Signor Giovacchino Fortini at Home
The Baron Manutoli was Ludovico di Castelmare's very good friend. But
there are two sorts of friends--friends who show their friendship by
wishing, and endeavouring to obtain for us, what we wish for ourselves;
and friends, whose friendship consists in wishing for us things
analogous to what they wish for themselves;--who endeavour to procure
for us, not what we wish, but what they consider to be good for us.
Now the Baron Manutoli belonged to the latter of these two categories.
He was some years older than Ludovico; had been a married man, and was
now a widower with one little boy,--the future Baron Manutoli; and
considered himself as having been blessed with a supreme and exceptional
degree of good fortune, with regard to all that appertained to that
difficult and often disastrous chapter of human destinies which concerns
the relations of mankind with the other sex. Happiness and advantages,
ordinarily incompatible and exclusive of each other, had in his case by
a kind destiny been made compatible. For the representative of an old
noble family to remain single, was bad in many points of view. But on
the other hand--when one's ancestral acres are not so extensive as they
once were, and in nowise more productive--when one likes a quiet life
enlivened by a moderate degree of bachelor's liberty,--when one sees the
interiors of divers of one's contemporaries and friends,--when one
thinks of mothers-in-law, and sisters-in-law, and a whole ramified
family-in-law!--the Baron Manutoli, though he had grieved over the loss
of his young wife when the loss was recent, was now, after some ten
years of widower's life, inclined to think that of the man, who had a
legitimately born son to inherit his name and estate, who had done his
duty towards society by taking a wife, and who was yet enabled to enjoy
all the ease and freedom from care of a bachelor's life, it might be
said, "Omne tulit punctum."
Far as he was from undervaluing the importance of the social duties of a
man and a nobleman in respect to these matters, he had always been an
earnest advocate of the marriage which Ludovico was expected to make
with the Contessa Violante; and had regarded poor Paolina, from the
first, as an intruder and disastrous mischief-maker; and Ludovico's love
for her as the unlucky caprice of a boy, respecting which, the evident
duty of all friends was to do all they could to discourage it, put it
down, and get rid of it.
So that in the matter of the commission which Ludovico had entrusted to
him, the Baron was likely enough to have somewhat different views from
those of his friend.
What a happy turning of misfortune into a blessing it would be, if this
shocking affair should be the means of getting rid of this unlucky
Paolina altogether! Not, of course, that the Baron was capable of
wishing that such getting rid of should be accomplished by the unjust
condemnation of the poor girl for such a crime. God forbid! But, if
there should be found to be a sufficient degree of suspicion--of
unexplainable mystery--to cause the exoneration of Ludovico, and at the
same time, an intimation to the Venetian stranger that she would do well
to remove herself from the happy territory of the Holy Father, what a
Godsend it would be!
Then, again, as to the real fact of Paolina's innocence, Manutoli was
seriously disposed to think that there might be grounds for considerable
doubt. Ludovico's assertions to that effect were of course unworthy of
the slightest attention; the mere ravings of a man in love. Of course,
also, the menace he held out, that if any attempt were made to throw the
onus of the crime on Paolina, he would meet it by avowing himself
guilty, was as entirely to be disregarded. The paramount business in
hand was to clear his friend of this untoward complication in the matter
of the crime which had so mysteriously been committed. The next
consideration was to set him equally free from his entanglement with
Paolina. And with these thoughts in his mind, the Baron decided that,
upon the whole, it would be better that he should have an interview with
lawyer Fortini, before making his visit to the lady.
He knew that it was too late to look for the lawyer at his "studio;" and
therefore went directly to his residence, where he found the old
gentleman just concluding his solitary supper. Being the evening of Ash
Wednesday, the meal had consisted of a couple of eggs, and a morsel of
tunny fish preserved in oil, very far from a bad relish for a flask of
good wine. And the lawyer was, when Manutoli came in, aiding his
meditations by discussing the remaining half of a small cobwebbed bottle
of the very choicest growth of the Piedmontese hills.
"I owe you a thousand apologies, Signor Fortini, for coming to trouble
you with business, and very disagreeable business too, here and at such
an hour," began the Baron; "but the interest we all feel--"
"Not a word of apology is needed, Signor Barone. About this shocking
affair in the Pineta, of course, of course? Pur troppo, we are all
interested, as you say. Will you honour my poor house, Signor Barone, by
tasting what there is in the cellar? I ought to be ashamed to offer this
wine, my ordinary drink at supper, to the Barone Manutoli"--(the old
fellow knew right well that there was not such another glass of wine in
all the city, and that it was rarely enough that his noble guest drank
such)--"but it is drinkable." And so saying, he called to his old
housekeeper to bring another bottle and a fresh glass before he would
allow Manutoli to say a word on the business that brought him there.
"And now, Signor Barone," said the old lawyer, as soon as the wine and
the praise it merited, had been both duly savoured, "about this bad
business? Do you bring me any information? Information is all we want. I
hope and trust information is all we want," he repeated, looking hard at
the Baron.
"Of course, that is all we want; information which should put us on some
clue to the real perpetrator of this crime."
"That is what we want; that is the one thing needful; and it is
absolutely needful," said the lawyer, again looking meaningly in his
companion's face.
"Of course that is what we want. But even supposing no light upon the
matter can be got at all, it is not to be supposed that--that any judge
would consider there was sufficient ground for assuming our friend to be
guilty?"
"Ah, that's just the point; just the point of the difficulty. We must
not expect, Signor Barone, that the judges will look at the question
quite with the same eyes that we do. They will have none of the strong
persuasion that we--ahem!--that the Marchese Ludovico's friends
have--that he is wholly incapable of committing such a crime. On the
other hand, they are men used to suspicion, and to the habit of
considering a certain amount of suspicion as equivalent to moral
certainty. And I confess--I must confess, my dear sir, that I am very
far from easy as to the result, if we should be unable to find at least
some counterbalancing possibilities, you understand?"
"But it seems to me, Signor, that such are already found; and it was
just upon this point that I was anxious to speak with you to-night. I
have just seen Ludovico. He sent for me to the Circolo. And what he
mainly wanted was to bid me go to the Signorina Paolina Foscarelli, in
order to prepare her for the probability of her own arrest, and to
comfort her with the assurance that no evil could come to her. Also I
was directed by him to tell you, that any attempt to fix the guilt of
this deed on the girl, would be met by an avowal--a false avowal, of
course--that he is himself the guilty person."
"Ta, ta, ta, ta! Mere stuff, chatter, the talk of a boy in love with a
pretty girl," said the lawyer.
"Just so, just so. Of course we pay no attention to all that. I promised
to go to the girl as he told me; and I shall do so presently. But I
thought it best to see you first. The fact is, Signor Fortini, that I do
not feel any one bit of the certainty that he professes to feel, that
this Venetian girl may not have been the real assassin."
The lawyer looked shrewdly into Manutoli's face, and nodded his head
slowly three or four times. "What would there be so unlikely in it,"
pursued Manutoli; "girls, and Venetian girls too, have done as much and
more before now? We know that she is in love with him. She sees him
going on such an expedition as that with such a girl as La Bianca. She
has already, no doubt, had cause to be jealous of her. Ludovico used to
see the Lalli frequently. What is more likely?"
"Stay, Signor Barone, one minute. This is an important point; you say
that this Paolina saw her lover with La Bianca. How do you know that?
and how did it come about?"
"Ludovico just told me so; and the girl, it seems, herself told him. Her
story is that she went out to St. Apollinare at an early hour this
morning to look after a scaffolding or some preparation of some kind
that had been made for her to copy some of the mosaics in the church;
and that from a window of the church, being on the scaffolding, she saw
Ludovico and La Bianca driving by in a bagarino. Now all this probably
is true enough. The question is, What did she do then, when she saw what
was so well calculated to throw her into a frenzy of jealousy? My theory
is, that she followed them into the forest, dogged their steps, and
finding her opportunity at the unlucky moment when Ludovico left Bianca
sleeping, did the murder there and then."
The old lawyer started up from his seat, and thrusting his hands into
the pockets of his trousers took a hasty turn across the room; and then
resuming his seat, tossed off a glass of wine before making any reply.
"And a very good theory too, Signor Barone. I make you my compliment on
it," he said at last. "I was not aware of all the facts, the very,
important facts, you mention. I had ascertained that this Venetian girl
left the city by the Porta Nuova at a strangely early hour this morning;
and that was enough already, to fix my eye upon her. But what you now
tell me is much more important; advances the case against her to a far
more serious point. Upon my word," continued the lawyer, after a pause
for further meditation; "upon my word I begin to think that it is the
most likely view of the case that this Signorina Paolina Foscarelli has
been the assassin. At all events it seems quite as likely a theory as
that the Marchese should have done it. Fully as likely," added the
lawyer, rubbing his hands cheerily; "the motive, as motives to such
deeds go, is quite as great in her case as in his. Greater, or at least
more probable! Jealousy has moved to such acts more frequently than mere
considerations of interest."
"To be sure it has," cried Manutoli; "I think that the circumstances
bear more conclusively against her than against him; I do, upon my
life."
"If only something do not turn up to show that it could not have been
done by her, I think--I do think that we have got all that is absolutely
necessary for us. For observe, Signor Barone, it is not necessary that
she should be convicted. If there is such a probability that she may
have been the criminal as to make it impossible to say that it is far
more likely that one of the parties suspected should be guilty than the
other, there can be no conviction, and our friend is safe."
"But I say that all the probabilities are in favour of the hypothesis
that she did the deed," cried Manutoli, warmly.
"Much will depend on the report of Tomosarchi," said the lawyer. "The
inquiry arises, how far it was possible for a young girl to do that
which was done."
"It is evident that she was murdered in her sleep," observed the Baron.
"It looks like it; it seems clear that there could have been no struggle
of any sort. Still, we must hear how the murder was done; we must know
whether the means were such as might have been in the power of this
girl," rejoined Fortini.
"Well, we shall know all that to-morrow. God grant that the Professor's
report may be a favourable one," said Manutoli, thinking little of the
savageness of his wish as regarded the poor artist. But, to the mind of
the Baron, it was a question between one who was a fellow-creature of
his own, and one who could hardly be considered such. How was it
possible to put in comparison for a moment the consideration of a
fellow-noble of his own city and that of a poor unknown foreign artist?
"I trust it may; I build much on the fact that there was no struggle.
She was put to death by some means which scarcely allowed her time to
wake from the sleep," returned the lawyer. "You are going, then, now,
Signor Barone, to see this Paolina?"
"Yes; if I find her still up, which I suppose I shall, for it is not
late," said Manutoli, looking at his watch.
"Better be a little cautious in speaking to her, you know; best to avoid
alarming her," said Fortini.
"The express object of my visit to her is to prevent her from being
alarmed," rejoined the Baron.
"Yes; but--what I mean is that--it would be desirable, you see, to lead
her to speak. What we want now is to know exactly what she did and where
she went after seeing the Marchesino and La Bianca in the bagarino
together. Also to ascertain whether she was seen by anybody to do
whatever she did or to go wherever it was she went. And, I think, that
you might very probably learn this from her more effectually than I
should. She would be more likely to be on her guard with me, you see."
"I'll try what I can do; my real belief is that she is the guilty
person," said Manutoli.
"To-morrow I will see what I can do at St. Apollinare. She cannot have
been in the church without seeing and speaking to somebody. There are a
Capucin and a lay-brother always there, I take it; we shall see what
they can tell us. But I can't go out there till after the medical
examination. I have arranged with my old friend Tomosarchi to be present
at it," said the lawyer.
"I shall be most anxious to hear the result," said the Baron.
"If you will be here about ten o'clock--my breakfast hour--I shall be
able to tell you."
"Thanks. A rivederci dunque--"
"Stay; one more word before you go, Signor Barone. As we are both
engaged in this inquiry, and both interested on the same side, I may as
well tell you, perhaps, that there is one other person to whom my
attention has been drawn as being open to suspicion in this matter--the
Conte Leandro Lombardoni."
"The Conte Leandro! You don't say so! Impossible!"
"Just listen one moment, Signor Barone. It is certain that the Conte
Leandro passed out of the city by the Porta Nuova at a very early hour
this morning--at an earlier hour than either the girl Paolina or the
Marchesino and La Bianca."
"The Conte Leandro--out of the Porta Nuova--at such an hour in the
morning. For what possible purpose?"
"Ay, that is the question. For what possible purpose? But the fact is
certain. Though endeavouring to conceal himself by means of his cloak,
he was perfectly well recognized by the men at the gate. For what
possible purpose? No doubt you know, Signor Barone, much better than I,
who am not much in the way of hearing of such things--unless in cases
where I make it my business to hear of them, you understand, Signor
Barone,--you, no doubt, know that the Signor Conte has been besieging,
as I may say, this poor Lalli woman with his attentions and verses ever
since she came here; also, that the lady would have nothing to say to
him or to his verses--that she has, in short, snubbed him and mortified
his vanity in the sight of all the town during the whole of the past
Carnival."
"That is true--it is all true," cried Manutoli, eagerly, and looking
almost scared by the ideas the lawyer was presenting to his mind. "It is
even truer, than you, perhaps, are aware of. She said sneering and
cutting things of him in his hearing both at the Marchese Lamberto's
ball and at the Circolo ball; I happen to know it."
"Hey--y--y--y?" said the lawyer, uttering a sound like a long sigh, with
a question stop at the end of it; and then thrusting out his lips and
nodding his head up and down slowly while he plunged his hands into the
pockets of his trowsers. "I'll tell you what it is Signor Barone," the
old man added, after a pause of deep thought, "I was anxious to find
such plausible grounds of suspicion against other parties, such element
of doubt, such possibilities as might make it difficult for the judges
to condemn our friend. I wanted to puzzle the court; but, per Bacco! I
have puzzled myself. This afternoon, I confess to you, I had little
doubt but that the Marchesino had, in a fatal moment of anger and
desperation, committed the crime. But, upon my word now, I know not what
to think. Here we have three parties, each of whom we know to have been
acted on by one of three strong passions. We have jealousy, and wounded
vanity. Which of the three has done the deed?"
"It is an extraordinary circumstance," said the Baron Manutoli, "that
they were jeering at the Conte Leandro at the Circolo just now, about
the way the Diva had snubbed him and his verses, and accusing him in
joke of having been her murderer. And, as sure as I am now speaking to
you, Signor Fortini, he looked in a way then that I--a--a--in short that
I thought very odd--turned all sorts of colours. But then, you know, he
is always such an unwholesome-looking animal."
"One of the vainest men I ever met with," said the lawyer, musing.
"Oh--for vanity--I believe you. Leandro has not his equal for vanity."
"And strong vanity, deeply wounded, by a woman too, will breed a hate as
violent and vicious, perhaps, as any passion that ever prompted a
crime," rejoined the lawyer, still meditating deeply. "Per Dio Santo!"
he exclaimed, after a pause of silence, striking his open palm strongly
on the table, as he spoke, and speaking with a sort of solemn
earnestness, "I am inclined to think, after all, that he is the man. The
Marchesino," he went on again, thoughtfully, "went out for a
frolic--intelligible enough; The girl went out to look after the
preparations for her work--again quite plausible. But in the name of all
the saints what took the Conte Leandro out of the Porta Nuova at that
hour of the morning, after passing the night at a ball?"
"I still think that the Venetian girl has done the deed," said Manutoli,
whose opinion was no doubt in some degree warped by his desire that the
criminal should turn out to be a foreign plebeian rather than a Ravenna
noble. "After all Leandro is not the man to do such a deed. He is such a
poor creature. Besides, it seems to me that the girl's motive for hate
was the stronger. I don't know that wounded vanity has had many such
crimes to answer for, whereas jealousy--and such a jealousy--why, it is
an old story you know."
"Well, we shall see. Any way, I am very much more easy as to the result.
Short of such evidence as it seems very highly unlikely should be
forthcoming, I do not think that there can be any conviction at all. It
is most extraordinary that in the case of such deed, done in such a
place, at such a time, there should be so many persons so fairly liable
to strong suspicion."
"Of course, to produce the result we wish, a case must be set up against
Leandro?" said the Baron.
"Of course. Leave that to me, or rather to the police. No doubt their
inquiries have already put them on his track. The fact of his having
gone out of the city by that gate, at that hour, is quite enough."
"And now I must be off to see this Signorina Foscarelli. I don't half
like the job."
"I daresay you will find her easy enough," said the lawyer, not quite
understanding the nature of Manutoli's distaste for his errand.
"Good-night, Signor Barone."