to live, and he will not think of his will again. Thus
the day when the document must be produced is near at hand. Now, I am
very desirous that when that day comes it shall be in the doctor's hands
and not in mine."
"That is a very noble scruple on your part," rejoined the Piccinino, in
a firm tone which concealed his irritation; "but I have the same scruple
on my own account, and, as everything strange and mysterious that
happens on this island is attributed to the fabulous Captain Piccinino,
I do not wish to have any hand in this restitution. Your ladyship will
be kind enough, therefore, to arrange it in whatever way you may deem
best. It was not I who stole the will. I found it on the thief. I bring
it back; and I consider that I have done enough not to deserve the
charge of lukewarmness in your service. Doubtless Abbé Ninfo's
disappearance will soon be noticed, and the name of the Piccinino will
occur at once to the popular imagination as well as to the crafty brains
of the police authorities. Result, fresh investigations on the heels of
those of which my humble personality is already the object, and which I
have escaped thus far only by a miracle. I have accepted the risks of
this affair; I have the _monster_ in my power. Your highness's mind is
at rest concerning the safety of your friends and your own freedom of
action. You are in possession of the document that entitles you to great
wealth. Do you wish my life? I am ready to lay it down for you a hundred
times; but bid me to do it, and do not drive me to my destruction by
subterfuges, without giving me the consolation of knowing that I die for
you."
The Piccinino uttered these last words in a tone that made it impossible
for Agatha longer to avoid entering upon a delicate subject.
"Captain," she said, forcing herself to smile, "you judge me ill if you
think that I wish to rid myself of my burden of gratitude to you. My
disinclination to take this paper, which represents to me the title to
great wealth, should prove my confidence in you and my purpose to allow
you to dispose absolutely of everything that belongs to me."
"I do not understand, signora," replied the bandit, moving restlessly on
his chair. "Did you think that I came to your assistance merely to do a
profitable stroke of business, and for no other purpose?"
"Captain," replied Agatha, outwardly unmoved by the Piccinino's real or
pretended indignation, "you style yourself, and justly, the _justicier
d'aventure_. That is to say, you do justice according to your heart and
your conscience, without regard to formal laws, which are very often
contrary to those of natural and divine justice. You assist the weak,
you rescue victims, you protect those whose feelings and opinions seem
to you to deserve your esteem against those whom you regard as the
enemies of your country and of mankind. You punish cowards and you
prevent the execution of their base designs. All this is a mission which
legally constituted society does not always understand, but of which I
appreciate the real merit and heroism. Need I say more to convince you
of my esteem for you, and do you think that I have failed to manifest
it? But since society denies the propriety of your intervention, and
since, in order to continue it, you are forced to provide yourself with
abundant resources, it would be insane--it would be impertinent--to seek
your protection without offering you the means of putting it forth and
of extending its scope. I thought of that--I could not fail to think of
it; and I determined not to deal with you as with an ordinary advocate,
but to allow you to fix yourself the price of your loyal and generous
services. I should have considered that I insulted you by putting a
price upon them. In my eyes they are beyond price. That is why, while I
invite you to draw at your discretion upon a princely fortune, I am
still forced to rely upon your modesty and generosity to consider that I
have paid my debt to you."
"These are very flattering words, and your highness's soft speech would
fascinate me, if my ideas were such as you attribute to me. But if you
will deign to be seated a moment and listen to me, I shall be able to
explain my ideas without fear of abusing the patience with which you
honor me."
"On my word!" thought Agatha, as she took a seat at some distance from
the Piccinino, "this man's persistence is like destiny, inevitable."
"I shall soon have finished," continued the Piccinino, with a crafty
smile, when he saw that she was seated at last. "I look after my own
interests while looking after other people's, that is true; but every
man understands the advantages of life as circumstances impel him to do.
Some people want nothing but gold. Those are vulgar instances,--the
market price, as they say, I believe. But with certain others, who are
more wealthy in charms and in noble qualities than in ducats, the
intelligent man aspires to a less vulgar recompense. The material wealth
of a person like Princess Agatha is a mere trifle compared with the
treasures of generosity and delicacy which her heart contains. And if
the man of action, who has devoted himself to her service, has done so
with a certain degree of promptitude and zeal, is he not at liberty to
aspire to some nobler gratification than that of putting his hand in her
purse? Ah! yes, there are moral joys far more exalted, and the offer of
your fortune as a substitute for them is so far from satisfying me, that
it wounds my heart and my mind like an insult."
Agatha began to be really terrified, for the Piccinino had risen and
drawn nearer to her. She dared not change her position, she feared that
she should tremble and turn pale; and yet, brave as she was, that young
man's face and voice caused her a frightful shock. His dress, his
features, his manners, his voice awoke a whole world of memories within
her, and, strive as she would to raise him to a level where she could
esteem him and be truly grateful to him, an unconquerable aversion
closed her heart to such sentiments. She had so long refused Fra
Angelo's suggestions that this man's assistance should be procured, that
she would assuredly have persisted in not having recourse to him, had it
not been certain that Abbé Ninfo had tried to hire him to procure the
assassination or abduction of Michel, pointing to the will as a means of
rewarding his services.
But it was too late. The noble-hearted and ingenuous Capuchin of Bel
Passo had not foreseen that his former ward, whom he had accustomed
himself to look upon as a child, might fall in love with a woman several
years older than himself. And yet what was more natural? The persons for
whom one has much respect have no age. To Fra Angelo the Princess of
Palmarosa, Saint Agatha of Catania, and the Madonna, had no sex even. If
anyone had interrupted his sleep to tell him that at that moment Agatha
was in imminent danger from his ward, he would have exclaimed: "Ah! the
wretched boy must have seen her diamonds!" And, as he started to go to
the princess's assistance, he would have said to himself that she had
but a word to say to keep the brigand at a distance; but Agatha felt an
invincible repugnance to say that word, and she still hoped that she
would not be forced to that expedient.
"I understand very well, signor captain," she said with increasing
coldness, "that you ask for no other reward but my esteem; but I repeat
that I have proved it to you on this very occasion, and I think that
your pride should be satisfied."
"Yes, signora, my pride; but it is not a question of my pride alone. Nor
are you sufficiently well acquainted with it to measure its extent and
to know whether it is not superior to any pecuniary sacrifice that you
could make in my favor. I do not want your will, I want no part of your
fortune, now or ever, do you understand?"
And he knelt at her feet and took her hand with savage vehemence.
Agatha rose, and yielding to an indignant, perhaps injudicious impulse,
she took the will from the console.
"Since that is so," she said, trying to tear it, "it is as well that
this fortune should be neither mine nor yours, for the recovery of this
paper is the least important service you have rendered me, captain; and
had it not been connected with another of much greater importance, I
should never have asked you to do it. Let me destroy this will, and then
you can ask me for a legitimate share of my affection, without my
blushing to listen to you."
But the parchment resisted the efforts of her weak hands, and the
Piccinino had time to take it from her and place it under a large piece
of Roman mosaic, which lay on the console, and which she would have had
even more difficulty in lifting.
"Let us put this aside," he said, with a smile, "and think no more about
it. Let us suppose even that it never existed; we are well aware that it
cannot be a bond between us, and that you owe me nothing in exchange for
your fortune. I know that you are already rich enough to do without
these millions; I know too that, if you were penniless, you would not
give your friendship as the reward of a mere pecuniary service which you
expected to pay for with money. I admire your pride, signora; I
appreciate it, and I am proud to appreciate it. Ah! now that we have put
that prosaic thought out of our hearts, I feel much happier, for I hope!
I feel much bolder, too, for the friendship of such a woman as you seems
to me so desirable that I would risk everything to obtain it."
"Do not speak of friendship," said Agatha, pushing him away, for he was
beginning to handle her long tresses and to wind them about his arm as
if to chain himself to her; "speak of the gratitude I owe you; it is
very great, I shall never deny it, and I will prove it to you when
occasion offers, against your will if I must. The service you have
rendered me entitles you to services from me, and some day we shall be
quits! But friendship implies mutual sympathy, and, in order to obtain
mine, you must earn it and deserve it."
"What must I do?" cried the Piccinino, vehemently. "Speak! oh! I implore
you, tell me what I must do to win your love!"
"Respect me in the depths of your heart," she replied, "and do not
approach me with those bold eyes and that self-satisfied smile, which
are an insult to me."
Seeing her cold and lofty bearing, the Piccinino was angry; but he knew
that anger is an unwise counsellor. He desired to please her, and he
controlled his temper.
"You do not understand me," he said, leading her back to her chair and
sitting down beside her. "Oh! no, you fail utterly to understand a heart
like mine! You are too much the woman of the world, too politic, and I
am too ingenuous, too rough, too uncivilized! You are afraid of wild
outbreaks on my part, because you see that I love you madly; but you are
not afraid of causing me pain, because you have no conception of the
pain your indifference may cause me. You think that a mountaineer of
Ætna, a brigand and adventurer, can know only sensual transports; and
when I ask you for your heart, you think that you have to defend your
person. If I were a duke or marquis, you would listen to me without
alarm, you would console me for my grief; and, pointing out to me that
your love was out of the question, you would offer me your friendship.
And I should be gentle, patient, prostrate at your feet in melancholy
and affectionate gratitude. It is because I am of the common people, a
peasant, that you deny me even your sympathy! Your pride takes fright
because you think that I demand something as a right acquired by my
services, and you continue to throw my services at my head as if I
relied upon them as entitling me to a recompense from you, as if I
remembered them when I am looking at you and talking with you! Alas! I
do not know how to express myself; I simply say what I think, without
torturing my mind to find a way to convince you of it without saying it.
I know nothing of the art of your flatterers; I am no more a courtier of
beauty than of power, and the curse that rests upon my life makes it
impossible for me to play the attendant cavalier like the Marquis della
Serra. I have but an hour at night to come, at the risk of my life, to
tell you that I am your slave, and you answer that you do not choose to
be my sovereign, but my debtor, my customer, who will pay me handsomely!
Fie, fie, signora! you place an ice-cold hand upon a burning heart!"
"If you have in your mind nothing more than friendship," said Agatha,
"if you really aspire to be one of my friends simply, I will promise you
that that may come about----"
"Let me speak!" rejoined the Piccinino, with renewed animation, his face
lighting up with the beauty which was his when he was really moved. "At
first I dared not ask you for anything more than your friendship, and it
was your childish fright that forced the word love from my lips. Very
good! what more can a man say to a woman to restore her courage? I love
you, therefore you should not tremble when I take your hand. I respect
you, as you see, for we are alone, and I am in perfect control of my
passions; but I cannot control my thoughts and the outbursts of my love.
I have not my whole life in which to prove it to you. I have but this
instant in which to tell you of it, so listen. If I could pass six hours
of every day at your feet, like the marquis, I might perhaps be
satisfied with the feeling that you have for him; but, as I have only
this hour which is passing before me like a vision, I must have your
love, or else a despair which I dare not imagine. So let me speak of
love; listen to me and do not be afraid. If you say no, it shall be no,
but if you would listen to me without thinking of protecting yourself,
if you would deign to understand me once for all, if you would forget
the world you live in, and the pride which is out of place here, and
which has no existence in the sphere in which I live, you would be
touched because you would be convinced. Oh! yes. If you were a simple
soul, and if you did not put prejudices in the place of the pure
inspirations of nature and of truth, you would feel that there is one
heart more youthful and more ardent than all those you have spurned, the
heart of a lion or tiger with men, but a man's heart with women, a
child's heart with you! You would pity me at least. You would see my
life as it is: constantly tormented and threatened, a never-ending
nightmare! And solitude! Ah! it is solitude of the heart above all else
which is killing me, because my heart is even harder to please than my
senses. You know how I bore myself with Mila this morning, do you not?
She is beautiful, surely, and neither in character nor in mind is she
one of the common herd. If I had chosen to love her, and if I had felt
for a single moment that I did love her, she would have loved me, she
would have been mine all her life. But with her I thought only of you.
You are the one whom I love, and you are the only woman I have ever
loved, although I have been the lover of many women! Love me then,
though it be but for a moment, just long enough to tell me so, or else,
when I return to-night by a certain spot called the _Destatore's_ Cross,
I shall go mad! I shall dig into the earth with my nails, to insult and
cast to the winds the ashes of the man who gave me life."