The Brandinis had sought refuge in the house of Nina Borghi, the old
man's sister, and the mother of Luigi, and it so happened that the
train by which they fled was the same in which the hero Luigi also took
his flight. It was, however, only early the next morning, at a station,
just as Luigi was leaving the train, that they discovered each other.
The unexpected sight of them so put Luigi off his balance, he would
have passed them without speaking, but that the old man seized him by
the arm and obliged him to listen to his tale of perplexity.
In reply, Luigi merely answered shortly, "Go to my mother," and hurried
away. The first thing he did, however, on arriving at his own garrison,
was to go straight to the telegraph-office, and, in a message teeming
with excitement, forewarn his mother of the arrival of her brother. So
alarming was the tone of the telegram, that on receiving it the poor
lady, who lived by herself outside Castellamere, near Naples, was
seriously concerned, and her anxiety was not lessened by hearing from
her brother and his daughter of the danger that was threatening them as
well as her own son.
Captain Mansana had surmised that the Brandini family must have
journeyed southwards, as there were night trains only on the southern
lines. He therefore followed on their track, but, after two days spent
in a vain attempt at finding a starting-point for further
investigations, he turned back and made for the town where Luigi Borghi
was stationed. He would probably know where the two were in hiding, and
he should be made to give the information, or take the consequences.
As Mansana himself was well known, he set to work with great
circumspection, in order that he might take Luigi unawares. He had
already spent two days in the town before he came across the young
officer in a street, where he had been watching for him, in one of the
quiet little _cafes_ frequented by the townsfolk.
To Mansana's surprise, Luigi was not so much alarmed on seeing him
as might have been expected, and he further added to Mansana's
astonishment by telling him without reserve where the Brandini family
was then staying. This candour aroused Mansana's suspicions, and he
pointed out to Luigi the possible consequences of deception; but the
little lieutenant swore with unmoved countenance that he was speaking
truth, and Mansana, therefore, preferring to leave any further
reckoning with Luigi for the future, started by rail that same day for
the south.
What was his purpose? It was still unshaken. Amanda was to be his! For
this reason only had he spared Luigi. Since Amanda's flight, so
artfully carried out, his mind had chafed under the determination that
such an act should not be allowed to go unpunished. He did not love
her, he said to himself. He hated her, and for this very reason he
would have possession of her--or else----!
With these thoughts, from which he could not free himself, were mingled
visions of his fellow officers laughing and scoffing at him. He had
been led by the nose and worsted by a little maiden fresh from a
convent, and a little lieutenant who had only just left school! But
he could not himself understand how it had come about that this
contest with two insignificant children was the termination of his
proud career. The image of the Princess, which lately, during his
estrangement from her, had but seldom come into his mind, and then only
to be angrily repulsed, seemed now, as the sense of his weakness and
humiliation grew, to take stronger hold of him. She was the goal, the
destiny of his life! Such was the height to which she was now raised in
his estimation. And in these high thoughts of her he was influenced,
not by her rank, but by the glow and brilliancy of her ideas, and, as
it were, the glamour that surrounded her whole being, exalted as she
was by the universal admiration that was tendered her. But, as the
charms of the Princess took firmer hold upon his mind, those of Amanda
waned; he did not even feel quite certain that she was not a little
round-shouldered; at any rate, he was able calmly to speculate upon the
point. Those who have contrived to make us ridiculous in our own and
other people's eyes are not always gainers by their efforts. So it
happened that Mansana, having come to the conclusion that Amanda's
figure was clumsy, her face and conversation insignificant, her voice
monotonous, her hair extravagantly dressed, and her wheedling manner
foolish and silly, began to ask himself if, after all, he would not be
making himself still more ludicrous by trying to force such a person to
become the Signora Mansana. Even more ridiculous did it seem that he
should be willing to sacrifice himself on her account. What, then, was
he to do? Return to the Princess? The road to her lay blocked--blocked
a hundred thousand times, by his own pride! Break with Amanda and speed
further afield, perhaps to the Spanish civil war? This would be the
life of an adventurer, mere folly; he might almost as well commit
suicide quietly at home. Should he retrace his steps and let things be
as they were before? The Princess lost to him, the envy and admiration
of his comrades foregone, his confidence in himself destroyed? There
was no means of retreat open to him, except and only through the much
despised Amanda, the cause of all his trouble. As her patron and
protector, he might at least pose as a victorious hero, and even
though the price that he must pay for such a position were a life of
unhappiness--well, if it must be so, it must! His honour would at any
rate be saved, and no one would ever be able to penetrate the true
secret of his heart. It would surely redound to his credit that he
had rejected a rich princess for the daughter of an impoverished
pensioner--that he had won her in open combat, in combat even against
her own desire. But he had no sooner come to this conclusion than his
mind grew disturbed at the thought of all the falsehoods which must be
involved in the preservation of this show of honour to the world. He
jumped up from his seat in the _coupe_, but there were others in the
carriage with him, and he seated himself again. The train was carrying
him nearer and nearer to his goal; and what a goal! The certain ruin of
his whole life, as a mere sacrifice to honour, although, even at the
best, it was extremely doubtful whether the object of the sacrifice
would be attained. The merciful power of sleep intervened amid these
gloomy thoughts; he slept and dreamed of his mother, who, with her true
and loving eyes, seemed to watch over him like an angel. His tears fell
fast till, at the moment when the train drew up, just outside Naples,
he was awakened by an old man in the _coupe_, who could not bear to
hear his sobs. Mansana sprang out of the carriage. It was a glorious
morning, and the relentless clearness of the sky, bounded by the
faintly defined outlines of the mountain chains, seemed to Mansana
ruthlessly to expose his misery; he shivered in the chilly morning air,
and returned to the atmosphere of the smoky engine, just then preparing
to steam out again, to the rattling and racket of the noisy train, and
to his own stifling thoughts.
A few minutes later, and they were coasting close beside the sea; what
would he not have given for the train to have slipped from its rails
and glided quietly, gently, out into the depths of the blue water. What
peace! What blessed release in such a death!
As the train stopped on reaching Naples, he hid himself in the corner
of his carriage, lest in the crowd of loiterers there might be some one
who knew and might recognise him. The day seemed to grow more and more
beautiful as they threaded their way through the little sea-coast
towns. The sun shone as warmly as on a summer's morning, and the bright
rays refracted through the soft sea mist tinged with exquisite colour
the mountains, sea and landscape. He left the train and drove towards
his destination; then, dismissing the carriage, began to climb the
steep rock-hewn steps leading to the place which was to be his
journey's end. In those moments--with the waters of the Bay beneath
him, and beyond the beautiful view of the distant islands like
shapeless sea monsters guarding the approach, with the mountains capped
by Vesuvius, and the towns gleaming white under the shimmer of the lazy
smoke wreaths--he felt the reality of life. But it was not his own life
spent in a vain chase after glory, a struggle for something he could
not have defined, now that he knew it was to end in nothing; no, it was
the power of a life such as was designed for him by the God of the
vaulted heaven above, with the brightness of His glory that
transfigures and irradiates everything, even to the end and limit
ordained for mortality.
He made his way up towards the highest point, and before long saw the
house, surrounded by a high spiked railing, standing just beyond the
brow of the hill. His heart beat fast; he knew there could be no
mistake, as the road and the house answered exactly to the description
just given him by his driver. No, there he was, for good or evil. And,
before he had clearly realised what his actual feelings were, he caught
sight of her--Amanda--dressed in her light morning gown, with a smile
upon her lips, at something she had apparently heard or said, as she
stepped out on to the balcony. But almost immediately, she saw him,
and, giving one of her familiar little screams, ran inside the house
again.
Just as an exhausted sportsman, brought unexpectedly in view of his
long-hunted quarry, feels his lost buoyancy and energy return, so now
Mansana felt suddenly within him an uncontrollable strength, an
indomitable purpose, and, before he really knew what he was doing, he
had reached the iron gate within the railing and, without stopping to
ring and ask admission, had clambered over to the other side. His
pent-up feelings relieved by this exertion, all his old military
instincts revived, he looked round, saw the key attached to the inside
fastening, and promptly took it into his own possession. She was now a
prisoner in his hands. The door of the house was only half closed; he
opened it, and saw before him a large, bright, corridor, with inlaid
mosaic stone floor, stained-glass windows which reflected curious
lights and shadows on the statuettes, and on the vases, which were
filled with flowers, palms and a variety of waving plants. His eye
caught sight of a couple of quaint, old-fashioned settees, and on one
of these he noticed a straw hat with blue ribbons--did it belong to
her?--and on the other, he saw a parasol of a certain peculiar watered
silk, with carved, costly handle, set with a large blue stone. Where
had he seen this parasol before? A painful presentiment seized him,
and, without giving himself time to clear his recollection, he hastily
rang the bell. What he would do, he must do quickly. But no one came in
answer, and there he stood, waiting, trembling, unable to control
himself. He grew desperate, he felt inaction no longer endurable, he
must do something or give himself up for lost; he rang the bell again,
and even this slight effort seemed to put fresh vigour into his will;
come what might, he would now lose or win, there should be no middle
course. And at that moment a door opened, and from the room behind, the
light streamed into the inner entrance hall--and showed him some one
moving towards him. He could only distinguish, through the coloured
glass, that she was tall and dressed in blue; he heard her shut the
door behind her, and then everything in the corridor grew clouded and
confused. Who was this? A genuine fear came over him at a sudden
alarming thought; was the house full of people, and was he, perhaps,
the victim of some plot? Who could tell in what confusion of perplexing
circumstances he might find himself involved, what importunate
individuals he might come across here? These thoughts stirred a strong
spirit of indignation and resistance. Was it a fool's journey he had
undertaken? Not this time! He summoned all his powers of will and
determination, and was in the act of feeling in his pocket to make sure
of a weapon, when the large door opened and through the doorway he
saw--yes, without a doubt it was--Theresa Leaney, who, in a blue dress
and with pale face, now drew nearer to him.
He stood motionless, agitated and dismayed.
The door between them stood wide open, and for an instant they remained
one on either side of the threshold. Outside as well as within the
house, all was as silent as themselves: and in this silence she held
her right hand towards him. A sudden thrill shook him. He stretched out
his arms, and, with a wailing, plaintive sound, as of a stringed
instrument struck unawares, rushed into her wide-open arms. Then,
taking her by both hands, he led her to the sofa, took her on his knee,
buried his face in her bosom, and, pressing her tightly to him, lifted
her in his strong arms, and finally, placing her beside him once again,
with his head upon her breast, let his tears flow unrestrained. Still
without a word of explanation, he threw himself upon his knees before
her and gazed up into the face, that now smiled down on him in
wondering admiration. Then, indeed--and the experience was all
essential to his future happiness--did Giuseppe Mansana feel himself
humiliated, vanquished! Purified and humbled, his eyes filled with
gratitude, he looked up once more and was greeted silently, not by
Theresa, but by his own mother, who stood behind her!
He and Theresa rose and turned towards her, and involuntarily he took
her hands between his own, kissed them, and, sinking upon his knees,
pressed them to his forehead. How much had he not lived through since
that day when he had cast that look of proud defiance across his
father's grave!
* * *
Mansana never got beyond the corridor of that house. When his mother
and Theresa left him, to take farewell of their hostess, he hurried out
before them, secretly anxious to replace a certain key within a gate,
unseen; anxious also to fling from him, to the bottom of the sea, a
revolver, the very thought of which now filled him with shame and
remorse. This act accomplished, he sank down by the roadside,
overwhelmed by emotions in which fear, joy, thankfulness and
self-distrust were all inextricably mingled; and in this position, with
his face buried in his hands, he was discovered by the other two, who,
followed by the servant with the luggage, soon overtook him, on their
way to the railway station. They travelled together, and in a few words
Mansana heard how this meeting had come about. After information which
Sardi had given them, they had sought Luigi, in the belief that he
would know what had become of the Brandinis, and that, sooner or later,
Mansana would be certain to make his way to them. Luigi's valiant
candour had, no doubt, been due to his knowledge that Mansana's mother
and Theresa had already discovered the Brandinis, and were even then
with them.
Mansana listened to all this, but remained speechless still. His
mother, watching him, grew anxious, and pleading her own fatigue as an
excuse, insisted on resting awhile in Naples. She selected for this
purpose an hotel that was in a quiet and secluded part of the town, and
there at last, after much resistance, she succeeded in inducing Mansana
to go to bed. Once asleep it seemed as though he would never wake, and
it was not until late the following day that he at last opened his
eyes. He found himself alone and felt confused and nervous, but a few
small things about the room soon brought Theresa and his mother to his
recollection, and with his thoughts on them, he lay back quietly and
slept like a contented child. This time, however, it was not long
before he was awakened by a feeling of hunger, and this satisfied, he
slept again, almost unintermittently, for several days and nights. When
at last he awoke he was quite calm, but oppressed by a gloomy reserve
and desire to shrink more and more within himself. This was exactly
what his mother had expected.