Saracinesca Part 23

"No one speaks of anything else," returned the Prince, apologetically.

"Besides, I do not see what was to be done."

"You should have stopped it," answered Corona, her dark eyes gleaming with righteous indignation. "You should have prevented it at any price, if not in the name of religion, which forbids it as a crime, at least in the name of decency--as being Don Giovanni's father."

"You speak strong words, d.u.c.h.essa," said the Prince, evidently annoyed at her tone.

"If I speak strongly, it is because I think you acted shamefully in permitting this disgraceful butchery."

Saracinesca suddenly lost his temper, as he frequently did.

"Madam," he said, "it is certainly not for you to accuse me of crime, lack of decency, and what you are pleased to call disgraceful butchery, seeing who was the probable cause of the honourable encounter which you characterise in such tasteful language."

"Honourable indeed!" said Corona, very scornfully. "Let that pa.s.s. Who, pray, is more to blame than you? Who is the probable cause?"

"Need I tell you?" asked the old man, fixing his flas.h.i.+ng eyes upon her.

"What do you mean?" inquired Corona, turning white, and her voice trembling between her anger and her emotion.

"I may be wrong," said the Prince, "but I believe I am right. I believe the duel was fought on your account."

"On my account!" repeated Corona, half rising from her chair in her indignation. Then she sank back again, and added, very coldly, "If you have come here to insult me, Prince, I will send for my husband."

"I beg your pardon, d.u.c.h.essa," said old Saracinesca. "It is very far from my intention to insult you."

"And who has told you this abominable lie?" asked Corona, still very angry.

"No one, upon my word."

"Then how dare you--"

"Because I have reason to believe that you are the only woman alive for whom my son would engage in a quarrel."

"It is impossible," cried Corona. "I will never believe that Don Giovanni could--" She checked herself.

"Don Giovanni Saracinesca is a gentleman, madam," said the old Prince, proudly. "He keeps his own counsel. I have come by the information without any evidence of it from his lips."

"Then I am at a loss to understand you," returned the d.u.c.h.essa. "I must beg you either to explain your extraordinary language, or else to leave me."

Corona d'Astrardente was a match for any man when she was angry. But old Saracinesca, though no diplomatist, was a formidable adversary, from his boldness and determination to discover the truth at any price.

"It is precisely because, at the risk of offending you, I desired an explanation, that I have intruded myself upon you to-day," he answered.

"Will you permit me one question before I leave you?"

"Provided it is not an insulting one, I will answer it," replied Corona.

"Do you know anything of the circ.u.mstances which led to this morning's encounter?"

"Certainly not," Corona answered, hotly. "I a.s.sure you most solemnly,"

she continued in calmer tones, "that I am wholly ignorant of it. I suppose you have a right to be told that."

"I, on my part, a.s.sure you, upon my word, that I know no more than you yourself, excepting this: on some provocation, concerning which he will not speak, my son seized Del Ferice by the throat and used strong words to him. No one witnessed the scene. Del Ferice sent the challenge.

My son could find no one to act for him and applied to me, as was quite right that he should. There was no apology possible--Giovanni had to give the man satisfaction. You know as much as I know now."

"That does not help me to understand why you accuse me of having caused the quarrel," said Corona. "What have I to do with Del Ferice, poor man?"

"This--any one can see that you are as indifferent to my son as to any other man. Every one knows that the d.u.c.h.essa d'Astrardente is above suspicion."

Corona raised her head proudly and stared at Saracinesca.

"But, on the other hand, every one knows that my son loves you madly--can you yourself deny it?"

"Who dares to say it?" asked Corona, her anger rising afresh.

"Who sees, dares. Can you deny it?"

"You have no right to repeat such hearsay tales to me," answered Corona.

But the blush rose to her pale dark cheeks, and she suddenly dropped her eyes.

"Can you deny it, d.u.c.h.essa?" asked the Prince a third time, insisting roughly.

"Since you are so certain, why need you care for my denial?" inquired Corona.

"d.u.c.h.essa, you must forgive me," answered Saracinesca, his tone suddenly softening. "I am rough, probably rude; but I love my son dearly. I cannot bear to see him running into a dangerous and hopeless pa.s.sion, from which he may issue only to find himself grown suddenly old and bitter, disappointed and miserable for the rest of his life. I believe you to be a very good woman; I cannot look at you and doubt the truth of anything you tell me. If he loves you, you have influence over him. If you have influence, use it for his good; use it to break down this mad love of his, to show him his own folly--to save him, in short, from his fate. Do you understand me? Do I ask too much?"

Corona understood well enough--far too well. She knew the whole extent of Giovanni's love for her, and, what old Saracinesca never guessed, the strength of her own love for him, for the sake of which she would do all that a woman could do. There was a long pause after the old Prince had spoken. He waited patiently for an answer.

"I understand you--yes," she said at last. "If you are right in your surmises, I should have some influence over your son. If I can advise him, and he will take my advice, I will give him the best counsel I can.

You have placed me in a very embarra.s.sing position, and you have shown little courtesy in the way you have spoken to me; but I will try to do as you request me, if the opportunity offers, for the sake of--of turning what is very bad into something which may at last be good."

"Thank you, thank you, d.u.c.h.essa!" cried the Prince. "I will never forget--"

"Do not thank me," said Corona, coldly. "I am not in a mood to appreciate your grat.i.tude. There is too much blood of those honest gentlemen upon your hands."

"Pardon me, d.u.c.h.essa, I wish there were on my hands and head the blood of that gentleman you call honest--the gentleman who twice tried to murder my son this morning, and twice nearly succeeded."

"What!" cried Corona, in sudden terror.

"That fellow thrust at Giovanni once to kill him while they were halting and his sword was hanging lowered in his hand; and once again he threw himself upon his knee and tried to stab him in the body--which is a dastardly trick not permitted in any country. Even in duelling, such things are called murder; and it is their right name."

Corona was very pale. Giovanni's danger had been suddenly brought before her in a very vivid light, and she was horror-struck at the thought of it.

"Is--is Don Giovanni very badly wounded?" she asked.

"No, thank heaven; he will be wall in a week. But either one of those attempts might have killed him; and he would have died, I think--pardon me, no insult this time--I think, on your account. Do you see why for him I dread this attachment to you, which leads him to risk his life at every turn for a word about you? Do you see why I implore you to take the matter into your serious consideration, and to use your influence to bring him to his senses?"

"I see; but in this question of the duel you have no proof that I was concerned."

"No,--no proof, perhaps. I will not weary you with surmises; but even if it was not for you this time, you see that it might have been."