Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

prologue, chapter 4

At that moment a young man with his clothes torn, his hair and his beard uncultivated, came to the palace.

The servants rejected him. There was more to the mind at the time.

"How?" cried he, "Do you not recognize me? I'm Andrea."

"Andrea?"

They looked at him well, they recognized him, they drew him inside, repeating between wonder, pleasure and pain: "Andrea? How did you get so...?"

The voice spread among the servants: "Andrea is back!"

They went one after the other in the kitchen, where they had led the newcomer, to see him, full of wonder and pleasure and each one exclaimed: "Andrea!... how did you come? Donde? Ah! in what moment it happens!... The poor master, the poor master! How did it go?... Were you with him?... Wasn't it true that you were with him?"

The cook had placed before him something to refresh; Andrea ate like a hungry man and answered monosillabes to all those questions. Maddalena had come, too, moved.

"Ah, if you knew, the poor mistress!"

They informed him, all speaking at once; the mistress had grieved; "A beautiful child, if you saw him; all the portrait of the master, good me dead. But the news of the misfortune!..." Now he was with the doctor! poor lady! What a fever!... What a pain!... He took the riding stable Don Raimondo... But he had to tell how the master's misfortune had happened...

"When Mrs. Duchess knows you're here... Poor thing, what a blow! Oh, of course he'll want to know everything! I will prepare it, little by little."

Don Raimondo was warned that Andrea had arrived, one of the valets who had followed "out of kingdom" his Excellency the Duke, holy memory. This appearance of a man who had been present at the death of Don Emanuele surprised him and bewildered him without knowing the cause, however he showed great interest in seeing him. He also wondered where and how Andrew had come; he thought that he could well be the rower freed from the Tuscan prisons, who had given Florence the news of the wretched death of the duke.

He ordered Andrea to be sent.

The young man, who had recovered, just had time to wear a more decent dress and hastened to revere the knight Albamonte. He told him that he had arrived for a few hours, with a tartan, from Naples; to Naples he had come from Florence, traveling a bit on foot, a bit on horseback, for goodness sake. Exactly from him the governor of Livorno had known the capture of the tartan of Marseille and the death of the duke. Don Raimondo wanted to know how everything went. Andrea's story confirmed with more details what the Viceroy had told him. If any shadow of doubt could have remained in the heart of Don Raimondo, Andrea's account dissipated it.

"Before he died, his Excellency the duke wanted me to remove from his neck a silver chain with a small medallion and said to me: "Andrea, if ever you will be redeemed or you can escape, go to Palermo and give this medallion to the duchess, to put it in my son's neck!" And I have it here, Excellency; I have kept that memory of my good master, and I have come only to obey his last will..."

"Unfortunately," said Don Raimondo, "the Duchess is gravely ill and will not be able to receive you. Give me that medallion, I'll give it to the Duchess."

"Your Excellency forgive," answered Andrew; "I must carry out the last orders of my master, scrupulously; if I can not for now, it means that I will wait. I've had that deposit for three months. I can keep it for a few more days. I'll wait, Your Excellency.

Don Raimondo bit his lips.

"Do as you please," he replied; "but I warn you that you will wait for a piece."

Andrew bowed down, went out, sat in the anteroom, where a minute later he reached Maddalena. And they talked a little bit about it. among them had always been a certain sympathy; just as Andrew was the servant of trust of Don Emanuele, so Magdalena was the waitress of trust of woman Aloisia and their condition had put them beside them, had united them in devotion to their masters. Now, seeing each other after many months and in painful moments, they told each other their pains and comforted each other.

Doctor Don Domenico, coming out at that point, interrupted their speeches.

Maddalena asked him: "Forgive your Ladyship; how did you find the Duchess?..."

"Eh, there's nothing to be happy about... It's serious..."

"Do you think your lordship that Mrs. Duchess has to suffer if you see this young man here?..."

Don Domenico who didn't know him asked her with his eyes: "And why should she suffer from it?"

"Andrea here, was the lackey of his Excellency the Duke, and gathered his last will... He's been here for a few hours."

Don Domenico looked at him with benevolent curiosity, then, as he answered himself, he said: "Who knows?... Maybe he could... Yes, yes, a reaction."

He left murmuring these words, which Magdalene interpreted in her own way.

"Now I will tell His Excellency..."

"The knight Don Raimondo almost dissuaded me."

"Let me do it. I bet Mrs. Duchess will have some consolation to see you."

Donna Aloisia was still struck by a severe blow; the fever was burning in her blood, but she seemed calmer. One word gave her great strength.

The doctor had told her: "Think, Your Excellency, that now she remains alone to that creature and that if a misfortune were to seize your Excellency, that orphan would remain at the mercy of the case. Your Excellency must be preserved for his creature. It is the best way to honor the memory of the virtuous and illustrious Mr. Duke."

Save yourself for your son! Yes, she wanted it, with all her heart, with all the strength of her will. That idea, comprehending in all its spirit, promoted a great reaction and gradually instilled a new force. Living! wanted and had to live!... Didn't she hear the baby's vagitives?

Maddalena had returned to the room, ready for every nod. Donna Aloisia I order her to bring the child to her; she wanted to keep him with her, tight to her heart.

Magdalene conducted the speech skillfully; in giving her the child, she expressed a wish: "May she grow beautiful, luxuriant, to the consolation of your Excellency, and worthy son of a valiant and great lord; and may the holy soul of her father always watch over him!

Woman Aloisia with her eyes full of tears, tenderly kissed her son.

"Oh, Maddalena," he murmured, "what a misfortune this is!..."

"Your Excellency be consoled, because Mr. Duke has made a glorious death and enjoys in heaven the prize of his faith..."

Donna Aloisia was still unaware of the circumstances under which her husband died; Maddalena's words, if she was reminded of other tears, aroused her desire to know at least how and where Don Emanuele died.

"Do you know?" he asked Maddalena.

"Excellency, yes. But there are those who know it better than I do."

"Don Raimondo?" murmured with an accent of inexplicable aversion.

"No, Your Excellency, someone who was present and gathered the last words of His Excellency the Duke..."

"Where is he?" cried Woman Aloisiah earnestly, and trying to rise up; "Where is he? I want to see him now. Is he here?"

"Here."

"Who is it, Maddalena?... Tell me who he is..."

"Your Excellency knows him, he is one of the most devoted servants... the most devoted, perhaps..."

"Andrea?"

"Exactly, Your Excellency."

"Andrea! here?... Then go, go! Make him come... right away!..."

"If your Excellency waves like this, he will poison the innocent. Have you heard from the doctor?..."

"I'll be okay; go!"

Shortly afterward, Andrea, led by Maddalena, entered visibly moved; barely holding a weeping knot, went to kneel before the bed of woman Aloisia and kissed her hand.

"Andrea!" muttered the Duchess with her face flooded with tears.

For a moment the emotion prevented all three from speaking; how many thoughts, how many images in the silence that united those three souls!

Donna Aloisia for the first said, "Tell me everything, Andrea."

He told how they had started from Marseille, in early October, to return to Palermo. They had the thriving wind, the calm sea: they had sailed without any accident, had taken water to Ajaccio and resumed the journey, when at the height of the chief Asinara, two Algerian galleys, who perhaps kept hidden among the rocks of which the coast is jagged, attacked the tartan. The Duke, following the impulses of his generous heart, wanted to order the defense, but the crew and other travelers opposed: it was the same that had to be massacred unnecessarily; they preferred to surrender. They were loaded with chains and the tartan towed. The prisons were well armed. The duke and his two valets, sniffing in them good prey, had been transferred to one of the jails, the captain, but Don Emanuele was not a man to be haired to the prisoner's part. During the crossing he conceived a crazy design; lift up the crew of the convicts, break the stumps, jump on the crew, kill the captain, take possession of the jail and give on the other. He began to talk about it among the convicts, who wished no better than to regain their freedom and one night, while the jails were silently running through dead lights, he and the two valets were able to break the stumps, and stood up, throwing themselves over the guards who were watching in the aft castle, disarming them and throwing them into the sea. Then there arose a cry: the convicts tried to free themselves; someone who had broken the chain wielded the pieces like a weapon. They echoed blunders. Don Emanuele stood up against the captain, ripped the ax from his hands and smashed his skull, but he was surrounded by a furious mob... The cry, the blows, called back the other jail that approached quickly. The struggle was short, desperate: struck by two archibugates the duke overwhelmed on the tolda; the other valet lay beside him dead; Andrew was hurt slightly to one shoulder.

The duke still had a few moments of life: he called Andrea, said to him: "Better to die than to go into slavery. Say these words to my son when thou seest him, and he shall be great. Bring my greetings to woman Aloisia... Tell her that I die thinking of her... and my son, tell him... that he always wears the medallion that hangs from my neck for forty-seven years... Take it and bring it to him."

I'll spy soon after. The rebels were submissive, loaded with new chains, beaten, tormented with hunger throughout the journey. The next day, in the evening, they arrived in Algiers. Andrea, who was cured, was sent to row in jail.

Donna Aloisia listened to the story without losing its syllable; only silent tears came down her cheeks and a slight tremor of her arm pressed her creature at her side.

When Andrew had finished, he asked him, "What about the medallion?"

"Here it is, Your Excellency."

If she took him out of her womb and gave him to woman Aloisia; she kissed him, weeping, then she put him around the neck of her creature murmuring: "Behold, my son, this is the blessing of your father!... May he always protect you..."

All that day woman Aloisia was quiet, immersed in a deep melancholy, with her son narrow to the breast; her pain had become more intimate, more calm. She now seemed to have to vote for that creature, as if she really saw her husband relive in it.

When the doctor and Don Raimondo came to visit her in the evening, they were surprised to find her somewhat more relieved. Don Domenico wished himself well, but Don Raimondo frowned on his eyebrows as displeased. What had made that improvement?

The explanation gave the woman Aloisia; she herself told her brother-in-law that she had received other news of Don Emanuele...

"Andrea, perhaps?" exclaimed Don Raimondo.

"Ah! did you know?" said Woman Aloisia.

"Yes, I had already seen him, but I had forbidden him to enter..."

"Why?" asked the Duchess not without a tone of resentment.

"Because I expected the emotion would hurt you..."

"Instead," answered woman Aloisia with a sad smile, "it did me good, as you see... You should have let him in sooner since he was bringing his father's blessing to his creature..."

An hour later, he returned to his studio with triumphant air and called Andrea and harshly said to him: "You have nothing more to do here..."

"She's sending me away?"

"I don't need your services..."

Andrew bowed his head, as he was struck; he stuttered as an excuse: "If he had not made me call his Excellency the Duchess, I..."

"It doesn't concern me..."

"I obeyed the mistress..."

"The only master here is me!..."

"Your Excellency forgive me; why don't you let me live here, in a corner, next to my master?... Do it for Mr. Duke's memory."

"Get out of here!" answered Fr. Raimondo and turned his back on him.

Andrea understood that it was useless to insist. With a narrow heart he went out of pain, but stopped a little in the anteroom, wanting, before leaving, to see Magdalena to warn her. Maddalena was no less surprised and grieved; what most surprised her and grieved her, was that tone of master that Don Raimondo had assumed and that sounded in her ear as a threat.