Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

part three, chapter 4

Blasco spent the rest of the night at the girl's bedside holding her hands. She wanted her savior to stand beside her: She had taken his hands and curled herself in the bed so that her boss was almost in contact with Blasco's humerus. And she fell asleep like this; the tiredness, the terrible emotions of that night had prostrated her. Now, in her sleep, a wild fever lit her blood and stabbed her arteries. Several times Blasco had tried to get out of the room, but Violante, suddenly raised up, held him by his hands, murmuring:

"No, no... I'm scared!..."

It was visible. During her sleep, the poor girl leaped on the bed with strong shocks and stuttered incoherent and incomprehensible words. Blasco watched her, looking at her with an affectionate care, with a tenderness that moved him and almost caused him to tear. Now he recognized it and remembered it that afternoon, on which, near that same bridge where he had saved it, he had seen it passing, in his black dress of educanda; and the great black eyes and the laughing mouth had remained uncancellable in his memory. And he didn't know who he was. There she is now, next to him with her hands narrow in hers, in her nurse; and she looked at her pure and pale oval as ivory, suffused by that air of suffering that often gives an ineffable flavor to a beautiful face. The shirt too big discovered her neck up to her throat and he saw the cockpit of the throat pulsing rhythmically.

Destiny goats! The vision of a moment lay next to him and he had to bend down to become his own. Perhaps this thought had to cross his mind; something bended his head almost to the flaming mouth of the maiden and was about to touch her with his, but a sudden tremor, the remorse almost to profane those lips still bitter and unaware, to violate what still the innocence and tenderness of the years made intangible, to lack that respect full of restraint, which his condition imposed on him who, with the unawareness of the innocence, entrusted himself, all this arrested him and made him blush with shame. And he revealed it to himself.

With a sense of dismay, he asked himself: "Would I love this child?"

Violent now appeared to him in a new way, and a crowd of new feelings broke in, like a bunch of foals, to whom the stable suddenly opens, who fall galloping and spreading through the countryside. The delicacies of the duke, the justice of the cause for which the Beati Paoli fought, all departed from his soul, so as to remain only a thought, this: "Why did they strike that innocent one?" and a feeling: Hate. He could understand the incessant, bitter, fierce war against Don Raimondo, he did not understand that, not reaching his father, one should sacrifice that poor creature without defense.

No defense? And he wasn't there now? God, providence, destiny, they had not guided him that night, on That road, at that hour to free the maiden from whom do you know what terrible revenge?

For about three months he had been wrong about the mountains, hiding, to avoid being arrested. His escape had raised too many clamors to forget it, or not to care about it and the Marquis of San Tommaso had given strict orders for Blasco to be arrested. True armies of birri and infantry soldiers and cavalry and rural companies were sent to every place, to hunt the young knight, who became a dangerous character because of the events. The Marquis did not already think of him as such, but he felt a deaf jealousy for the young man who, perhaps, had had all the passion of a woman Gabriella, and perhaps still occupied her heart. Donna Gabriella had been satisfied in her heart with Blasco's escape, but she had not dared to mitigate the rigors of justice, so as not to arouse suspicion, and to support her part, which she really felt and felt a kind of remorse about.

The bodyguards were saddened by that rigor, and they had shown it to their captain, Marquis of Tournon, but in vain. The Marquis of St. Thomas replied to the captain that in the affairs of justice of his majesty the ladies guards had nothing to see. The answer irritated the guards: Champ-aux-arbres, who was the architect of attempts and demonstrations in favor of Blasco, said:

"Word of honor I'm gonna get by the spot!"

He went to the base where Blasco had taken a room and still found the horse and the stuff. The baseman was disappointed that he had made expenses and offered the horse to the young gentleman; but he, without answering him, paid the debt and took away the horse and the stuff, not seeming to him that dignified stable for such a beautiful and gallant animal. He said to the basement:

"If the lord ever comes to take back the horse, tell him that I took it, viscount of Champ-aux-arbres, and that he will take it to him where he will."

These things Blasco learned two days later, at night, from the backdrop, from which he had hidden himself to take back the horse; he considered the words of the viscount as an invitation to fight, as a challenge. He suspected a trap, but threw away the suspicion and, without giving the answer to the backdrop, thought to use some goat man, those who led the goats into the city in the morning for the sale of milk. And the next morning Champ-aux-arbres got a ticket with an appointment: "Behind the castle of Bauso at 14 hours tomorrow."

Blasco went there a little earlier; shortly after the appointed hour he saw a knight coming galloping and drawing another horse behind him: It was his.

He felt like he was seeing a friend again. The knight was the viscount of Champ-aux-arbres. Without disassembling, he handed the reins of the other horse to Blasco, saying:

"Lord, my companions and I are grieved with what has happened to you and we would have liked to benefit you, because with the knights like you the chores are not fixed with the men of toga. There will be plenty of time to slit our throats when we can do it freely. Now I wanted to warn you not to be seen and to save yourselves, because you are wanted. I thought it necessary to take care of your horse and bring it to you. Goodbye."

Blasco surprised, amazed, moved stopped him, stretched out his hand and answered:

"You are a generous heart, and you bind me to you with gratitude; allow me to embrace you..."

The viscount grabbed his eyebrows, stood a little in maybe and said,

"Sure don't say that out of fear... you're an ancient hero."

And when he had disassembled, he embraced him with effusion; and he rejected him:

"Come on, get in the saddle and go. If you travel through Savoy, and no one has killed me yet, come visit me at Champ-aux-arbres castle!"

He jumped in the saddle, made a farewell gesture to him, and flew like a flash. Blasco waited for her to fade away; her eyes were wet and her heart was full of emotion. He caressed the horse, noted with pleasure that in the saddlebags there was all his stuff, and there were firearms, and that the guns and the rifle were loaded, he mounted and took the way of the mountains. From that day he lived wandering from here and there for the feuds; gathering news that forced him to seek hiding places and to get away from the state cities and from the large feudal lands. The four comrades of arms had been found, some of whom still alive had told in his own way that they had been murdered by a knight and an abbot who went to Messina and who they accompanied. It was not difficult to identify the two alleged guilty, in order to encamp new reasons for research and persecution, to avenge their companions: and Blasco felt surrounded by snares and threats. He provided for his safety by asking for the night, when he met them, shelter in the convents, which, as sacred places, were inviolable and enjoyed the right of asylum, or sleeping in the huts of the shepherds, in some farm lost in the vastness of the deserted and uncultivated feuds.

In that wandering from place to place he learned, fifteen or twenty days later, that the king had departed; and then he thought that the greatest danger had ceased, for the marquis of St. Thomas, his chief enemy, was missing the stimulus, and justice was part of his habits. of lukewarmness, slow and indolent.

Among this wandering, earning a journey from country to country, he had come to Caccamo. Where could he be more confident than with his good father Bonaventura? His father was seriously ill and the doctors were desperate to save him. The convent was distressed. Blasco came to a good point to lift his strength. He placed himself at his bedside and wanted to assist him, thus appearing to him to reciprocate him in some way of what the friar had done for him a child. He stayed more than twenty days in the convent of Caccamo and could have the consolation to perform the pious office to close his eyes to the friar. Father Bonaventura died peacefully on October 18, without complaining about anything.

He kissed and blessed Blasco, crying, and said to him:

"Remember what I told you..."

Blasco attended the funerals and the burial; he stayed a few more days in the convent, then left for Palermo, in small stages, traveling at night not to meet the guards and the rural soldiers, and preferring the lanes. So that night, at the gates of the capital, crossing the Bridge of the Admiral, he could prevent the abduction of Violante and free her.

This whole story passed very quickly through his brain, in a succession of paintings, while he looked at the maiden that the case put in his arms; then gradually he also gave in to sleep and, resting his head on the pillow, so that his hair was confused with those of Violante, and his cheek felt the feverish warmth of the girl's face, he fell asleep in a kind of sweet sleep.

The light of the sun, entering through the window and knowing his eyes, raised him up. In opening his eyes he saw on himself suspended and intent, the big and shining eyes of Violante. The young girl who woke up before, feverish, had lifted herself up in the middle of the bed and gazed with a lively pleasure on the young man who slept, feeling a kind of consolation flowing into the soul. Oh! how beautiful it was! and how valiant it was! But Blasco opened her eyes, and she blushed and was ashamed; and she went under the covers, hiding herself, and daring not to appear again. Blasco smiled, but didn't want to upset her with embarrassing questions.

"Now we'll send to Mrs. Duchess to pick you up with a litter. Are you happy?..."

Violante made a sign of yes; but she thought almost immediately and not without regret, that going away with her stepmother, she would no longer see Blasco and instead she was so happy to see him and feel him close!...

After a while, she raised her head. Blasco had fallen into a deep melancholy and kept his eyes fixed on the ground, without seeing anything. Violantly he called him timidly with a tremor in his voice:

"Mr. Blasco... I'm thirsty..."

He collected himself. He went to get a mug and handed it to Violante, who drank greedily.

"Thank you, Mr. Blasco!... Oh, how much I owe you... how much I owe you!..."

"What do you say! Maybe I'm the one who..."

He didn't dare finish: A bump of reddened his face, and his heart beat him violently. Violante was still waiting for him to finish the sentence, but Blasco shook his head and added:

"I'm a fool, sorry. But you don't owe me anything, my child!... Let's take care of you. I think you have a little fever. Give me your wrist."

She pulled out an arm, which Blasco felt anxiously, counting her pulses.

"Yes, yes; there's a little fever, but it's nothing at all. The scare... You've had it, haven't you?..."

"Oh, very... I was dying of it!... The Lord sent you!... How would I have done without you?..."

Not only her, but also Blasco shuddered at the idea of what might happen.

"Poor girl!" he murmured. "But now do not be afraid; I will watch over you..."

"Oh, I'm so glad!..."

But suddenly, as he remembered, Violante asked:

"Why did they tell me you were dead?"

"Who told you?"

"Mom..."

"The Duchess?"

"Yes..."

"When?"

"One morning, at the parlour; I told her that I had met you near the bridge... Do you remember that afternoon when we came back from Bagheria?... I smiled at you..."

"Oh, if I remember it!" sighed Blasco; "I didn't know you, because I had never seen you, but your eyes and your smile I didn't forget them anymore."

Violent blush; he heard those words a reshuffle and then a languishing of his heart in a new and disturbing joy. Blasco asked her:

"So the Duchess told you that I was dead?"

"Yes... indeed killed!... And that's not true; because you're here!... and it's not true at all that you're bad, because you saved me..."

"Did the Duchess tell you that I'm a bad man?"

Violant hesitated for a moment, and ended up saying yes.

"Right... Why did he tell me that?"

"But... as a joke, maybe..."

"Oh, no, he wasn't kidding. The Mom seemed angry and rebuked me."

Blasco looked at her with amazement.

Those revelations were inconceivable to him. She tried to go deeper, but Violante no longer knew anything and on the other hand either because of the fever or for the emotion or for the fatigue, she felt a great weight in the eyes and closed them, getting slumbered little by little.

Blasco then got up, crossed the room on tiptoe and went to call the curate.