Beati Paoli
by Luigi Natoli
part three, chapter 20
| Italiano | English |
Donna Gabriella, who arrived at the palace, had just exchanged greetings with her husband and had answered some questions about him, and had gone to lock herself in her rooms. The deep emotions of that journey had deeply disturbed his soul, already depressed and altered by what had happened at the castle of the Stone and felt the overwhelming need to be alone and to abandon herself.
Violant, however, remained with his father. Don Raimondo, neglecting the gravity and austerity he used to assume before his daughter, had let himself be overcome by paternal affection, and after having embraced the girl with impetuousness, had made her sit tenderly on her knees, like a little girl, and asked her a thousand questions. He wanted to know minutely the history of that captivity and in his legitimate curiosity there was hidden an atrocious doubt.
The paternal caresses, which Violante was not aware of and which were no little surprise to her gently, the questions that asked her, the affectionate care with which she encouraged her dissolved every back and every awe, and the girl felt almost happy to be able to tell her father the singular adventure that had happened and that still could not be explained.
In fact, the unique adventures: because he began to tell him about his abduction from the monastery and the miraculous intervention of his liberator. Without wanting to, she always mentioned "Mr. Blasco" and her voice took kind and affectionate intonations that were equivalent to adjectives, but she didn't realize that when she mentioned "Mr. Blasco" in his father's eyes it was a flash of hatred.
"Oh," she said, "without Mr. Blasco I would die, Mr. Father!"
He only silent the scene with his stepmother, or reserved or fear or that instinctive modesty that warned him to silence an episode that could be equivalent to a revelation or confession.
"Now go and rest," said Don Raimondo at the end "you must be very tired; no one will touch your hair, and in a few days, as soon as there is the first large English vessel leaving, I will take you with me to Turin..."
"Partire?" comes Violante dismayed by the idea of not seeing Mr. Blasco anymore - Why? Why?"
"Because I must return to court, and I will certainly not leave you exposed to other dangers."
The tone of these words was quite harsh and Violante, who saw in his father's face return the old severe and cold mask, bowed his head and said nothing more. He kissed his hand and withdrew to his room. She also felt a great need to be alone. Alone? oh, no; there was an image and a name that stood always before her eyes and in her heart, and she wished to close herself in her room, so that she could abandon herself to her contemplation.
But what a crowd of thoughts and feelings! Where was Blasco? He had seen him boldly fleeing from his armored companions, had lost sight of him, but he did not doubt that he was safe. The great confidence in the invincibility of that hero made her safe and quiet about his fate. In his brain he was one of those wonderful princes or characters of fairy tales that overcome all obstacles, knock down giants and monsters, invulnerable and protected by some benevolent fairy. He certainly had to have an occult power to get out of so many dangers, unharmed and victorious. Where was he? What did he do?
In this quest, a murky and threatening figure appeared to her in the depths of her thoughts: that of her stepmother; she now saw her armed with a knife as ready to vibrate, but not against her, definitely against Blasco. A cold terror took her; her illusion was so alive that she took away the perception of reality, it seemed to her that the door of her room opened and that Gabriella woman slowly entered and approached her. Silence nailed her lips.
Actually, Gabriella had opened and entered and approached Violante. When she was near her, seeing the maiden standing still and with her eyes barred, she shook her arm, saying:
"Well, don't you get up?..."
Violant sent a cry and leaped to his feet, passing his hand over his eyes.
"God, what a fear!..."
"Why are you afraid?" asked the Duchess with a squealing voice. "Why are you scared? So have you committed any faults?"
"Oh, Madam Mother!... Me?..."
He tried to revive himself. Donna Gabriella stood before her by searching her with an inquisitive gaze down to the depths of her soul. After a moment of silence, she said to her:
"Did your father ask you anything?"
"What did you have to ask me?"
"Don't be silly. He certainly wanted to know what happened to us."
"Yes, madam."
"Everything?"
The expression of this word was significant enough to leave some doubt in the heart of Violante, who smiled with sweet sadness and replied:
"Everything, no... Something I've kept quiet..."
"What?"
"What could bring great pain to my father..."
Donna Gabriella kept quiet, looking around in the room, without seeing; then she said:
"Take care of yourself! One word you will say about that accident and I will kill you! And no one's gonna save you. I will kill you at night, in your sleep, so that no one can rush to your help!..."
He gnashed his teeth with wild belleluin, holding his fists, glad of the fear he saw painting on the face of the girl.
"And before I kill you, I'll tell your father you're Blasco's Castiglione lover!..."
"Mrs. Mother!..."
On her hands, with her face on fire, she begged her to shut up.
"Are you afraid that I will speak?" continued the Duchess ruthlessly.
"But what have I done, Madam Mother, to deserve his wrath? What did I do to her?..."
"Shut up! I forbid you to talk... Shut up! What did you do to me? To me nothing. to your father who has brought shame; it is the house that you have shamed... Oh, it's useless to deny, I know everything..."
"What, madam? What?"
"Oh! the innocent..."
"I swear, ma'am, I didn't do anything wrong!..."
"Shut up!... Shut up! You're your father's blood and you can't fail."
He felt the need to swear, to swear to vent the poisoned, unsatisfied, dry and greedy soul. You knew Violante was pure, but what did it matter? It was enough for her to know that she loved Blasco, and that Blasco loved Violante, and that she, the woman full of all desires, of all the strivings, of all the ardors, had been abandoned and despised. All this was more than enough to light a volcano of hatred against the maiden in her heart... This idea was pounding her proudly; at that moment she had a clear vision of that love and all her nerves swarmed with it.
He approached Violante, took her by the wrists and shook her rudely shouted:
"You don't have to love him!...you know?... You don't have to love him!... I don't want to, I don't want to!"
His voice had the whim of a hiccup.
Violant lost her begged her again:
"Mrs. Mother, for pity's sake!"
But suddenly a voice rose from the bottom of the room:
"Gabriella, what are you doing?"
It was Don Raimondo: She rushed forward and held the girl that Gabriella had left in her arms.
"What?" said this woman, rising up wretchedly as a woman wounded in her dignity; and, pointing to Violant, she said: "It protects your interests and your... decorum, which you vile."
"Who? Violant?... She?..." And by changing his tone, he added: "But you're crazy!"
"Ah, am I crazy? But ask herself if she is not Blasco's lover from Castiglione."
Don Raimondo jumped back like he was struck by lightning.
"She?... She?..."
And when he came near again to Violante, he lifted up her forehead, crying with amazement in which they vibrated together unbelief, sorrow, and hatred:
"You? You?... And it's true?"
Violante looked his father in the eye and proudly said:
"No, that's not true."
"She's lying, she's lying, she's brazen!"
"Shut up!" shouted Don Raimondo.
"I'm not lying."
"Nega, then, if you can, that you love Blasco from Castiglione. There is Christ Crucified, swear!"
"I love her, yes," the maiden exclaimed, standing in her person with the dignity of a mature woman "I love her, but I am not her lover."
"She slept in the arms of that man!" retorted the poisoned Gabriella woman.
Don Raimondo leaned on his daughter:
"So is it true?"
"Yes, it is true, he slept next to me, only on the bedside, but I have never been so sure, not even in my mother's arms."
Don Raimondo was now looking at his wife, now his son, tossed between the charge and the defense; now I believe, now not; he refused to believe that his daughter was guilty, but in the meantime it was true that Violante loved the hated bastard and had found herself a night in the midst of him. In her first story, Violante, out of modesty, had silenced that idyllic episode, which now the Duchess hatefully revealed, transforming and aggravating it. "The pure?
Is that possible?" asked Don Raimondo. An atrocious doubt took hold of his heart. With his tight fists, almost threatening, he cried out to his daughter:
"Defend yourself, then! exculpate yourself if you can!"
"Blame yourself? But if he confessed!" cried Gabriella woman.
Then Don Raimondo turned to his wife and his face shone with hatred and pain.
"Shut up!" cried he. "I know well what moves you to accuse my daughter; I know you well enough, Gabriella woman, and you are not the one who must protect my decorum. Get out! I'll take care of my daughter."
Donna Gabriella became bruised; anger blinded her.
"I go out, yes, and not only from this room, but also from your home. Too much I have remained there and I do not want to be the accomplice of your evil deeds anymore."
"Disgurated!" cried Don Raimondo, alluding, and in a rush of rage and fear he drew his sword and did to rush, but Violante jumped up and shook his neck crying:
"No, Mr. Father, no!"
Donna Gabriella did not seem to be dismayed; she slowly withdrew and came to the door and turned and threw these last words:
"Don't surprise me: These walls are accustomed to blood; for this is where Maddalena was murdered!"
"Ah, you won't live!" cried Don Raimondo exasperated, and opened up, but Gabriella had gone out and had pushed the door behind her, and Violante had already held on to his arm. At that point a servant struck at the other door that he was giving on the hallway:
"Who is it?" cried Don Raimondo, drawing the sword quickly.
"Excellency, there is the illustrious Captain of Justice."
"Here I am."
She looked at her daughter in a murky way and said to her: "Put on your cloak and follow me."
On his way out, Don Raimondo ordered the servant: "Let my private carriage attack immediately."
Then he entered the study, where the captain of justice was waiting for him, leaving Violante in the anteroom with the old waitress: "Wait for me here."
The dialogue between the Duke and the captain was brief. Don Raimondo accompanied him to the staircase and separated himself saying:
"I'll wait for you here then."
When he entered the hall, the servant told him that the carriage was ready.
"Come," he gloomily said to Violante.
At the foot of the ladder a little blind man of one eye, taking off his cap and stretching out his hand, asked with a whiny voice:
"Love, Your Excellency, for God's sake!"
Don Raimondo turned rudely and was about to have him kicked out, when the blind man quickly added:
"Don Antonino sent me."
Don Raimondo jumped and approached the blind man.
"Who, Don Antonino?"
"Budget... for that thing."
The duke looked around suspiciously, put a silver coin in the hand of the blind man, and asked:
"Well?"
"At midnight Alessio's uncle."
"Take, good man," said Don Raimondo strong, absent with his head, "and go with God."
The blind man went away and Don Raimondo, mounted in the carriage, where Violante was waiting for him, ordered: "To St. Catherine."
