THE SHADOW OF SIGNOR DA CAMIN
I
Donna Fedele arrived in her carriage at ten o'clock. A despairing
note from Leila had brought her the news at nine. She got out at the
entrance to the open verandah in order not to pass the chamber of
death, and Leila came on to the verandah to meet her. They kissed in
silence. Leila's eyes were full of tears, and Donna Fedele looked
ghastly, but she had no tears. They entered the drawing-room, and
Teresina, who happened to be coming in from the dining-room at the
same moment, began sobbing at sight of Donna Fedele, and covered her
face with her handkerchief. When she had succeeded in controlling her
feelings she handed Leila a telegram. While the girl was opening it and
reading it Donna Fedele softly questioned the maid. Had they noticed
anything wrong during the day, or, perhaps, during the evening.
Nothing, nothing. He had not been in good spirits, that she must admit,
but, of course, they all knew that Don Aurelio's flight and Signor
Alberti's departure had upset him. Teresina, whose tongue was now
loosed, evidently had something more to say, but she checked herself,
and fell to sobbing again.
And how had they made the discovery?
It was Leila who answered. Giovanni had gone in with his coffee at
seven and had found him dead. He was sitting up in bed, his shoulders
outside the covers, and his head resting upon the head-board. The
doctor had assured them that death had been instantaneous, for the body
was composed, the face calm, and there had evidently been no attempt
to rise or ring the bell. Death had probably taken place as soon as he
got into bed, and before he had arranged himself for sleep. The lamp
was still burning when Giovanni went in. Teresina now gave further
particulars. Giovanni, who slept on the ground floor, had heard his
master pass his door twice before he, Giovanni, had gone to bed. He had
heard him open the door of the villa on the side towards the mountain,
and early that morning, while putting the dining-room to rights, he
had missed certain plants which the Signorina had placed in two glass
bowls. They had been found later, in ordinary pots, out of doors. No
one in the house knew anything about this change, and it must have been
the master who set them out, that they might enjoy the rain. At this
point the tears welled up in Donna Fedele's eyes, which seemed at the
same time to be smiling with tender emotion.
"You will need help," she said to Leila, controlling her feelings after
a moment's struggle. The girl handed her the telegram that had just
arrived. It was from Signor Marcello's agent, announcing his speedy
arrival from Vicenza with a lawyer.
Donna Fedele inquired if there were any relatives who ought to be
written to. Teresina knew that there were some distant cousins, but the
master had more than once said to her, evidently with a motive, that in
case of his death they were not to be troubled.
Giovanni appeared and summoned the maid, who presently returned to say
that the archpriest and his chaplain wished to know if the Signorina
would receive them. Leila, much annoyed by this intrusion, consulted
Donna Fedele, who advised her to see them.
"Meanwhile," said she, "if I may----"
Leila understood at once, and murmured, "Of course, of course!" Donna
Fedele crossed the billiard-room and study to the chamber of death. On
reaching the study her remarkable fortitude almost forsook her. Only
a few hours ago she had sat here with him. She could see his wrinkled
face--his speaking countenance that was still youthful, his eyes that
so quickly revealed the impulses of his warm heart--and his frank voice
seemed to be still speaking to her. She felt as if he had only just
left the room. The arm-chair behind the writing-table was pushed aside,
upon the table lay an open account-book, and the bedroom door stood
ajar. Donna Fedele pushed it open very slowly and very reverently. Upon
the bed, between two lighted candles, lay her old friend, dressed in
black, and clasping a crucifix in his ivory hands. The gate-keeper's
wife, who was seated opposite the bed, near the window, rose as Donna
Fedele entered. The latter proposed that she should go out for half
an hour. When the woman had left the room Donna Fedele approached
the bed and stood gazing tenderly upon the waxen face of the one man
whom in her youth she had really loved. The sad evening of his long
day had drawn to a close, and at last he was with his loved ones. Had
fate decreed differently for him and for her, had she become his wife,
this parting would have been more terrible. She sighed, almost as if
regretting what might have been. Closing her eyes, she saw him again as
he had been in his youth, and let her mind dwell upon the secret love
of long ago, which had been so sweet even in its bitter and restless
anxieties. Both had been led astray at that time; they had been
over-heedless of a great danger. She more than he, indeed, for had he
but spoken, had he but wished it, she would joyously have sacrificed
everything to him. Her father had been alive then. Good God! if this
had really happened, how horrible it would have been! She stooped
to kiss the ivory hands, and then, sinking upon her knees, prayed
fervently, promising her dead friend that she would be as a mother to
the woman his son had loved, and would seek to bring about the union he
had desired. She rose, consoled. She could hear distinctly the ticking
of his watch on the bedside table. It was as if some part of him still
lived and understood. Many flowers had been strewn upon the bed. She
reflected that another woman in her place would surely take one to
cherish, but she could not bring herself to do so, nor could she tell
what prevented her. Once more she kissed the ivory hands and then the
crucifix, thus setting a seal upon her promise.
II
On leaving the chamber of death she was greatly astonished to find
Leila in the study. The girl was quivering with indignation against the
archpriest and the chaplain, especially against the chaplain. She was
so upset, indeed, that she would not tell her story here, so close to
the peaceful dead. Donna Fedele and she withdrew to the billiard-room.
It appeared that both the archpriest and the chaplain had greatly
deplored Signor Marcello's sudden death, for reasons of a religious
nature, and on her reminding them of the purity of his life, of his
charities, his great piety, and of the fact that he had received the
Sacraments but a few days since, the archpriest had answered coldly,
"We can only hope for the best!" and the chaplain had not opened his
lips.
Then the archpriest had taken the liberty of alluding to the needs
of his church, believing he was addressing an heiress, and at last
the chaplain had asked her, with a great show of humility, if "that
young man" were still at the Montanina. "I said 'Yes,' Leila went
on, "simply because I was so indignant, and they are nothing but
busy-bodies! I am sure they know Alberti is no longer here, for the
archpriest turned red and the chaplain yellow." Had Donna Fedele been
aware that Leila knew of the rumour that had started from the parsonage
concerning Alberti's supposed intrigues in Milan, she would have been
better able to understand her extraordinary indignation, one element
of which escaped the girl's own consciousness. She expressed regret
that she had not done at once what she was now determined to do--to
shut herself up in Signor Marcello's room and not to leave it again
until she was ready to leave the villa. After all, she was no one in
this house. Her duty was to remain with Signor Marcello until the end,
but once Signor Marcello was gone there was no room for her at the
Montanina. Donna Fedele sought to bring Leila to look upon matters in
a different light, but seeing that she was becoming exasperated, she
deemed it wiser not to insist, and so took her leave, saying she would
return in the evening. Leila expressed no pleasure at this promise,
but kissed her in silence, and then withdrew to the death-chamber.
Donna Fedele did not want to leave until she had seen Teresina, but she
was not feeling strong enough to go in search of her. She therefore
rested in a low chair in the drawing-room and waited. At last she heard
Giovanni and the cook talking in the dining-room, and the prudent
footman came to the door to see if they were safe from listeners. So
Donna Fedele was able to send for Teresina and tell her of Leila, who
had insisted upon shutting herself up, and talked of leaving as soon as
the funeral was over.
"I hope she will come to my house," she said, "at least for a time.
But I really don't know what she has taken into her head--whether she
proposes going to her father, or what."
Teresina was unmoved. Go away! Nonsense! She was the heiress. Her
poor master had given Tefesina to understand this most clearly.
Donna Fedele expressed a doubt. What if the girl should refuse the
inheritance? Teresina was startled now. How could she possibly refuse?
If for no other reason she would accept in order to be able to help her
father. And she proceeded to tell of the money she was in the habit
of sending off for the Signorina. Besides, how would the girl herself
get along? "My good woman," said Donna Fedele, "when it is a question
of pride...." But the maid could not understand such pride, and the
Signora did not attempt to explain it to her. She requested Teresina
instead to let her driver know that she was ready to go home. The
servant begged her to remain until the arrival of the agent and the
lawyer, when they would learn something positive concerning the will.
But she could not persuade her. Donna Fedele replied that she did not
wish to intrude, and that she would not return unless she were sent for.
* * * * *
She was not sent for, but towards evening she received the following
letter from her dead friend's agent:
"MADAM,--The maid Teresina Scotz begs me to inform you that this
morning the notary, Signor Dr. Camilli, and I went to the office of the
Royal Prefect of Schio, in whose presence my poor master's holograph
will was opened, it having been in accordance with regulations
deposited by him with the above-named notary. I also take pleasure in
informing you that Signorina Leila Camin is therein appointed sole
legatee, and that the maid, Teresina Scotz, is to be the recipient of a
legacy amounting to five francs per day, exempt from taxation. Signora
Scotz begs me to inform you, further, that a telegram has reached
me from Padua, signed Girolamo da Camin, which contains, besides
expressions of condolence, the declaration that he is Signorina Leila's
father, that she is a minor, and also the announcement of his intended
arrival some time to-day. He will probably come by the last train this
evening. The heiress admits that she is the above-named gentleman's
daughter, and that her twentieth birthday fell only a few months since,
whereas I am aware that my lamented master believed her to be older.
"I am, Madam,
"Your very humble servant,
"MATTEO CAROZZI, _Agent_.
"Val d'Astico (Vicenza), _1 July..._."