ANDso my life went on for a little while, filled with pleasure and amusement. I was contented with my lot, and had no wish for change. The time went by, and we reached the first week in April. Girolamo had organised a great ball to celebrate the completion of his Palace. He had started living in it as soon as there were walls and roof, but he had spent years on the decorations, taking into his service the best artists he could find in Italy; and now at last everything was finished. The Orsi had been invited with peculiar cordiality, and on the night we betook ourselves to the Palace.
We walked up the stately staircase, a masterpiece of architecture, and found ourselves in the enormous hall which Girolamo had designed especially for gorgeous functions. It was ablaze with light. At the further end, on a low stage, led up to by three broad steps, under a daïs, on high-backed, golden chairs, sat Girolamo and Caterina Sforza. Behind them, in a semicircle, and on the steps at each side, were the ladies of Caterina's suite, and a number ofgentlemen; at the back, standing like statues, a row of men-at-arms.
'It is almost regal!' said Checco, pursing up his lips.
'It is not so poor a thing to be the Lord of Forli,' answered Matteo. Fuel to the fire!
We approached, and Girolamo, as he saw us, rose and came down the steps.
'Hail, my Checco!' he said, taking both his hands. 'Till you had come the assembly was not complete.'
Matteo and I went to the Countess. She had surpassed herself this night. Her dress was of cloth of silver, shimmering and sparkling. In her hair were diamonds shining like fireflies in the night; her arms, her neck, her fingers glittered with costly gems. I had never seen her look so beautiful, nor so magnificent. Let them say what they liked, Checco and Matteo and the rest of them, but she was born to be a queen. How strange that this offspring of the rough Condottiere and the lewd woman should have a majesty such as one imagines of a mighty empress descended from countless kings.
She took the trouble to be particularly gracious to us. Me she complimented on some verses she had seen, and was very flattering in reference to a pastoral play which I had arranged. She could not congratulate my good Matteo on any intellectual achievements, but the fame of his amours gave her a subject on which she could playfully reproach him. She demanded details, and I left her listening intently to some history which Matteo was whispering in her ear; and I knew he was not particular in what he said.
I felt in peculiarly high spirits, and I looked about for someone on whom to vent my good humour. I caught sight of Giulia. I had seen her once or twice since my return to Forli, but had never spoken to her. Now I felt sure of myself; I knew I did not care two straws for her, but I thought it would please me to have a little revenge. I looked at her a moment. I made up my mind; I went to her and bowed most ceremoniously.
'Donna Giulia, behold the moth!' I had used the simile before, but not to her, so it did not matter.
She looked at me undecidedly, not quite knowing how to take me.
'May I offer you my arm,' I said as blandly as I could.
She smiled a little awkwardly and took it.
'How beautiful the Countess is to-night!' I said. 'Everyone will fall in love with her.' I knew she hated Caterina, a sentiment which the great lady returned with vigour. 'I would not dare say it to another; but I know you are never jealous: she is indeed like the moon among the stars.'
'The idea does not seem too new,' she said coldly.
'It is all the more comprehensible. I am thinking of writing a sonnet on the theme.'
'I imagined it had been done before; but the ladies of Forli will doubtless be grateful to you.'
She was getting cross; and I knew by experience that when she was cross she always wanted to cry.
'I am afraid you are angry with me,' I said.
'No, it is you who are angry with me,' she answered rather tearfully.
'I? Why should you think that?'
'You have not forgiven me for—'
I wondered whether the conscientious Giorgio had had another attack of morality and ridden off into the country.
'My dear lady,' I said, with a little laugh, 'I assure you that I have forgiven you entirely. After all, it was not such a very serious matter.'
'No?' She looked at me with a little surprise.
I shrugged my shoulders.
'You were quite right in what you did. Those things have to finish some time or other, and it really does not so much matter when.'
'I was afraid I had hurt you,' she said in a low voice.
The scene came to my mind; the dimly-lit room, the delicate form lying on the couch, cold and indifferent, while I was given over to an agony of despair. I remembered the glitter of the jewelled ring against the white hand. I would have no mercy.
'My dear Giulia—you will allow me to call you Giulia?'
She nodded.
'My dear Giulia, I was a little unhappy at first, I acknowledge, but one gets over those things so quickly—a bottle of wine, and a good sleep: they are like bleeding to a fever.'
'You were unhappy?'
'Naturally; one is always rather put out when one is dismissed. One would prefer to have done the breaking oneself.'
'It was a matter of pride?'
'I am afraid I must confess to it.'
'I did not think so at the time.'
I laughed.
'Oh, that is my excited way of putting things. I frightened you; but it did not really mean anything.'
She did not answer. After a while I said,—
'You know, when one is young one should make the most of one's time. Fidelity is a stupid virtue, unphilosophical and extremely unfashionable.'
'What do you mean?'
'Simply this; you did not particularly love me, and I did not particularly love you.'
'Oh!'
'We had a passing fancy for one another, and that satisfied there was nothing more to keep us together. We should have been very foolish not to break the chain; if you had not done so, I should have. With your woman's intuition, you saw that and forestalled me!'
Again she did not answer.
'Of course, if you had been in love with me, or I with you, it would have been different. But as it was—'
'I see my cousin Violante in the corner there; will you lead me to her?'
I did as she asked, and as she was bowing me my dismissal I said,—
'We have had a very pleasant talk, and we are quite good friends, are we not?'
'Quite!' she said.
I drew a long breath as I left her. I hoped I had hurt; I hoped I had humiliated her. I wished I could have thought of things to say that would have cut her to the heart. I was quite indifferent to her, but when I remembered—I hated her.
I knew everyone in Forli by now, and as I turned away from Giulia I had no lack of friends with whom to talk. The rooms became more crowded every moment. The assembly was the most brilliant that Forli had ever seen; and as the evening wore on the people became more animated; a babel of talk drowned the music, and the chief topic of conversation was the wonderful beauty of Caterina. She was bubbling over with high spirits; no one knew what had happened to make her so joyful, for of late she had suffered a little from the unpopularity of her husband, and a sullen look of anger had replaced the old smiles and graces. But to-night she was herself again. Men were standing round talking to her, and one heard a shout of laughter from them as every now and then she made some witty repartee; and her conversation gained another charm from a sort of soldierly bluntness which people remembered in Francesco Sforza, and which she had inherited. People also spoke of the cordiality of Girolamo towards our Checco; he walked up and down the room with him, arm in arm, talking affectionately; it reminded the onlookers of the time when they had been as brothers together. Caterina occasionally gave them a glance and a little smile of approval; she was evidently well pleased with the reconciliation.
I was making my way through the crowd, watching the various people, giving a word here and there or a nod, and I thought that life was really a very amusing thing. I felt mightily pleased with myself, and I wondered where my good friend Claudia was; I must go and pay her my respects.
'Filippo!'
I turned and saw Scipione Moratini standing by his sister, with a number of gentlemen and ladies, most of them known to me.
'Why are you smiling so contentedly?' he said. 'You look as if you had lost a pebble and found a diamond in its place.'
'Perhaps I have; who knows?'
At that moment I saw Ercole Piacentini enter the room with his wife; I wondered why they were so late. Claudia was at once seized upon by one of her admirers, and, leaving her husband, sauntered off on the proffered arm. Ercole came up the room on his way to the Count. His grim visage was contorted into an expression of amiability, which sat on him with an ill grace.
'This is indeed a day of rejoicing,' I said; 'even the wicked ogre is trying to look pleasant.'
Giulia gave a little silvery laugh. I thought it forced.
'You have a forgiving spirit, dear friend,' she said, accenting the last word in recollection of what I had said to her. 'A truly Christian disposition!'
'Why?' I asked, smiling.
'I admire the way in which you have forgiven Ercole for the insults he has offered you; one does not often find a gentleman who so charitably turns his other cheek to the smiter!'
I laughed within myself; she was trying to be even with me. I was glad to see that my darts had taken good effect. Scipione interposed, for what his sister had said was sufficiently bitter.
'Nonsense, Giulia!' he said. 'You know Filippois the last man to forgive his enemies until the breath is well out of their bodies; but circumstances—'
Giulia pursed up her lips into an expression of contempt.
'Circumstances. I was surprised, because I remembered the vigour with which Messer Filippo had vowed to revenge himself.'
'Oh, but Messer Filippo considers that he has revenged himself very effectively,' I said.
'How?'
'There are more ways of satisfying one's honour than by cutting a hole in a person's chest.'
'What do you mean, Filippo?' said Scipione.
'Did you not see as he passed?'
'Ercole? What?'
'Did you not see the adornment of his noble head, the elegant pair of horns?'
They looked at me, not quite understanding; then I caught sight of Claudia, who was standing close to us.
'Ah, I see the diamond I have found in place of the pebble I have lost. I pray you excuse me.'
Then as they saw me walk towards Claudia they understood, and I heard a burst of laughter. I took my lady's hand, and bowing deeply, kissed it with the greatest fervour. I glanced at Giulia from the corner of my eyes and saw her looking down on the ground, with a deep blush of anger on her face. My heart leapt for joy to think that I had returned something of the agony she had caused me.
The evening grew late and the guests began to go. Checco, as he passed me, asked,—
'Are you ready?'
'Yes!' I said, accompanying him to Girolamo and the Countess to take our leave.
'You are very unkind, Checco,' said the Countess. 'You have not come near me the whole evening.'
'You have been so occupied,' he answered.
'But I am not now,' she replied, smiling.
'The moment I saw you free I came to you.'
'To say good-bye.'
'It is very late.'
'No, surely; sit down and talk to me.'
Checco did as he was bid, and I, seeing he meant to stay longer, sauntered off again in search of friends. The conversation between Checco and the Countess was rather hindered by the continual leave-takings, as the people began to go away rapidly, in groups. I sat myself down in a window with Matteo, and we began comparing notes of our evening; he told me of a new love to whom he had discovered his passion for the first time.
'Fair wind, foul wind?' I asked, laughing.
'She pretended to be very angry,' he said, 'but she allowed me to see that if the worst came to the worst she would not permit me to break my heart.'
I looked out into the room and found that everyone had gone, except Ercole Piacentini, who was talking to the Count in undertones.
'I am getting so sleepy,' said Matteo. We went forward to the Countess, who said, as she saw us come,—
'Go away, Matteo! I will not have you drag Checco away yet; we have been trying to talk to one another for the last half-hour, and now that we have the chance at last I refuse to be disturbed.'
'I would not for worlds rob Checco of such pleasure,' said Matteo; adding to me, as we retired to our window, 'What a nuisance having to wait for one's cousin while a pretty woman is flirting with him!'
'You have me to talk to—what more can you want!'
'I don't want to talk to you at all,' he answered, laughing.
Girolamo was still with Ercole. His mobile eyes were moving over the room, hardly ever resting on Ercole's face, but sometimes on us, more often on Checco. I wondered whether he was jealous.
At last Checco got up and said Good-night. Then Girolamo came forward.
'You are not going yet,' he said. 'I want to speak with you on the subject of those taxes.'
It was the first time he had mentioned them.
'It is getting so late,' said Checco, 'and these good gentlemen are tired.'
'They can go home. Really, it is very urgent.'
Checco hesitated, and looked at us.
'We will wait for you,' said Matteo.
Girolamo's eyes moved about here and there, never resting a moment, from Checco to me, from me to Matteo, and on to his wife, and then on again, with extraordinary rapidity—it was quite terrifying.
'One would think you were afraid of leaving Checco in our hands,' said the Countess, smiling.
'No,' returned Matteo; 'but I look forward to having some of your attention now that Checco is otherwise occupied. Will you let me languish?'
She laughed, and a rapid glance passed between her and the Count.
'I shall be only too pleased,' she said, 'come and sit by me, one on each side.'
The Count turned to Ercole.
'Well, good-night, my friend,' he said. 'Good-night!'
Ercole left us, and Girolamo, taking Checco's arm, walked up and down the room, speaking. The Countess and Matteo commenced a gay conversation. Although I was close to them I was left alone, and I watched the Count. His eyes fascinated me, moving ceaselessly. What could be behind them? What could be the man's thoughts that his eyes should never rest? They enveloped the person they looked at—his head, every feature of his face, his body, his clothes; one imagined there was no detail they had not caught; it was as if they ate into the very soul of the man.
The two men tramped up and down, talking earnestly; I wondered what they were saying. At last Girolamo stopped.
'Ah, well, I must have mercy on you; I shall tire you to death. And you know I do not wish to do anything to harm you.'
Checco smiled.
'Whatever difficulty there has been between us, Checco, you know that there has never on my part been any ill-feeling towards you. I have always had for you a very sincere and affectionate friendship.'
And as he said the words an extraordinary change came over him. The eyes, the mobile eyes, stopped still at last; for the first time I saw them perfectlysteady, motionless, like glass; they looked fixedly into Checco's eyes, without winking, and their immobility was as strange as their perpetual movement, and to me it was more terrifying. It was as if Girolamo was trying to see his own image in Checco's soul.
We bade them farewell, and together issued out into the silence of the night; and I felt that behind us the motionless eyes, like glass, were following us into the darkness.
WEissued out into the silence of the night. There had been a little rain during the day, and the air in consequence was fresh and sweet; the light breeze of the spring made one expand one's lungs and draw in long breaths. One felt the trees bursting out into green leaves, and the buds on the plants opening their downy mantles and discovering the flower within. Light clouds were wandering lazily along the sky, and between them shone out a few dim stars. Checco and Matteo walked in front, while I lingered enjoying the spring night; it filled me with a sweet sadness, a reaction from the boisterous joy of the evening, and pleasant by the contrast.
When Matteo fell behind and joined me, I received him a little unwillingly, disappointed at the interruption of my reverie.
'I asked Checco what the Count had said to him of the taxes, but he would not tell me; he said he wanted to think about the conversation.'
I made no answer, and we walked on in silence. We had left the piazza, and were going through the narrow streets bordered by the tall black houses. It was very late, and there was not a soul about; therewas no sound but that of our own footsteps, and of Checco walking a few yards in front. Between the roofs of the houses only a little strip of sky could be seen, a single star, and the clouds floating lazily. The warm air blew in my face, and filled me with an intoxication of melancholy. I thought how sweet it would be to fall asleep this night, and never again to wake. I was tired, and I wanted the rest of an endless sleep....
Suddenly I was startled by a cry.
I saw from the shadow of the houses black forms spring out on Checco. An arm was raised, and a glittering instrument flashed in the darkness. He staggered forward.
'Matteo,' he cried. 'Help! Help!'
We rushed forward, drawing our swords. There was a scuffle, three of us against four of them, a flash of swords, a cry from one of the men as he reeled and fell with a wound from Matteo's sword. Then another rush, a little band of men suddenly appeared round the corner, and Ercole Piacentini's voice, crying,—
'What is it? What is it?'
And Matteo's answer,—
'Help us, Ercole! I have killed one. Checco is stabbed.'
'Ah!' a cry from Ercole, and with his men he rushed into the fray.
A few more cries, still the flash of swords, the fall of heavy bodies on the stones.
'They are done for!' said Matteo.
The shouts, the clang of metal woke up the neighbours; lights were seen at the windows, and night-capped women appeared shrieking; doors werethrown open, and men came out in their shirts, sword in hand.
'What is it? What is it?'
'Checco, are you hurt?' asked Matteo.
'No; my coat of mail!'
'Thank God you had it on! I saw you stagger.'
'It was the blow. At first I did not know whether I was hurt or not.'
'What is it? What is it?'
The neighbours surrounded us.
'They have tried to murder Checco! Checco d'Orsi!'
'My God! Is he safe?'
'Who has done it?'
All eyes were turned to the four men, each one lying heaped up on the ground, with the blood streaming from his wounds.
'They are dead!'
'Footpads!' said Ercole; 'they wanted to rob you, and did not know you were accompanied.'
'Footpads! Why should footpads rob me this night?' said Checco. 'I wish they were not dead.'
'Look, look!' said a bystander, 'there is one moving.'
The words were hardly out of the man's mouth before one of Ercole's soldiers snatched up his dagger and plunged it in the man's neck, shouting,—
'Bestia!'
A tremor went through the prostrate body, and then it was quite still.
'You fool!' said Matteo, angrily. 'Why did you do that?'
'He is a murderer,' said the soldier.
'You fool, we wanted him alive, not dead. We could have found out who hired him.'
'What do you mean?' said Ercole. 'They are common robbers.'
'Here is the guard,' cried someone.
The guard came, and immediately there was a babel of explanation. The captain stepped forward, and examined the men lying on the ground.
'They are all dead,' he said.
'Take them away,' said Ercole. 'Let them be put in a church till morning.'
'Stop!' cried Checco. 'Bring a light, and let us see if we can recognise them.'
'Not now, it is late. To-morrow you can do what you like.'
'To-morrow it will be later, Ercole,' answered Checco. 'Bring a light.'
Torches were brought, and thrust into the face of each dead man. Everyone eagerly scrutinised the features, drawn up in their last agony.
'I don't know him.'
Then to another.
'No.'
And the other two also were unknown. Checco examined the face of the last, and shook his head. But a man broke out excitedly,—
'Ah! I know him.'
A cry from us all.
'Who is it?'
'I know him. It is a soldier, one of the Count's guard.'
'Ah!' said Matteo and Checco, looking at one another. 'One of the Count's guard!'
'That is a lie,' said Ercole. 'I know them all, and I have never seen that face before. It is a footpad, I tell you.'
'It is not. I know him well. He is a member of the guard.'
'It is a lie, I tell you.'
'Ercole is doubtless right,' said Checco. 'They are common thieves. Let them be taken away. They have paid a heavy price for their attempt. Good-night, my friends. Good-night, Ercole, and thanks.'
The guard took hold of the dead men by the head and by the feet, and one after another, in single file, they bore them off down the dark street. We three moved on, the crowd gradually melted away, and everything again became dark and silent.
We walked home side by side without speaking. We came to the Palazzo Orsi, entered, walked upstairs, one after the other, into Checco's study, lights were brought, the door closed carefully, and Checco turned round to us.
'Well?'
Neither I nor Matteo spoke. Checco clenched his fist, and his eyes flashed as he hissed out,—
'The cur!'
We all knew the attempt was the Count's....
'By God! I am glad you are safe,' said Matteo.
'What a fool I was to be taken in by his protestations! I ought to have known that he would never forget the injury I had done him.'
'He planned it well,' said Matteo.
'Except for the soldier,' I remarked. 'He should not have chosen anyone who could be recognised.'
'Probably he was the leader. But how well hemanaged everything, keeping us after the others, and nearly persuading Filippo and me to go home before you. Caterina was in the plot.'
'I wonder he did not defer the attempt when he found you would not be alone,' I said to Checco.
'He knows I am never alone, and such an opportunity would not easily occur again. Perhaps he thought they could avoid you two, or even murder you as well.'
'But Ercole and his men?' I said.
'Yes, I have been thinking about them. The only explanation I have is that he placed them there to cover their flight if they succeeded, and if they failed or could not escape, to kill them.'
'As, in fact, they did. I thought I saw Ercole make a sign to the soldier who stabbed the only living one.'
'Possibly. The idea was evidently to destroy all witnesses and all opportunity for inquiry.'
'Well,' said Matteo, 'it will show others that it is dangerous to do dirty work for the Riario.'
'It will indeed!'
'And now, what is to happen?' said Matteo.
Checco looked at him, but did not reply.
'Do you still refuse to do to Girolamo as he has tried to do to you?'
Checco answered quietly,—
'No!'
'Ah!' we both cried. 'Then you consent?'
'I see no reason now for not taking the law into my own hands.'
'Assassination?' whispered Matteo.
And Checco answered boldly,—
'Assassination!' Then, after a pause, 'It is the only way open to me. Do you remember Lorenzo's words? They have been with me every day, and I have considered them very, very deeply: "Let Checco know that it is only the fool who proposes to himself an end, when he cannot or will not attain it; but the man who deserves the name of man marches straight to the goal with clearness of mind and strength of will. He looks at things as they are, putting aside all vain appearances, and when his intelligence has shown him the means to his end, he is a fool if he refuses them, and he is a wise man if he uses them steadily and unhesitatingly." I know the end, and I will attain it. I know the means, and I will use them steadily, without hesitation.'
'I am glad to hear you speak like that at last!' said Matteo. 'We shall have plenty to help us. The Moratini will join at once. Jacopo Ronchi and Lodovico Pansecchi are so bitter against the Count they will come with us as soon as they hear you have decided to kill the enemy of us all.'
'You are blind, Matteo. Do you not see what we must do? You mistake the means for the end.'
'What do you mean?'
'The death of Girolamo is only a means. The end is further and higher.'
Matteo did not speak.
'I must keep my hands clean from any base motive. It must not seem that I am influenced by any personal incentive. Nothing must come from me. The idea of assassination must come from outside.'
'Whom do you—'
'I think Bartolomeo Moratini must propose it, and I will yield to his instances.'
'Good! then I will go to him.'
'That will not do either. Neither you nor I must be concerned in it. Afterwards it must be clear to all minds that the Orsi were influenced solely by the public welfare. Do you see? I will tell you how it must be. Filippo must help us. He must go to Bartolomeo, and from his great affection for us talk of our danger and intreat Bartolomeo to persuade me to the assassination. Do you understand, Filippo?'
'Perfectly!'
'Will you do it?'
'I will go to him to-morrow.'
'Wait till the news of the attempt has spread.'
I smiled at the completeness with which Checco had arranged everything; he had evidently thought it all out. How had his scruples disappeared?
The blackness of the night was sinking before the dawn when we bade one another good-night.
ISEEMEDto have slept a bare half-hour when I was awakened by a great noise downstairs. I got up, and looking out of the window saw a crowd gathered in the street below; they were talking and gesticulating furiously. Then I remembered the occurrence of the night, and I saw that the news had spread and these were citizens come to gather details. I went downstairs and found the courtyard thronged. Immediately I was surrounded by anxious people asking for news. Very contrary reports had circulated; some said that Checco had been killed outright, others that he had escaped, while most asserted that he was wounded. All asked for Checco.
'If he is unhurt, why does he not show himself?' they asked.
A servant assured them that he was dressing, and would be with them at once.... Suddenly there was a shout. Checco had appeared at the top of the stairs. They rushed towards him, surrounding him with cries of joy; they seized his hand, they clung to his legs, some of them touched him all over to see that he was indeed unwounded,others kissed the lappets of his coat.... Bartolomeo Moratini entered the court with his sons, and the people shrunk back as he came forward and embraced Checco.
'Thank God you are saved!' he said. 'It will be an evil day for Forli when anything happens to you.'
The people answered in shouts. But at that moment another sound was heard without—a long and heavy murmur. The people surrounding the doorway looked out and turned in astonishment to their neighbours, pointing to the street; the murmur spread. What was it?
'Make way! Make way!'
A strident voice called out the words, and ushers pushed the people aside. A little troop of men appeared in the entrance, and as they sank back there stepped forward the Count. The Count! Checco started, but immediately recovering himself advanced to meet his visitor. Girolamo walked up to him, and taking him in his arms kissed him on the cheeks, and said,—
'My Checco! My Checco!'
We who knew and the others who suspected looked on with astonishment.
'As soon as I heard the terrible news I rushed to find you,' said the Count. 'Are you safe—quite safe?'
He embraced him again.
'You cannot think what agony I suffered when I heard you were wounded. How glad I am it was not true. Oh, God in Heaven, I thank Thee for my Checco!'
'You are very kind, my lord,' answered our friend.
'But it is some consolation that the miscreants have met the end which they deserved. We must take steps to free the town of all such dangerous persons. What will men say of my rule when it is known that the peaceful citizen cannot walk home at night without danger to his life? Oh, Checco, I blame myself bitterly.'
'You have no cause, my lord, but—would it not be well to examine the men to see if they are known in Forli? Perhaps they have associates.'
'Certainly; the idea was in my mind. Let them be laid out in the market-place so that all may see them.'
'Pardon, sir,' said one of his suite, 'but they were laid in the Church of San Spirito last night, and this morning they have disappeared.'
Matteo and I looked at one another. Checco kept his eyes fixed on the Count.
'Disappeared!' cried the latter, displaying every sign of impatience. 'Who is responsible for this? Offer a reward for the discovery of their bodies and of any accomplices. I insist on their being discovered!'
Shortly afterwards he took his leave, after repeatedly kissing Checco, and warmly congratulating Matteo and myself on the assistance we had given to our friend. To me he said,—
'I regret, Messer Filippo, that you are not a Forlivese. I should be proud to have such a citizen.'
Bartolomeo Moratini was still at the Palazzo Orsi, so, seizing my opportunity, I took him by the armand walked with him to the statue gallery, where we could talk in peace.
'What do you think of all this?' I said.
He shook his head.
'It is the beginning of the end. Of course it is clear to all of us that the assassination was ordered by the Count; he will persuade nobody of his innocence by his pretended concern. All the town is whispering his name.
'Having made a first attempt and failed, he will not hesitate to make a second, for if he could forgive the injury which he has received from Checco, he can never forgive the injury which he himself has done him. And next time he will not fail.'
'I am terribly concerned,' I said. 'You know the great affection I have for both the Orsi.'
He stopped and warmly shook my hand.
'I cannot let Checco throw away his life in this way,' I said.
'What can be done?'
'Only one thing, and you suggested it.... Girolamo must be killed.'
'Ah, but Checco will never consent to that.'
'I am afraid not,' I said gravely. 'You know the delicacy of his conscience.'
'Yes; and though I think it excessive, I admire him for it. In these days it is rare to find a man so honest and upright and conscientious as Checco. But, Messer Filippo, one must yield to the ideas of the age one lives in.'
'I, too, am convinced of his noble-mindedness, but it will ruin him.'
'I am afraid so,' sighed the old man, stroking his beard.
'But he must be saved in spite of himself. He must be brought to see the necessity of killing the Count.' I spoke as emphatically as I could.
'He will never consent.'
'He must consent; and you are the man to make him do so. He would not listen to anything that Matteo or I said, but for you he has the greatest respect. I am sure if anyone can influence him it is you.'
'I have some power over him, I believe.'
'Will you try? Don't let him suspect that Matteo or I have had anything to do with it, or he will not listen. It must come solely from you.'
'I will do my best.'
'Ah, that is good of you. But don't be discouraged by his refusals; be insistent, for our sake. And one thing more, you know his unselfishness; he would not move his hand to save himself, but if you showed him that it is for the good of others, he could not refuse. Let him think the safety of us all depends on him. He is a man you can only move by his feeling for others.'
'I believe you,' he answered. 'But I will go to him, and I will leave no argument unused.'
'I am sure that your efforts will be rewarded.'
Here I showed myself a perfectly wise man, for I only prophesied because I knew.
INthe evening Bartolomeo returned to the Palace and asked for Checco. At his request Matteo and I joined him in Checco's study, and besides there were his two sons, Scipione and Alessandro. Bartolomeo was graver than ever.
'I have come to you now, Checco, impelled by a very strong sense of duty, and I wish to talk with you on a matter of the greatest importance.'
He cleared his throat.
'Firstly, are you convinced that the attempt on your life was plotted by Girolamo Riario?'
'I am sorry for his sake, but—I am.'
'So are we all, absolutely. And what do you intend to do now?'
'What can I do? Nothing!'
'The answer is not nothing. You have something to do.'
'And that is?'
'To kill Girolamo before he has time to kill you.'
Checco started to his feet.
'They have been talking to you—Matteo and Filippo. It is they who have put this in your head. I knew it would be suggested again.'
'Nothing has given me the idea but the irresistible force of circumstances.'
'Never! I will never consent to that.'
'But he will kill you.'
'I can die!'
'It will be the ruin of your family. What will happen to your wife and children if you are dead?'
'If need be they can die too. No one who bears the name of Orsi fears death.'
'You cannot sacrifice their lives in cold blood.'
'I cannot kill a fellow-man in cold blood. Ah, my friend, you don't know what is in me. I am not religious; I have never meddled with priests; but something in my heart tells me not to do this thing. I don't know what it is—conscience or honour—but it is speaking clearly within me.'
He had his hand on his heart, and was speaking very earnestly. We followed his eyes and saw them resting on a crucifix.
'No, Bartolomeo,' he said, 'one cannot forget God. He is above us always, always watching us; and what should I say to Him with the blood of that man on my hands? You may say what you like, but, believe me, it is best to be honest and straight-forward, and to the utmost of one's ability to carry out the doctrines which Christ has left us, and upon which he set the seal with the blood of His hands and feet and the wound in His side.'
Bartolomeo looked at me as if it were hopeless to attempt anything against such sentiments. But I signed him energetically to go on; he hesitated. It would be almost tragic if he gave the matter upbefore Checco had time to surrender. However, he proceeded,—
'You are a good man, Checco, and I respect you deeply for what you have said. But if you will not stir to save yourself, think of the others.'
'What do you mean?' said Checco, starting as if from a dream.
'Have you the right to sacrifice your fellowmen? The citizens of Forli depend on you.'
'Ah, they will easily find another leader. Why, you yourself will be of greater assistance to them than I have ever been. How much better will they be in your strong hands than with me!'
'No, no! You are the only man who has power here. You could not be replaced.'
'But what can I do more than I am doing. I do not seek to leave Forli; I will stay here and protect myself as much as I can. I cannot do more.'
'Oh, Checco, look at their state. It cannot continue. They are ground down now; the Count must impose these taxes, and what will be their condition then? The people are dying in their misery, and the survivors hold happy those who die. How can you look on and see all this? And you, you know Girolamo will kill you; it is a matter of time, and who can tell how short a time? Perhaps even now he is forging the weapon of your death.'
'My death! My death!' cried Checco. 'All that is nothing!'
'But what will be the lot of the people when you are gone? You are the only curb on Riario's tyranny. When you are dead, nothing will keep him back. And when once he has eased his path by murder hewill not fail to do so again. We shall live under perpetual terror of the knife. Oh, have mercy on your fellow-citizens.'
'My country!' said Checco. 'My country!'
'You cannot resist this. For the good of your country you must lead us on.'
'And if my soul—'
'It is for your country. Ah! Checco, think of us all. Not for ourselves only, but for our wives, our innocent children, we beg you, we implore. Shall we go down on our knees to you?'
'Oh, my God, what shall I do?' said Checco, extremely agitated.
'Listen to my father, Checco!' said Scipione. 'He has right on his side.'
'Oh, not you, too! Do not overwhelm me. I feel you are all against me. God help me! I know it is wrong, but I feel myself wavering.'
'Do not think of yourself, Checco; it is for others, for our liberty, our lives, our all, that we implore you.'
'You move me terribly. You know how I love my country, and how can I resist you, appealing on her behalf!'
'Be brave, Checco!' said Matteo.
'It is the highest thing of all that we ask you,' added Bartolomeo. 'Man can do nothing greater. We ask you to sacrifice yourself, even your soul, may be, for the good of us all.'
Checco buried his face in his hands and groaned,—
'Oh, God! Oh, God!'
Then, with a great sigh, he rose and said,—
'Be it as you will.... For the good of my country!'
'Ah, thanks, thanks!'
Bartolomeo took him in his arms and kissed him on both cheeks. Then suddenly Checco tore himself away.
'But listen to this, all of you. I have consented, and now you must let me speak. I swear that in this thing I have no thought of myself. If I alone were concerned I would not move; I would wait for the assassin's knife calmly. I would even sacrifice my wife and children, and God knows how dearly I love them! I would not stir a finger to save myself. And I swear, by all that is most holy to me, that I am actuated by no base motive, no ambition, no thought of self, no petty revenge. I would willingly forgive Girolamo everything. Believe me, my friends, I am honest. I swear to you that I am only doing this for the welfare of the men I love, for the sake of you all, and—for Liberty.'
They warmly pressed his hands.
'We know it, Checco, we believe it. You are a great and a good man.'
A little later we began to discuss the ways and means. Everyone had his plan, and to it the others had the most conclusive objections. We all talked together, each one rather annoyed at the unwillingness of the others to listen to him, and thinking how contemptible their ideas were beside his own. Checco sat silent. After a while Checco spoke,—
'Will you listen to me?'
We held our tongues.
'First of all,' he said, 'we must find out who is with us and who is against us.'
'Well,' interrupted Scipione, 'there are the twosoldiers, Jacopo Ronchi and Lodovico Pansecchi; they are furious with the Count, and said to me a long while since that they would willingly kill him.'
'Our six selves and those two make eight.'
'Then there are Pietro Albanese, and Paglianino, and Marco Scorsacana.'
They were devoted adherents of the house of Orsi, and could be trusted to follow the head of the family to the bottomless pit.
'Eleven,' counted Bartolomeo.
'And then—'
Each mentioned a name till the total was brought to seventeen.
'Who else?' asked Matteo.
'That is enough,' said Checco. 'It is as foolish to have more than necessary as to have less. Now, once more, who are they?'
The names were repeated. They were all known enemies of the Count, and most of them related to the Orsi.
'We had better go to them separately and talk to them.'
'It will want care!' said Bartolomeo.
'Oh, they will not be backward. The first word will bring their adhesion.'
'Before that,' said Checco, 'we must make all arrangements. Every point of the execution must be arranged, and to them nothing left but the performance.'
'Well, my idea is—'
'Have the goodness to listen to me,' said Checco. 'You have been talking of committing the deed inchurch, or when he is out walking. Both of those ways are dangerous, for he is always well surrounded, and in the former, one has to remember the feeling of horror which the people have for sacrilege. Witness Galeazzo in Milan and the Medici in Florence. One is always wise to respect the prejudices of the mob....'
'What do you propose?'
'After the mid-day meal the—our friend is in the habit of retiring to a private room while his servants dine. He is then almost alone. I have often thought it would be an excellent opportunity for an assassin; I did not know it would be myself to take the opportunity.'
He paused and smiled at the pleasantness of the irony.
'Afterwards we shall raise the town, and it is well that as many of our partisans as possible be present. The best day for that is a market-day, when they will come in, and we shall have no need of specially summoning them, and thus giving rise to suspicion.'
Checco looked at us to see what we thought of his idea; then, as if from an after thought, he added,—
'Of course, this is all on the spur of the moment.'
It was well he said that, for I was thinking how elaborately everything was planned. I wondered how long he had the scheme in his head.
We found nothing to say against it.
'And who will do the actual deed?'
'I will!' answered Checco, quietly.
'You!'
'Yes, alone. I will tell you your parts later.'
'And when?'
'Next Saturday. That is the first market-day.'
'So soon.' We were all surprised; it was only five days off, it gave us very little time to think. It was terribly near. Alessandro voiced our feelings.
'Does that give us enough time? Why not Saturday week? There are many needful preparations.'
'There are no needful preparations. You have your swords ready; the others can be warned in a few hours. I wish it were to-morrow.'
'It is—it is very soon.'
'There is less danger of our courage failing meanwhile. We have our goal before us, and we must go to it straight, with clearness of mind and strength of will.'
There was nothing more to be said. As we separated, one of the Moratini asked,—
'About the others, shall we—'
'You can leave everything to me. I take all on my hands. Will you three come here to play a game of chess on Friday night at ten? Our affairs will occupy us so that we shall not meet in the interval. I recommend you to go about as much as possible, and let yourselves be seen in all assemblies and parties....'
Checco was taking his captaincy in earnest. He would allow no contradiction, and no swerving from the path he had marked out—on the spur of the moment.
We had four days in which to make merry and gather the roses; after that, who knows? We might be dangling from the Palace windows in an even line, suspended by elegant hempen ropes; or our heads might be decorating spear heads and our bodiesGod knows where. I suggested these thoughts to Matteo, but I found him singularly ungrateful. Still, he agreed with me that we had better make the most of our time, and as it accorded with Checco's wishes, we were able to go to the devil from a sense of duty. I am sure Claudia never had a lover more ardent than myself during these four days; but, added to my duties towards that beautiful creature, were routs and banquets, drinking-parties, gaming-parties, where I plunged heavily in my uncertainty of the future, and consequently won a fortune. Checco had taken on his own shoulders all preparations, so that Matteo and I had nothing to do but to enjoy ourselves; and that we did. The only sign I had that Checco had been working was a look of intelligence given me by one or two of those whose names had been mentioned in Checco's study. Jacopo Ronchi, taking leave of me on the Thursday night, said,—
'We shall meet to-morrow.'
'You are coming to play chess, I think,' I said, smiling.
When, at the appointed hour, Matteo and I found ourselves again in Checco's study, we were both rather anxious and nervous. My heart was beating quite painfully, and I could not restrain my impatience. I wished the others would come. Gradually they made their way in, and we shook hands quietly, rather mysteriously, with an air of schoolboys meeting together in the dark to eat stolen fruit. It might have been comic if our mind's eye had not presented us with so vivid a picture of a halter.
Checco began to speak in a low voice, slightlytrembling; his emotion was real enough this time, and he did all he could to conceal it.
'My very dear and faithful fellow-citizens,' he began, 'it appears that to be born in Forli, and to live in it in our times, is the very greatest misfortune with which one can be born or with which one can live.'
I never heard such silence as that among the listeners. It was awful. Checco's voice sank lower and lower, but yet every word could be distinctly heard. The tremor was increasing.
'Is it necessary that birth and life here should be the birth and life of slaves? Our glorious ancestors never submitted to this terrible misfortune. They were free, and in their freedom they found life. But this is a living death....'
He recounted the various acts of tyranny which had made the Count hateful to his subjects, and he insisted on the insecurity in which they lived.
'You all know the grievous wrongs I have suffered at the hands of the man whom I helped to place on the throne. But these wrongs I freely forgive. I am filled only with devotion to my country and love to my fellowmen. If you others have private grievances, I implore you to put them aside, and think only that you are the liberators from oppression of all those you love and cherish. Gather up to your hearts the spirit of Brutus, when, for the sake of Freedom, he killed the man whom above all others he loved.'
He gave them the details of the plot; told them what he would do himself, and what they should do, and finally dismissed them.
'Pray to God to-night,' he said earnestly, 'that He will look with favour upon the work which we have set ourselves, and implore Him to judge us by the purity of our intentions rather than by the actions which, in the imperfection of our knowledge, seem to us the only means to our end.'
We made the sign of the cross, and retired as silently as we had come.
MYsleep was troubled, and when I woke the next morning the sun had only just risen.
It was Saturday, the 14th of April 1488.
I went to my window and saw a cloudless sky, brilliantly yellow over in the east, and elsewhere liquid and white, hardening gradually into blue. The rays came dancing into my room, and in them incessantly whirled countless atoms of dust. Through the open window blew the spring wind, laden with the scents of the country, the blossoms of the fruit trees, the primroses and violets. I had never felt so young and strong and healthy. What could one not do on such a day as this! I went into Matteo's room, and found him sleeping as calmly as if this were an ordinary day like any other.
'Rise, thou sluggard!' I cried.
In a few minutes we were both ready, and we went to Checco. We found him seated at a table polishing a dagger.
'Do you remember in Tacitus,' he said, smiling pleasantly, 'how the plot against Nero was discoveredby one of the conspirators giving his dagger to his freedman to sharpen? Whereupon the freedman became suspicious, and warned the Emperor.'
'The philosophers tell us to rise on the mistakes of others,' I remarked in the same tone.
'One reason for my affection towards you, Filippo,' he answered, 'is that you have nice moral sentiments, and a pleasant moral way of looking at things.'
He held out his dagger and looked at it. The blade was beautifully damaskeened, the hilt bejewelled.
'Look,' he said, showing me the excellence of the steel, and pointing out the maker's name. Then, meditatively, 'I have been wondering what sort of blow would be most effective if one wanted to kill a man.'
'You can get most force,' said Matteo, 'by bringing the dagger down from above your head—thus.'
'Yes; but then you may strike the ribs, in which case you would not seriously injure your friend.'
'You can hit him in the neck.'
'The space is too small, and the chin may get in the way. On the other hand, a wound in the large vessels of that region is almost immediately fatal.'
'It is an interesting subject,' I said. 'My opinion is that the best of all blows is an underhand one, ripping up the stomach.'
I took the dagger and showed him what I meant.
'There are no hindrances in the way of bones; it is simple and certainly fatal.'
'Yes,' said Checco, 'but not immediately! My impression is that the best way is between the shoulders. Then you strike from the back, and yourvictim can see no uplifted hand to warn him, and, if he is very quick, enable him to ward the blow.'
'It is largely a matter of taste,' I answered, shrugging my shoulders. 'In these things a man has to judge for himself according to his own idiosyncrasies.'
After a little more conversation I proposed to Matteo that we should go out to the market-place and see the people.
'Yes, do!' said Checco, 'and I will go and see my father.'
As we walked along, Matteo told me that Checco had tried to persuade his father to go away for a while, but that he had refused, as also had his wife. I had seen old Orso d'Orsi once or twice; he was very weak and decrepit; he never came downstairs, but stayed in his own rooms all day by the fireside, playing with his grand-children. Checco was in the habit of going to see him every day, morning and evening, but to the rest of us it was as if he did not exist. Checco was complete master of everything.
The market-place was full of people. Booths were erected in rows, and on the tables the peasant women had displayed their wares: vegetables and flowers, chickens, ducks and all kinds of domestic fowls, milk, butter, eggs; and other booths with meat and oil and candles. And the sellers were a joyful crew, decked out with red and yellow handkerchiefs, great chains of gold around their necks, and spotless headdresses; they were standing behind their tables, with a scale on one hand and a little basin full of coppers on the other, crying out to one another, bargaining, shouting and joking, laughing, quarrelling. Then there were the purchasers, who walked along lookingat the goods, picking up things and pinching them, smelling them, tasting them, examining them from every point of view. And the sellers of tokens and amulets and charms passed through the crowd crying out their wares, elbowing, cursing when someone knocked against them. Gliding in and out, between people's legs, under the barrow wheels, behind the booths, were countless urchins, chasing one another through the crowd unmindful of kicks and cuffs, pouncing on any booth of which the proprietor had turned his back, seizing the first thing they could lay hands on, and scampering off with all their might. And there was a conjurer with a gaping crowd, a quack extracting teeth, a ballad singer. Everywhere was noise, and bustle, and life.
'One would not say on the first glance that these people were miserably oppressed slaves,' I said maliciously.
'You must look beneath the surface,' replied Matteo, who had begun to take a very serious view of things in general. I used to tell him that he would have a call some day and end up as a shaven monk.
'Let us amuse ourselves,' I said, taking Matteo by the arm, and dragging him along in search of prey. We fixed on a seller of cheap jewellery—a huge woman, with a treble chin and a red face dripping with perspiration. We felt quite sorry for her, and went to console her.
'It is a very cold day,' I remarked to her, whereupon she bulged out her cheeks and blew a blast that nearly carried me away.
She took up a necklace of beads and offered it to Matteo for his lady love. We began to bargain,offering her just a little lower than she asked, and then, as she showed signs of coming down, made her a final offer a little lower still. At last she seized a broom and attacked us, so that we had to fly precipitately.
I had never felt in such high spirits. I offered to race Matteo in every way he liked—riding, running and walking—but he refused, brutally telling me that I was frivolous. Then we went home. I found that Checco had just been hearing mass, and he was as solemn and silent as a hangman. I went about lamenting that I could get no one to talk to me, and at last took refuge with the children, who permitted me to join in their games, so that, at 'hide-and-seek' and 'blind man's buff,' I thoroughly amused myself till dinner-time. We ate together, and I tried not to be silenced, talking the greatest nonsense I could think of; but the others sat like owls and did not listen, so that I too began to feel depressed....
The frowns of the others infected me, and the dark pictures that were before their eyes appeared to mine; my words failed me and we all three sat gloomily. I had started with an excellent appetite, but again the others influenced me, and I could not eat. We toyed with our food, wishing the dinner over. I moved about restlessly, but Checco was quite still, leaning his face on his hand, occasionally raising his eyes and fixing them on Matteo or me. One of the servants dropped some plates; we all started at the sound, and Checco uttered an oath; I had never heard him swear before. He was so pale I wondered if he were nervous. I asked the time: still two hours before we could start. How long wouldthey take to pass! I had been longing to finish dinner, so that I might get up and go away. I felt an urgent need for walking, but when the meal was over a heaviness came to my legs and I could do nothing but sit and look at the other two. Matteo filled his tankard and emptied it several times, but after awhile, as he reached over for the wine, he saw Checco's eyes fixed on the flagon, with a frown on his forehead, and the curious raising of one corner of the mouth, which was a sign he was displeased. Matteo withdrew his hand and pushed his mug away; it rolled over and fell on the floor. We heard the church bell strike the hour; it was three o'clock. Would it never be time! We sat on and on. At last Checco rose and began walking up and down the room. He called for his children. They came, and he began talking to them in a husky voice, so that they could scarcely understand him. Then, as if frightened of himself, he took them in his arms, one after the other, and kissed them convulsively, passionately, as one kisses a woman; and he told them to go. He stifled a sob. We sat on and on. I counted the minutes. I had never lived so long before. It was awful....
At last!
It was half-past three; we got up and took our hats.
'Now, my friends!' said Checco, drawing a breath of relief, 'our worst troubles are over.'
We followed him out of the house. I noticed the jewelled hilt of his dagger, and every now and then I saw him put his hand to it to see that it was really there. We passed along the streets, saluted by thepeople. A beggar stopped us, and Checco threw him a piece of gold.
'God bless you!' said the man.
And Checco thanked him fervently.
We walked along the narrow streets in the shade, but as we turned a corner the sun came full on our faces. Checco stopped a moment and opened his arms, as if to receive the sunbeams in his embrace, and, turning to us, with a smile, he said,—
'A good omen!'
A few more steps brought us to the piazza.