Randal advanced--"I fear, Signior Riccabocca, that I am guilty of
some want of ceremony."
"To dispense with ceremony is the most delicate mode of conferring
a compliment," replied the urbane Italian, as he recovered from his
first surprise at Randal's sudden address, and extended his hand.
Violante bowed her graceful head to the young man's respectful
salutation. "I am on my way to Hazeldean," resumed Randal, "and,
seeing you in the garden, could not resist this intrusion."
RICCABOCCA.--"You come from London? Stirring times for you English,
but I do not ask you the news. No news can affect us."
RANDAL, (softly.)--"Perhaps--yes."
RICCABOCCA, (startled.)--"How?"
VIOLANTE.--"Surely he speaks of Italy, and news from that country
affects you still, my father."
RICCABOCCA.--"Nay, nay, nothing affects me like this country; its
east winds might affect a pyramid! Draw your mantle round you,
child, and go in; the air has suddenly grown chill."
Violante smiled on her father, glanced uneasily towards Randal's
grave brow, and went slowly towards the house.
Riccabocca, after waiting some moments in silence, as if expecting
Randal to speak, said with affected carelessness, "So you think that
you have news that might affect me? _Corpo di Bacco!_ I am curious
to learn what!"
"I may be mistaken--that depends on your answer to one question. Do
you know the Count of Peschiera?"
Riccabocca winced, and turned pale. He could not baffle the watchful
eye of the questioner.
"Enough," said Randal; "I see that I am right. Believe in my
sincerity. I speak but to warn and to serve you. The Count seeks to
discover the retreat of a countryman and kinsman of his own."
"And for what end?" cried Riccabocca, thrown off his guard, and
his breast dilated, his crest rose, and his eye flashed; valour
and defiance broke from habitual caution and self-control. "But
pooh," he added, striving to regain his ordinary and half-ironical
calm, "it matters not to me. I grant, sir, that I know the Count di
Peschiera; but what has Dr Riccabocca to do with the kinsmen of so
grand a personage?"
"Dr Riccabocca--nothing. But--" here Randal put his lip close to the
Italian's ear, and whispered a brief sentence. Then retreating a
step, but laying his hand on the exile's shoulder, he added--"Need I
say that your secret is safe with me?"
Riccabocca made no answer. His eyes rested on the ground musingly.
Randal continued--"And I shall esteem it the highest honour you can
bestow on me, to be permitted to assist you in forestalling danger."
RICCABOCCA, (slowly.)--"Sir, I thank you; you have my secret, and I
feel assured it is safe, for I speak to an English gentleman. There
may be family reasons why I should avoid the Count di Peschiera;
and, indeed, He is safest from shoals who steers clearest of
his--relations."
The poor Italian regained his caustic smile as he uttered that wise,
villanous Italian maxim.
RANDAL.--"I know little of the Count of Peschiera save from the
current talk of the world. He is said to hold the estates of a
kinsman who took part in a conspiracy against the Austrian power."
RICCABOCCA.--"It is true. Let that content him; what more does he
desire. You spoke of forestalling danger; what danger? I am on the
soil of England, and protected by its laws."
RANDAL.--"Allow me to inquire if, had the kinsman no child, the
Count di Peschiera would be legitimate and natural heir to the
estates he holds?"
RICCABOCCA.--"He would. What then?"
RANDAL.--"Does that thought suggest no danger to the child of the
kinsman?"
Riccabocca recoiled, and gasped forth, "The child! You do not mean
to imply that this man, infamous though he be, can contemplate the
crime of an assassin?"
Randal paused perplexed. His ground was delicate. He knew not what
causes of resentment the exile entertained against the Count. He
knew not whether Riccabocca would not assent to an alliance that
might restore him to his country--and he resolved to feel his way
with precaution.
"I did not," said he, smiling gravely, "mean to insinuate so
horrible a charge against a man whom I have never seen. He seeks
you--that is all I know. I imagine, from his general character, that
in this search he consults his interest. Perhaps all matters might
be conciliated by an interview!"
"An interview!" exclaimed Riccabocca; "there is but one way we
should meet--foot to foot, and hand to hand."
"Is it so? Then you would not listen to the Count if he proposed
some amicable compromise; if, for instance, he was a candidate for
the hand of your daughter?"
The poor Italian, so wise and so subtle in his talk, was as rash and
blind when it came to action, as if he had been born in Ireland, and
nourished on potatoes and Repeal. He bared his whole soul to the
merciless eye of Randal.
"My daughter!" he exclaimed. "Sir, your very question is an insult."
Randal's way became clear at once. "Forgive me," he said mildly;
"I will tell you frankly all that I know. I am acquainted with the
Count's sister. I have some little influence over her. It was she
who informed me that the Count had come here, bent upon discovering
your refuge, and resolved to wed your daughter. This is the danger
of which I spoke. And when I asked your permission to aid in
forestalling it, I only intended to suggest that it might be wise to
find some securer home, and that I, if permitted to know that home,
and to visit you, could apprise you from time to time of the Count's
plans and movements."
"Sir, I thank you sincerely," said Riccabocca with emotion; "but am
I not safe here?"
"I doubt it. Many people have visited the Squire in the shooting
season, who will have heard of you--perhaps seen you, and who are
likely to meet the Count in London. And Frank Hazeldean, too, who
knows the Count's sister--"
"True, true," interrupted Riccabocca. "I see, I see. I will
consider. I will reflect. Meanwhile you are going to Hazeldean.
Do not say a word to the Squire. He knows not the secret you have
discovered."
With those words Riccabocca turned slightly away, and Randal took
the hint to depart.
"At all times command and rely on me," said the young traitor, and
he regained the pale to which he had fastened his horse.
As he remounted, he cast his eyes towards the place where he had
left Riccabocca. The Italian was still standing there. Presently
the form of Jackeymo was seen emerging from the shrubs. Riccabocca
turned hastily round, recognised his servant, uttered an exclamation
loud enough to reach Randal's ear, and then catching Jackeymo by the
arm, disappeared with him amidst the deeper recesses of the garden.
"It will be indeed in my favour," thought Randal as he rode on, "if
I can get them into the neighbourhood of London--all occasion there
to woo, and if expedient, to win--the heiress."