Towards the evening, Randal was riding fast on the road to Norwood. The
arrival of Harley, and the conversation that had passed between that
nobleman and Randal, made the latter anxious to ascertain how far
Riccabocca was likely to learn L'Estrange's return to England, and to
meet with him. For he felt that, should the latter come to know that
Riccabocca, in his movements, had gone by Randal's advice. Harley would
find that Randal had spoken to him disingenuously; and on the other hand,
Riccabocca, placed under the friendly protection of Lord L'Estrange,
would no longer need Randal Leslie to defend him from the machinations of
Peschiera. To a reader happily unaccustomed to dive into the deep and
mazy recesses of a schemer's mind, it might seem that Randal's interest
in retaining a hold over the exile's confidence would terminate with the
assurances that had reached him, from more than one quarter, that
Violante might cease to be an heiress if she married himself. "But
perhaps," suggests some candid and youthful conjecturer,--"perhaps Randal
Leslie is in love with this fair creature?" Randal in love!--no! He was
too absorbed by harder passions for that blissful folly. Nor, if he
could have fallen in love, was Violante the one to attract that sullen,
secret heart; her instinctive nobleness, the very stateliness of her
beauty, womanlike though it was, awed him. Men of that kind may love
some soft slave,--they cannot lift their eyes to a queen. They may look
down,--they cannot lookup. But on the one hand, Randal could not resign
altogether the chance of securing a fortune that would realize his most
dazzling dreams, upon the mere assurance, however probable, which had so
dismayed him; and on the other hand, should he be compelled to relinquish
all idea of such alliance, though he did not contemplate the base perfidy
of actually assisting Peschiera's avowed designs, still, if Frank's
marriage with Beatrice should absolutely depend upon her brother's
obtaining the knowledge of Violante's retreat, and that marriage should
be as conducive to his interests as he thought he could make it, why--he
did not then push his deductions further, even to himself,--they seemed
too black; but he sighed heavily, and that sigh foreboded how weak would
be honour and virtue against avarice and ambition. Therefore, on all
accounts, Riccabocca was one of those cards in a sequence, which so
calculating a player would not throw out of his hand: it might serve for
repique, at the worst it might score well in the game. Intimacy with the
Italian was still part and parcel in that knowledge which was the synonym
of power.
While the young man was thus meditating, on his road to Norwood,
Riccabocca and his Jemima were close conferring in their drawing-room.
And if you could have seen them, reader, you would have been seized with
equal surprise and curiosity: for some extraordinary communication had
certainly passed between them. Riccabocca was evidently much agitated,
and with emotions not familiar to him. The tears stood in his eyes at
the same time that a smile, the reverse of cynical or sardonic, curved
his lips; while his wife was leaning her head on his shoulder, her hand
clasped in his, and, by the expression of her face, you might guess that
he had paid her some very gratifying compliment, of a nature more genuine
and sincere than those which characterized his habitual hollow and
dissimulating gallantry. But just at this moment Giacomo entered, and
Jemima, with her native English modesty, withdrew in haste from
Riccabocca's sheltering side.
"Padrone," said Giacomo, who, whatever his astonishment at the connubial
position he had disturbed, was much too discreet to betray it,--"Padrone,
I see the young Englishman riding towards the house, and I hope, when he
arrives, you will not forget the alarming information I gave to you this
morning."
"Ah, ah!" said Riccabocca, his face falling. "If the signorina were but
married!"
"My very thought,--my constant thought!" exclaimed Riccabocca. "And you
really believe the young Englishman loves her?"
"Why else should he come, Excellency?" asked Giacomo, with great naivete.
"Very true; why, indeed?" said Riccabocca. "Jemima, I cannot endure the
terrors I suffer on that poor child's account. I will open myself
frankly to Randal Leslie. And now, too, that which might have been a
serious consideration, in case I return to Italy, will no longer stand in
our way, Jemima."
Jemima smiled faintly, and whispered something to Riccabocca, to which he
replied,
"Nonsense, anima mia. I know it will be,--have not a doubt of it.
I tell you it is as nine to four, according to the nicest calculations.
I will speak at once to Randal. He is too young, too timid to speak
himself."
"Certainly," interposed Giacomo; "how could he dare to speak, let him
love ever so well?"
Jemima shook her head.
"Oh, never fear," said Riccabocca, observing this gesture; "I will give
him the trial. If he entertain but mercenary views, I shall soon detect
them. I know human nature pretty well, I think, my love; and, Giacomo,
just get me my Machiavelli;--that's right. Now leave me, my dear; I must
reflect and prepare myself."
When Randal entered the house, Giacomo, with a smile of peculiar suavity,
ushered him into the drawing-room. He found Riccabocca alone, and seated
before the fireplace, leaning his face on his hand, with the great folio
of Machiavelli lying open on the table.
The Italian received him as courteously as usual; but there was in his
manner a certain serious and thoughtful dignity, which was perhaps the
more imposing, because but rarely assumed. After a few preliminary
observations, Randal remarked that Frank Hazeldean had informed him of
the curiosity which the disappearance of the Riccaboccas had excited at
the Hall, and inquired carelessly if the doctor had left instructions as
to the forwarding of any letters that might be directed to him at the
Casino.
"Letters!" said Riccabocca, simply; "I never receive any; or, at least,
so rarely, that it was not worth while to take an event so little to be
expected into consideration. No; if any letters do reach the Casino,
there they will wait."
"Then I can see no possibility of indiscretion; no chance of a clew to
your address."
"Nor I either."
Satisfied so far, and knowing that it was not in Riecabocca's habits to
read the newspapers, by which he might otherwise have learned of
L'Estrange's arrival in London, Randal then proceeded to inquire, with
much seeming interest, into the health of Violante,--hoped it did not
suffer by confinement, etc. Riccabocca eyed him gravely while he spoke,
and then suddenly rising, that air of dignity to which I have before
referred became yet more striking.
"My young friend," said he, "hear me attentively, and answer me frankly.
I know human nature--" Here a slight smile of proud complacency passed
the sage's lips, and his eye glanced towards his Machiavelli.
"I know human nature,--at least I have studied it," he renewed more
earnestly, and with less evident self-conceit; "and I believe that when
a perfect stranger to me exhibits an interest in my affairs, which
occasions him no small trouble,--an interest," continued the wise man,
laying his hand on Randal's shoulder, "which scarcely a son could exceed,
he must be under the influence of some strong personal motive."
"Oh, sir!" cried Randal, turning a shade more pale, and with a faltering
tone. Riccabocca, surveyed him with the tenderness of a superior being,
and pursued his deductive theories.
"In your case, what is that motive? Not political; for I conclude you
share the opinions of your government, and those opinions have not
favoured mine. Not that of pecuniary or ambitious calculations; for how
can such calculations enlist you on behalf of a ruined exile? What
remains? Why, the motive which at your age is ever the most natural and
the strongest. I don't blame you. Machiavelli himself allows that such
a motive has swayed the wisest minds, and overturned the most solid
States. In a word, young man, you are in love, and with my daughter
Violante."
Randal was so startled by this direct and unexpected charge upon his own
masked batteries, that he did not even attempt his defence. His head
drooped on his breast, and he remained speechless.
"I do not doubt," resumed the penetrating judge of human nature, "that
you would have been withheld by the laudable and generous scruples which
characterize your happy age, from voluntarily disclosing to me the state
of your heart. You might suppose that, proud of the position I once
held, or sanguine in the hope of regaining my inheritance, I might be
over-ambitious in my matrimonial views for Violante; or that you,
anticipating my restoration to honours and fortune, might seem actuated
by the last motives which influence love and youth; and, therefore, my
dear young friend, I have departed from the ordinary custom in England,
and adopted a very common one in my own country. With us, a suitor
seldom presents himself till he is assured of the consent of a father.
I have only to say this,--if I am right, and you love my daughter, my
first object in life is to see her safe and secure; and, in a word--you
understand me."
Now, mightily may it comfort and console us ordinary mortals, who advance
no pretence to superior wisdom and ability, to see the huge mistakes made
by both these very sagacious personages,--Dr. Riccabocca, valuing himself
on his profound acquaintance with character, and Randal Leslie,
accustomed to grope into every hole and corner of thought and action,
wherefrom to extract that knowledge which is power! For whereas the
sage, judging not only by his own heart in youth, but by the general
influence of the master passion on the young, had ascribed to Randal
sentiments wholly foreign to that able diplomatist's nature, so no sooner
had Riccabocca brought his speech to a close, than Randal, judging also
by his own heart, and by the general laws which influence men of the
mature age and boasted worldly wisdom of the pupil of Machiavelli,
instantly decided that Riccabocca presumed upon his youth and
inexperience, and meant most nefariously to take him in.
"The poor youth!" thought Riccabocca, "how unprepared he is for the
happiness I give him!"
"The cunning old Jesuit!" thought Randal; "he has certainly learned,
since we met last, that he has no chance of regaining his patrimony, and
so he wants to impose on me the hand of a girl without a shilling. What
other motive can he possibly have? Had his daughter the remotest
probability of becoming the greatest heiress in Italy, would he dream of
bestowing her on me in this off-hand way? The thing stands to reason."
Actuated by his resentment at the trap thus laid for him, Randal was
about to disclaim altogether the disinterested and absurd affection
laid to his charge, when it occurred to him that, by so doing, he might
mortally offend the Italian, since the cunning never forgive those who
refuse to be duped by them,--and it might still be conducive to his
interest to preserve intimate and familiar terms with Riccabocca;
therefore, subduing his first impulse, he exclaimed,
"Oh, too generous man! pardon me if I have so long been unable to express
my amaze, my gratitude; but I cannot--no, I cannot, while your prospects
remain thus uncertain, avail myself of your--of your inconsiderate
magnanimity. Your rare conduct can only redouble my own scruples, if
you, as I firmly hope and believe, are restored to your great
possessions--you would naturally look so much higher than me. Should
these hopes fail, then, indeed, it may be different; yet even then, what
position, what fortune, have I to offer to your daughter worthy of her?"
"You are well born! all gentlemen are equals," said Riccabocca, with a
sort of easy nobleness. "You have youth, information, talent,--sources
of certain wealth in this happy country,--powerful connections; and, in
fine, if you are satisfied with marrying for love, I shall be contented;
if not, speak openly. As to the restoration to my possessions, I can
scarcely think that probable while my enemy lives. And even in that
case, since I saw you last, something has occurred," added Riccabocca,
with a strange smile, which seemed to Randal singularly sinister and
malignant, "that may remove all difficulties. Meanwhile, do not think me
so extravagantly magnanimous; do not underrate the satisfaction I must
feel at knowing Violante safe from the designs of Peschiera,--safe, and
forever, under a husband's roof. I will tell you an Italian proverb,--it
contains a truth full of wisdom and terror,
"'Hai cinquanta Amici?--non basta. Hai un Nemico?--e troppo.'"
["Have you fifty friends?--it is not enough. Have you one enemy?--it is
too much."]
"Something has occurred!" echoed Randal, not heeding the conclusion of
this speech, and scarcely hearing the proverb, which the sage delivered
in his most emphatic and tragic tone. "Something has occurred! My dear
friend, be plainer. What has occurred?" Riccabocca remained silent.
"Something that induces you to bestow your daughter on me?" Riccabocca
nodded, and emitted a low chuckle.
"The very laugh of a fiend," muttered Randal. "Something that makes her
not worth bestowing. He betrays himself. Cunning people always do."
"Pardon me," said the Italian, at last, "if I don't answer your question;
you will know later; but at present this is a family secret. And now I
must turn to another and more alarming cause for my frankness to you."
Here Riccabocca's face changed, and assumed an expression of mingled rage
and fear. "You must know," he added, sinking his voice, "that Giacomo
has seen a strange person loitering about the house, and looking up at
the windows; and he has no doubt--nor have I--that this is some spy or
emissary of Peschiera's."
"Impossible; how could he discover you?"
"I know not; but no one else has any interest in doing so. The man kept
at a distance, and Giacomo could not see his face."
"It may be but a mere idler. Is this all?"
"No; the old woman who serves us said that she was asked at a shop 'if we
were not Italians'?"
"And she answered?"
"'No;' but owned that 'we had a foreign servant, Giacomo.'"
"I will see to this. Rely on it that if Peschiera has discovered you, I
will learn it. Nay, I will hasten from you in order to commence
inquiry."
"I cannot detain you. May I think that we have now an interest in
common?"
"Oh, indeed yes; but--but--your daughter! How can I dream that one so
beautiful, so peerless, will confirm the hope you have extended to me?"
"The daughter of an Italian is brought up to consider that it is a
father's right to dispose of her hand."
"But the heart?"
"/Cospetto!/" said the Italian, true to his infamous notions as to the
sex, "the heart of a girl is like a convent,--the holier the cloister,
the more charitable the door."