CHAPTER IVTHE WORD IS SPOKEN
“Itwas late in the afternoon, excellency, when the boatman put me ashore among my own people. I had learnt from him in crossing that Ugo Klun and Christine had sailed from the island at dawn; and when I stood upon the quay a friend of mine confirmed the tale.
“‘The son of the woodlander—have you not heard? He came here at noon with a wench from Zlarin, and has set off with her to the hills. She called him husband—olà, he has a good wit, has Ugo, the rogue!’
“Thus he spoke—one who knew the man and had seen him that day in the streets of Sebenico. It was a poor story, he being able to tell me no more than this simple fact, that the two had come and gone, and that the woman had called the man husband. And this it was that troubled me. For if she had really stood before the altar with Ugo—then was my work at an end, and nothing remained but toturn my steps northward and go to my business. Yet, think as I would, I could see no means by which this lawful consummation had come about. That the two were not married upon the island of Zlarin I knew well. How, then, I asked, should she call him husband rightly so soon as the ship which carried her from Zlarin touched the quay at Sebenico? The more I thought upon it, the more convinced I was that he had tricked her with some promise, saying: ‘Come with me and I will shew thee this and that, and you shall be my wife when we are in the city.’ Nay, so sure was I of this that I went at once to the Place du Dôme, and there inquired of the priests if any marriage had been celebrated that day, either there or in the neighbouring churches. They were ready enough to make inquiry for me; and presently were able to tell that no priest in Sebenico had celebrated the Sacrament of marriage for three days. I had looked for no other answer, yet I went from the church with pity at my heart. A great gulf seemed to have opened between the child and myself. I could think of her as child no more—and yet must think of the woman and of the path she had chosen.
“Signor, there was pity at my heart for a truth, and yet more than pity. I have told you that I had left Zlarin firm in my purpose to follow the affair to the end, and, if need be, to let the law do for me that which I could not do for myself. This purpose was not changed but strengthened by my visit to the cathedral. What counsel of charity or of kindness, I asked myself, should stay my hand? I was an old man and could not hunt in the mountains for her I called my child, as a younger might have done. Had I started upon such an errand, the very stones would have called out upon me for a fool. Yet I knew that I had but to whisper a word in the ear of the police-inspector in Sebenico to trap my man as surely as though a prison then held him. Long I hesitated, standing in the busy street, and thinking again upon all that might be, saying what I could for the motives of the one and the surrender of the other. For I knew that once the word was spoken, that once the police knew that Ugo Klun, the son of the woodlander, had been drawn for the army at Jajce and had fled from the service, no afterthought could save him. There was no retreat from a step like that.Either I let the man and woman go, or I separated them for ever. Excellency, do you wonder that my will faltered, and that the word came slowly to my lips?
“It came slowly—aye, an hour passed and found me still walking in the Place du Dôme. Perchance I had never spoken, and had returned to Pola, if a sudden memory of my talk with little Christine had not recurred to me at the very moment when I was telling myself that she was no longer a child and must take upon her own shoulders the burden she had sought. I remembered then that she had confessed rather to aversion than to love; had told me of her dread of the man’s touch, of her fear when he held her in his embrace. ‘She has gone with him,’ I said, ‘in the hope that he will carry her to those cities she has seen in her dreams. Love is no part of the bargain. He or any other, what matter so long as she is taken from the savage life she lives to that current of the greater life which is her ambition. It may be that she knows nothing of that which awaits her; that in her childish fancy she sees herself running through the world hand in hand with this friend she has found, maintaining to oldage the simple affections of her island home. What the awakening will bring, God alone can tell. It may be that he will leave her; and that she, cut adrift in a land where woman is reckoned a little lower than the animals, will become the victim of those who know neither fear nor pity.’
“In the island it was different, excellency. We remain children of Italy, faithful sons of the Church; the old spirit of our past still breathes upon us the breath of freedom and of faith. But cross the mountains and all is changed. It is to pass from the West to the East; to leave a land where woman is the creature of reason and of affection for one where she is but a beast of burden and the slave of passion. To such a land the man was now leading the child. I knew that her exceeding beauty was the most dangerous weapon she could carry for the journey, I foresaw the day when she would be alone—excellency, I spoke the word.
“The sun was setting over the gulf; a great arc of golden light fell upon the distant islands when at last I brought myself to this resolution.
“‘Better,’ I said, ‘that she should awake fromher dream this very night than that the morrow should tell her what bargain she has made.’ Perhaps it was that my own abiding love for her helped me in some measure to the action. I whispered to myself that so soon as the man was in prison at the fort I would take her to Pola with me. She would be my daughter in fact if not in name. I would spend money to give her education; and those wonderful gifts of hers should make her famous among the musicians of Italy. As for the woodlander, she would forget him in a month. She would even laugh at herself for this day’s work, and thank me for my share in it. The man would serve his years in thelandwehr, and those days he must spend in a cell would help to make a good soldier of him. They would catch him in a few hours, for he had left the town in a rumbling waggon, and that would be no match for the troopers at the fort sent out to the pursuit of a deserter.
“This I said to myself going up the hill to the office of the police. Once I had bent my mind to the resolution, I hesitated no longer. A few words to a sergeant at the bureau—and my purpose was fulfilled. He took down mystory, noting that Ugo Klun, the son of the woodlander at Jajce, had been drawn for service with the hussars, but had fled to the hills; that he was seen in Sebenico at noon that day, and was then supposed to be upon the road to Verlika.
“‘You have done well,’ said he; ‘there is too much of this sort of thing, and we are in trouble at Vienna about it already. We shall catch your man before midnight; and that will be something. You must drink a glass of wine with me, my friend.’
“I declined his offer, pleading that I had been long away from home and must see to my own affairs before the dark fell. But I had not taken many steps from his office when a man, who had there listened to our talk, pulled at the sleeve of my coat and spoke a word to me.
“‘Accidente, old Andrea,’ cried he, ‘but you are no friend to the lovers!’
“‘How—what mean you?’ said I, drawing back from him.
“‘To put fetters upon a man’s legs when he is away with his bride.Per Baccho, that is cunning work!’
“My heart was chilled at his words, and my lips trembled when I said:
“‘She is no bride of his.’
“‘No bride of his?—then the devil must have divorced them. She was married before my eyes this very morning. I had business last night at Incoronata, and she came there at Mass to-day. The priest married them before I sailed.Santa Maria, but you have laid his sheets well, old Andrea!’
“I turned from him impatiently, and went in silence and in gloom to my house. That Christine had chosen to cross not to the city, but to a neighbouring island, and there to receive the Sacrament of marriage, was a thing I had never looked to hear.
“‘Now God forgive me,’ said I, ‘for those whom He has joined together I have this night put asunder.’”