The Fool Errant Part 28

"My dear count," said I, "Donna Aurelia, as you know, is an old friend of mine. We had much to say. I will walk with you by all means. But your friend here----"

He laughed. "My friend will not disturb us. Let me make two gentlemen acquainted, who should know each other, at least, by name. Marchese, let me present you to my friend Mr. Francis Strelley. Don Francis, be pleased to salute the ill.u.s.trious Marchese Semifonte."

I began to smell mischief--indeed I had smelt it already. I knew that the count was no longer my friend; and as for Semifonte, no doubt he would murder me if he durst. Here, then, were these two worthies in league, and waiting for me in a lonely place. Lucky that I had my sword.

In the meantime Semifonte raised his hat and bowed; I returned the salutation and said that I had had the advantage of meeting his lords.h.i.+p already. To that he made no reply. We then walked on together--I on the inside, next to me the count, the marchese on the outside.

The count began by congratulating me upon my escape from Florence, and from what might have been a most awkward affair. "Luckily for me," he added, "I was out of the city at the time, or, between my duty and my inclination, I should have found myself in a dilemma."

To that I replied that it was sufficient for me to be sure that he had been absent. "If I had known that Donna Aurelia was still in the Villa San Giorgio," I went on, "at the time when I was hiding from your excellency's servants, I believe I should have pushed my importunities so far as her door."

"You would have asked Donna Aurelia to interest herself in the cause of your charming--your too charming----" I could not see his face, but could have sworn that he was showing his teeth.

"Not at all, count," I said, "not at all. But I should have asked the Grand Duke's princ.i.p.al Minister to remember that he had betrayed an innocent girl's whereabouts to those who sought her ruin, and to give fair play to him who had risked his life to protect her."

"You wrong me, sir," he said warmly; "you accuse me of treachery. Of that I am incapable. As for my distinguished friend here----"

"Let your distinguished friend deny that he purchased Virginia Strozzi from her parents," I retorted; "that he has sought her ever since--that he sent Palamone to murder me--that he still intends some mischief. Let him deny these things, and I speak no more of them."

The marchese said not a word. The count took up the tale.

"Let me, in my turn, trouble you with a few denials. I do not deny that Donna Aurelia was in Florence earlier than you supposed, nor that I kept you in ignorance of it. It was judged better on all accounts. Father Carnesecchi was of that opinion. I believe that the lady had no desire to see you. Perhaps you will pardon my franchise when I say that it would have been singular if she had. She desired to be accommodated with her husband--and that was done. My part in that affair, which I am very ready to defend, need not concern you, though (if I remember rightly) you professed yourself anxious on that account. Now for my denials. I deny flatly that I did any service to my distinguished friend at your expense. I deny it point-blank. And I deny that, when--not for the first time--you took the law into your own hands, I purposely removed myself from the city. That suspicion of yours is not worth so many words. What should my purpose be? What object could I have? Why should I become your enemy?"

"That, sir," I said, "is what I intend to find out. Be so good as to add these to your denials if you can. Will you deny that you witnessed the performance of the Donne Furlane in Siena on the occasion of the Grand Duke's birthday last year?"

He said, "I remember it, and a remarkable performance it was."

"And did you see it in company of Donna Aurelia?"

"I did."

"And did you give yourself the pain to send officers to arrest an actor called De' Pazzi?"

He was silent. I said then:

"And did you not know that I was that actor? Now, Count Giraldi, since you cannot deny these facts, I will ask you why you are my enemy? For you are not a man who acts without reason."

We were upon the river bank a little short of the Rubiconte Bridge. The water rippled languidly over the muddy reaches, but the rush of the weir was audible. Not another sound was to be heard, not a soul was in sight.

We three stopped--I was facing the two men, my back to the low river wall. I heard Giraldi's breath come short and whistling through his fine nose; I heard Semifonte breathing through his mouth--shorter breaths--he was panting.

Count Giraldi spoke, using great command of himself, measuring his words.

"I think I will tell you the facts," he said, "I think that will be best. You can then judge my actions, and, as a reasonable man, govern your own by them.

"Man of the world as I am," he continued, "I must confess that you surprised me upon our first acquaintance. I could not tell whether I was consorting with a very refined profligate or (forgive me) a very singular fool. You came into the city in search (as you told me) of a lady with whom you had had an abortive affair--but you came in company with an attractive person, in a relations.h.i.+p with her which could only bear one interpretation--No, no, you must hear me out, if you please,"

he said peremptorily, stopping my protest before it could be framed in words. "Upon your representations I interested myself in Donna Aurelia.

I judged her attractive by your report; I found that your discernment was even better than I had expected. She came to the convent in some distress, I saw her, she was charming, she charmed me. She was in a chastened mood, subdued, softly melancholy. I believe--indeed, I know-- that she had a tenderness for you. Well, I was prepared to be loyal, no one is to say in my presence that I am a false friend. I WAS loyal until--Pest!" cried he, "what did I find? I found that, while you professed the most extravagant regard for the lady, you asked nothing better for yourself than that she should return to the arms of her horrible old spouse! I found also that you had recovered possession of your straight young Contadina by means which were more ingenious than lawful--that she was in your lodgings--your friend--your----"

Semifonte here gave a harsh guttural cry. Giraldi spoke to him in an undertone, then resumed:

"You may remember my interest in that young woman's appearance and manner, when I chanced to find her in your lodgings in the dress of a fine lady. You remember that you then told me her history? Believe me when I say that I did not tell my ill.u.s.trious friend here of the adventure. He was told, it is true, but not by me. If it will satisfy you, I will take my oath to that. I had no intention of depriving you of your mistress; far from it, that would have destroyed my particular object, which, I will now confess, was to take your place in Donna Aurelia's regard, for which you would not ask. I own also that I did not care to have you in her neighbourhood, and that I very much desired to get rid of you. Why? Because I could see that Donna Aurelia was in love with you."

He paused while I admired his affectation of candour. Presently he went on: "When my friend here proposed to secure your mistress by means of the Capuchin I gave him a free hand; that is to say, I gave you no warning, I admit that. Why again? Because I knew you, Don Francis, and was certain that you would never allow a hand to be laid upon her. I was right, you did not. You did precisely what I desired. You as good as killed the Capuchin and you went into hiding. I wished to keep you there, and so I did. If I had not sent Carabineers into the Piazza--if I had been accessible to your messengers--you would have been fatally in my way. You were never in danger of arrest or imprisonment--but you believed that you were, and that served my purpose.

"You left our State. All was well until you entered it again. I admit that when I saw you in Siena I was in Donna Aurelia's company, and feared the effect of your apparition upon her. She did not recognise you, but I did. I confess that I had you arrested, and a.s.sure you that you would never have gone to Volterra, but to Leghorn. You would have been placed upon an English s.h.i.+p and sent to your own country, where your peculiar qualities would have had freer play. Lastly, I admit that I was vexed at your reappearance here in circ.u.mstances of prosperity which forbade my touching you. I admit that I have resented this late visit of yours to Donna Aurelia and am still smarting at the length of it. Ridiculous, but so it is! I know that she has a feeling for you--I am not secure--I wish you to go. You are really unconscionable, you must let me say. You have deprived the marchese of a possible mistress, and now you seem inclined to deprive me of an actual mistress. You are exorbitant, my young sir----"

"Stop there, Count Giraldi," I said in a voice which I myself hardly knew for my own. "Stop there. Repeat your last words. You say that I am for robbing you--of what?"

"Donna Aurelia," said he deliberately, "has done me great honour. I am her accepted cavalier. She has accorded me the highest favour. She occupies my villa--the doctor is my humble servant. You will not wish me to enlarge upon this?"

"You are a liar," I said, "you are a liar," and struck him full in the face with my open hand. His white face was nearly all I could see of him.

He recoiled--he had not expected it, I am sure. At that moment, before he could recover his self-possession, Semifonte gave another hoa.r.s.e cry and leapt at me with a dagger. I caught him under the arm-pit, closed with him and threw him easily. His back gave at the first jerk--there was no strength in him--and when he was on the ground I disarmed him with ease and bade him lie still. I put my foot upon his neck, and drew my sword. "If you stir, a.s.sa.s.sin, I shall run you through," I said.

"Now, Count Giraldi, I am at your service."

"You are bolder than I thought, and readier," the count said; "but you have gone too far, and I shall meet you as soon as you please. I don't know whether you believe that this has been part of my plan, or whether you care to hear me deny it. If you believe me a liar, you can easily believe me a.s.sa.s.sin also. I will bid you good-night, Don Francis. We know where to find each other."

I told him that my friend, Mr. Robert Malcolm, of the English Legation, would receive any friend of his, at any hour--the sooner the better. He went away.

I removed my foot from the marchese's neck and told him to get up.

"You see, my lord, what your friend thinks of you by the way he has disavowed your performance and left you in the mud," I said. "Give yourself the trouble to go to your own house." I gave him the road and waited while he walked swiftly away. I incline to believe that he was mad, this miserable man. He said nothing--not one word--but did exactly as he was told. I could barely make out the outline of him in the darkness, and could not see his eyes. I know that they were white and scared.

CHAPTER XLV

THE MEETING

Bob Malcolm came to see me early in the morning with news that the count's cartel had been delivered in form. He told me that I might as well fight the Grand Duke--"For if you kill, Frank, if you kill," says he, "you'll be in a fortress for life; and if you don't kill, why, then you're a dead man. Body of a dog, as they say here, you're a dead man either way." Good Bob was much put about.

I did my best to hearten him. I said that I would take the risk of Volterra, as I had taken it before, and should do my best to kill the count. He was, I said, a lying blasphemer whose death would be an act of justice. Malcolm whistled.

"This is a devilish sharp-set affair," says he; "for that is just how the marchese put his man's frame of mind. He stipulates, it seems, that you fight to the death. Look out for him too, Frank," he added. "He is dangerous. I never liked him; and to-day he looked like a sick wolf."

"Who is your marchese?" I asked without interest.

"Semifonte," says Bob, "and as mad as a March hare." I got up at once. I said, "I shall kill Count Giraldi."

We met in the Cascine at six o'clock of a foggy morning; the light bad, the ground heavy from a night's rain. The marchese wore black, I remember, and looked horrible; a wan, doomed face, a mouth drawn down at one corner, a slavered, untidy red beard; and those wide fish-eyes of his which seemed to see nothing. Count Giraldi bore himself gallantly, as he always did. I was extremely cool.

We stripped and faced each other, the swords were produced and measured; we saluted, and the count at once began a furious attack. I think that on any ordinary occasion he would have proved the better man; he was fully as strong as myself, and as good in the wind--for he lived temperately; and he had had more experience. But to-day, as I soon discovered, he was flurried and made mistakes; twice in the first five minutes I could have disarmed him, and once I very nearly had his life.

He was foolhardy to an extraordinary degree; his eyes were unsteady; it seemed to me that he was thinking of something else; and before we had been long engaged I discovered that he was thinking of two things, the first, his own certain death, the second, the state of mind of the Marchese Semifonte. My finding out of the second of these made me resolute to bring about the first of them; otherwise, so wildly was he at work I don't believe I could have brought myself to kill such a tyro as he was proving.

The fact which determined me to kill him was this. I had pushed him vigorously, after parrying with ease half a dozen of his frenzied attacks--I had pushed him, and he had given ground as usual; but, although I did not perceive it at the time, in giving way he had worked back towards his second, who had not budged; so that, as I advanced, I got to be actually within wounding distance of the marchese. Bob Malcolm ought to have knocked our swords up, no doubt; but he did not. In the full tide of my attack, then, when I had my man almost at my mercy, I felt a sudden and sharp pain in the side, and at the same moment heard Malcolm's cry, "Ah, b.l.o.o.d.y villain, none of that!" Almost immediately I heard the clash of swords, and turning my head for a moment, saw our seconds engaged. In that same instant of forgetfulness Giraldi was upon me, lunged furiously and ran his blade through my sword arm. There was an a.s.sa.s.sination, planned and nearly achieved!