Gerald Fitzgerald: The Chevalier Part 21

What could add to the combination?'

'The secret of an ill.u.s.trious birth,' whispered the Marquise.

'I lean to the other view. I 'd rather fancy nature had some subtle design of her own, some deep-wrought scheme to work out by this strange counterfeit.'

'Yes, Gherardi,' as the youth looked suddenly around; 'yes, Gherardi,'

said she, 'we were talking of you, and of your likeness to one with whom we were both acquainted.'

'If it be to that prince whose picture I saw last night,' replied he, 'I suspect the resemblance goes no further than externals. There can be, indeed, little less like a princely station than mine.'

'Ah, boy!' broke in the poet, 'there will never be in all your history as sad a fate as has befallen him.'

'I envy one whose fortune admits of reverses!' said Gerald peevishly.

'Better be storm-tossed than never launched.'

'I declare,' whispered the Marquise, 'as he spoke there, I could have believed it was Monsieur de Saint George himself I was listening to.

Those little wayward bursts of temper----'

'Summer lightnings,' broke in Alfieri.

'Just so: they mean nothing, they herald nothing:

'"They flash like anger o'er the sky, And then dissolve in tears."'

'True,' said the poet; 'but, harmless as these elemental changes seem, we forget how they affect others--what blights they often leave in their track:

'"The sport the G.o.ds delight in Makes mortals grieve below."'

'It was Fabri wrote that line,' said Gerald, catching at the quotation.

'Yes, Madame la Marquise,' said Alfieri, answering the quickly darted glances of the lady's eyes, 'this youth has read all sorts of authors.

A certain Signor Gabriel, with whom he sojourned months long in the Maremma, introduced him to Voltaire, Diderot, and Rousseau: his own discursive tastes added others to the list.'

'Gabriel! Gabriel! It could not be that it was----' and here she bent over and whispered a word in Alfieri's ear.

A sudden start and an exclamation of surprise burst from the poet.

'Tell us what your friend Gabriel was like.'

'I can tell you how he described himself,' said Gerald. 'He said he was:

"Un sanglier marque de pet.i.te verole."'

'Oh, then, it was he!' exclaimed the Marquise. 'Tell us, I pray you, how fortune came to play you so heartless a trick as to make you this man's friend?'

Half reluctantly, almost resentfully, Gerald replied to this question by relating the incidents that had befallen him in the Maremma, and how he had subsequently lived for months the companion of this strange a.s.sociate.

'What marvellous lessons of evil, boy, has he not instilled into you! Tell me frankly, has he not made you suspectful of every one--distrusting all friends.h.i.+p, disowning all obligations, making affection seem a mockery, and woman a cheat?'

'I have heard good and bad from his lips. If he spoke hastily of the world at times, mayhap it had not treated him with too much kindness.

Indeed he said as much to me, and that it was not his fault that he thought so meanly of mankind.'

'What poison this to pour into a young heart!' broke in Alfieri. 'The cattle upon the thousand hills eat not of noxious herbage; their better instincts protect them, even where seductive fruits and flowers woo their tastes. It is man alone is beguiled by false appearances, and this out of the very subtlety of his own nature. The plague-spot of the heart is distrust!'

'These are better teachings, boy, than Signor Gabriel's,' said the lady.

'You know him, then?' asked Gerald.

'I have little doubt that we are speaking of the same person; and if so, not I alone, but all Europe knows him.'

Gerald burned to inquire further, to know who and what this mysterious man was, how he had earned the terrible reputation that attended him, and what charges were alleged against him. He could not dare, however, to put questions in such a presence, and he sat moodily thinking over the issue.

Diverging from the high-road, they now entered a pathway which led through the vineyards and the olive groves, and, being narrow, Gerald found himself side by side with the Marquise, without any other near.

Here, at length, his curiosity mastered all reserve, and plucking up courage for the effort, he said--

'If my presumption were not too bold, madame, I would deem it a great favour to be permitted to ask you something of this Signor Gabriel. I know and feel that, do what I will, reason how I may, reject what I can, yet still his words have eaten down deep into my heart; and if I cannot put some antidote there against their influence, that they will sway me even against myself,'

'First, let me hear how he represented himself to you. Was he as a good man grossly tricked and cheated by the world, his candour imposed on, his generosity betrayed? Did he picture a n.o.ble nature basely trifled with?'

'No, no,' broke in Gerald; 'he said, indeed, at first he felt disposed to like his fellow-men, but that the impulse was unprofitable; that the true philosophy was unbelief. Still he avowed that he devoted himself to every indulgence; that happiness meant pleasure, pleasure excess; that out of the convulsive throes of the wildest debauchery, great and glorious sensations, enn.o.bling thoughts spring--just as the volcano in full eruption throws up gold amid the lava: and he bade me, if I would know myself, to taste of this same existence.'

'Poor boy, these were trying temptations,'

'Not so,' broke in Gerald proudly; 'I wanted to be something better and greater than this,'

'And what would you be?' asked the Marquise, as she turned a look of interest on him.

'Oh, if a heart's yearning could do it,' cried Gerald warmly, 'I would be like him who rides yonder; I would be one whose words would give voice to many an unspoken emotion--who could make sad men hopeful, and throw over the dreariest waste of existence the soft, mild light of ideal happiness.'

She shook her head, half-sorrowfully, and said, 'Genius is the gift of one, or two, or three, in a whole century!' 'Then I would be a soldier,' cried the boy; 'I would shed my blood for a good cause. A stout heart and a strong arm are not rare gifts, but they often win rare honours.'

'Count Alfieri has been thinking about you,' said she, in a tone half confidential. 'He told me that, if you showed a disposition for it, he would place you at the University of Sienna, where you could follow your studies until such time as a career should present itself.'

'To what do I owe this gracious interest in my fate, lady?' asked he eagerly. 'Is it my casual resemblance to the prince he was so fond of?'

'So fond!' exclaimed she; then, as quickly correcting herself, she added: 'No, not altogether that--though, perhaps, the likeness may have served you,'

'How kind and good of him to think of one so friendless!' muttered Gerald, half aloud.

'Is the proposal one you would like to close with? Tell me frankly, Gherardi, for we are speaking now in all frankness!'

'Perhaps I may only lose another friend if I say no!' said he timidly; and then, with bolder accents, added: 'Let me own it, madame, I have no taste for study--at least such studies as these. My heart is set upon the world of action: I would like to win a name, no matter how brief the time left me to enjoy it.'

'Shall I tell you _my_ plan--'

'_Yours!_' broke he in. 'Surely you too have not deigned to remember me?'

'Yes; the Count interested me strongly in you. This morning we talked of little else at breakfast, and up to the moment we overtook you at the gate. His generous ardour in your behalf filled me with a like zeal, and we discussed together many a plan for your future; and mine was, that you should enter the service of the King----'