CHAPTER VII

I AM MISCONCEIVED AT THE HOSPITAL

I am conscious that the reader may find much to condemn in my last

chapter. He may think my schemes chimerical, my methods undisciplined;

he may say that I am perverse. I shall only urge in defence of what I

did that I deeply loved, and had deeply injured, the lovely Aurelia. She

had departed from me in misunderstanding and anger; she did not believe

in my devotion, she could not understand my behaviour. Was it

surprising, then, if I felt that I must find her at all costs? Was it

wonderful that I wished her to know of my repentance, or that I wished

to repair my wrong-doings? For eight months I had enjoyed daily and

hourly communion with her--and I don't pretend to say that the horrible

loss of that had a good deal to do with my precipitate departure, any

more than that the hope of finding her was what gave the spring to my

feet and brought back the young blood to my heart. No pilgrim to Loretto

or Compostella more longingly set his eyes to where he believed his

hopes to lie than did I watch for the first sign of the Apennines, which

barred my way to Siena. Having thus briefly defended myself against

misconception, I shall say no more on that head.

After my first night under the stars--wondrous night of wakefulness and

hopeful music, throughout which I lay entranced at the foot of a wooded

hill and was never for a moment uncompanioned by nightingale, cicala and

firefly--I began to suffer from footsoreness, a bodily affliction

against which romance, that certain salve for the maladies of the soul,

is no remedy, or very little. Crossing the hills, over burning roads,

through thorny brakes or by slopes of harsh grass, my heels and the

balls of my toes became alarmingly inflamed; and an acacia-spine,

lodging in the sole of one foot, made matters no better. That second day

of mine I could barely hobble twelve miles, and nothing but resolution

could do that much for me. The night came and found me ill; I slept not;

though I had provided myself with food, I could not touch it. Luckily, I

was discovered by some shepherd boys early in the morning and directed

to the town of Rovigo at some half a league's distance, where they said

there was a hospital.

Seeing that my foot was now so bad that the touch of a hand upon it was

torment, I think it had gone hard with me if Rovigo had stood another

half-league away. I shall not readily forget the noble charity of one of

those boys, who, seeing the inflammation set up by the thorn in my foot,

ripped off the sleeve of his shirt and bound it round the instep--my

first experience of the magnanimity of the poor, but by no means my

last.

I limped into Rovigo and learned the direction of the hospital, at whose

gate I was kept with a sorry crew of wretches for a mortal hour while

the brother-in-charge finished his siesta.

Two friars, a soldier disguised in drink, a young Jew, and myself

completed the company, which was allowed to make itself free of a

flagged and whitewashed hall, absolutely devoid of furniture, and

smelling at once sour and stale. I am sorry and ashamed to remember that

the Jew was the only person of my four fellows in misfortune who kept up

any semblance of manners or proper reserve. He differed, indeed,

markedly from the others, not only in his behaviour, which was at least

conformable, but in his appearance of alacrity and cheerful health.

Seeing that I suffered as much from the ribaldry of my fellow-guests as

from my bodily pains, he came and sat by my side, and encouraged me with

the assurance that it was far better to wait for the brother-in-charge

to awake in the course of nature than to disturb him out of his sleep.

"Mighty little chance for me, for example," he said, "if Brother

Hyacinth don't have his nap to the full. He'll be as savage as a starved

wolf, understand, and will send a man to hell sooner than to admit him

if he have a good foot left to take him there."

"Why, then," said I, "he will never send me for sure, for I have no

feet."

"Be not so sure, dear sir," returned the Jew. "You don't know Brother

Hyacinth as well as I do. There was a fellow came here on a day all

spent and bleeding. He had lost a toe under a coach-wheel. If you will

believe it, this dear host of ours bade him go walk on his hands, and

offered him the cloister to get perfect in. Now, with me, I know it will

go hard, unless those fools cease their din." The two friars had been

dicing with the soldier, and had won his boots. Each had taken one from

him, and were now wrangling who should have both. I was struck by the

sinister expression of one of them, a Capuchin of great strength, with a

long white beard. More than enough of him in due course. I told the Jew

that my case was so bad I cared not greatly whether I was received or

no. A man, I said, could die anywhere. "Why, yes," he said, "so he can--

and live anywhere also. One is as easy as the other, if you but give

your mind to it. But one thing I will tell you," he added, "it is not so

easy as you might think to live cheaply when you have the means of

living dear. I shall be lucky if I spend this night as I desire--but you

will see. Hush! here is our man." I had been about to ask him what was

his malady, for he appeared to me the picture of health, and shining

with it; but just then a square-headed religious, with small angry eyes

and prominent bones, came into the hall, attended by a clerk, a sleek

young fellow, who called out "Silence," and was instantly obeyed. The

two friars were on their knees in a trice, and chattering their Hail

Marys; the soldier, after some efforts to rise, had managed to lift

himself by the wall, and, being propped up against it, was saluting all

and sundry with great impartiality. The Jew only was good enough to help

me with the support of his arm.

His was the first case. "Your name?" said Brother Hyacinth, and was

answered "Giovanni-Battista-Maria-Bentivoglio."

"Write," said Brother Hyacinth to his clerk, "Jew, name unknown, active

liar." This done, he continued his questions.

"Your means?"

"Alas, none," replied the Jew.

"Search him," said Brother Hyacinth.

The clerk thereupon turned out his pockets, which were empty of

everything but holes. Not content with that, however, he felt all over

his body, and when he had, as I may say, drawn all the coverts blank,

knelt down and pulled off the man's shoes. The Jew was unable to repress

an exclamation, which I naturally set down to his disgust at the

indignity. But I found that this was not so. The clerk very neatly

picked out a small key from between his toes and held it up to his

master.

"I thought as much," said Brother Hyacinth. "Go." The young Jew sighed,

shrugged, and stood back without a word; and while I was considering

what his imposture could have been it was my turn.

Brother Hyacinth examined me with keen displeasure. "Who are you?" he

asked me. I told him "Francesco-Antonio Strelli"--and he bade the clerk

write these names down. "Nationality?" he asked next. I told him

"Inglese." One of the friars, that evil, bearded fellow, I noticed, had

drawn near and was listening with all his might. Now it was to be

noticed of him that he breathed very short and fast, and that his breath

struck like fire upon my skin. The interrogatory was renewed.

"Your place of immediate origin?" I was asked.

I said, "Padua."

"Your present occupation?"

"Repentance," I said, and spoke the truth.

"Your means of support?"

"Grace," said I, and he stamped on the ground.

"You are trifling with me--I advise you to take care. Answer me

truthfully of what you repent."

This angered me. I told him shortly that, like everybody else in the

world of my way of thinking, I repented of sin.

He turned to his amanuensis. "Write down that the young man refuses to

give an account of himself," he said harshly; and then asked me what I

wanted of the hospital.

I said with heat, "My brother, I had required of it what I now see I am

not to expect, charity, namely, both of judgment and act. I am

afflicted, as you ought to have seen at once; I need your wisdom--but

need most your sympathy--" To my amazement he cut me short, as he had

done with the Jew, by the brief command, "Search him." I recoiled as

well as I could in my fainting and helpless condition.

"Do you dare insult a sick man?" I cried; and to the clerk, who was

about to put me to this indignity, I said, "Touch me at your peril, sir;

for though I die for it, you will pay for your temerity."

The Jew, who had been looking on at my examination (quite unabashed at

the mortification of his own), here interposed by telling me that the

thing was a common form and must be gone through with. I was about to

shake him off for his impertinence when a chance phrase of his, "free

lodging," enlightened me. This, then, was not what I understood by a

hospital--using the applied sense of the word--but one of those original

institutions, so-called, which were, of course, guest-houses for the

poor. The moment I understood that, I saw that I and Brother Hyacinth

had been at cross-purposes. I pulled out my handful of money and spilled

some pieces upon the floor. Instantly the great friar behind me clapped

his foot upon them. The Jew hunted down the rest.

Brother Hyacinth now recoiled. "What does this mean?" he asked. "Are you

a fool, or a thief, or an impudent rascal?"

"You are mistaken," I replied, "I am none; but it is clear that I have

deceived you. Had I understood the real objects of your hospital--which,

I am compelled to add, you have most successfully concealed--I should

not have been before you. I am ill and in great pain. I supposed that

you could give me assistance. And even now, should that be possible, I

would accept it, and pay for it." Brother Hyacinth, with keen

displeasure, said that mine was a case for the police, and that, while

he should decline my money, he was minded to detain my person for their

consideration; but the Jew thereupon broke in with more assurance than I

should have thought him capable of. "Your pardon, very reverend," he

said, "but this is a case for the best physician in Rovigo, and the best

bed in the best inn. This gentleman, as I knew very well from the first,

is acting for a wager. Only your astuteness has prevented him from

winning it. He has failed, but not by much; it is an honourable defeat.

He very willingly bestows upon you two ducats for the beneficent

purposes of the hospital--those very two, in fact, which the reverend

frate behind him has covered with his foot. With the others he will

return to his noble parents, being furnished with a certificate from

your reverence to the effect that he has failed in his endeavour."

The clerk, who had by this time extracted the two pieces from beneath

the foot of the Capuchin (who loudly denied that they were there), was

now whispering with Brother Hyacinth. After a short time he drew me

apart and told me that but for him I should certainly be sent to prison.

The brother-in-charge, he said, believed me to be a highway thief--or

professed that he did--against all reason; for said the clerk, "As I

told his reverence, if your honour had been a thief it is very unlikely

that we should have had the pleasure of your company at the hospital.

His reverence has made difficulties--it has been hard to convince him,

though your honour's generosity to the hospital has not been without

effect. I flatter myself that my arguments have been useful. Any further

service I can do your honour, I shall very thankfully undertake."

I expressed myself obliged to him, and added that though it might be

very true that I deserved prison, I had other acts of penitence in view

which could only be properly performed in Tuscany. I said, "You would be

justified--if you knew the whole of my history--in declining what I

nevertheless urge upon your benevolence--this crown-piece namely---" He

assured me that no crime of mine, however unnatural, could cause him a

momentary scruple, took the coin, spat upon it, pocketed it, and said

that he was my servant and orator to the end of time. At this moment the

great Capuchin--he of the covering foot--took me by the arm and begged

the favour of a word in my ear. He was a hideous villain, broad-

shouldered, scarred, hugely bearded, and had a prominent tooth in his

lower jaw, rather loose, which stuck out like a tusk. I have spoken of

his breath, which was as the blast of a furnace.

"I see," he said with an odious leer, "that you are a game-cock. I knew

you by your ruffle. It was gallantly tried, and nearly successful. I

like your spirit much. Come with me, and you shall not fail again. You

and I will take the road together, live at our ease, and live for

nothing, and brave it with the best notwithstanding. What do you say?

Shall we shake hands upon it?" Monster that he was, as he hovered over

me there, grinning, moving his tooth, he inspired me with loathing. I

felt the blood tingle in my cheek.

"Better a Jew than a thieving renegade," says I. "That is my answer to

you. Go in peace."

He said, "As you will," and turned to his affairs. I left the hospital

with the benevolent Jew, whose name was Issachar.

The Fool Errant Being the Memoirs of Francis-Anthony Strelley, Esq., Citizen of Lucca · 第 7 / 48 章