Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

part four, chapter 7

English

Emanuele had seen with anger and jealousy Gabriella and Blasco move away; and, yielding to an impulse, discharged from his friends under a pretext, he had come out of the palace, but instead of riding in a carriage, he took with him his trusted servant, a kind of squire and a good boy, firing the carriage and the others.

He saw Blasco moving away quickly and the carriage of woman Gabriella going to step up, and he stood behind it at a certain distance, not having in truth any pre-arranged plan, but mulling thoughts of revenge and retaliation.

Nothing seemed more mortifying to him than having been rejected to make room for Blasco; perhaps his disrespect would have been less, if Gabriella had chosen some other knight. To provoke him, to challenge him, to fight, to send him to the other world, were things he could have done, without anyone intervening: But Blasco, after all, was his brother; no matter how much he felt no regard, yet he feared the judgment of the world; and, moreover, he did not hide that Blasco would never quarrel with him. And meanwhile there he was again lucky, sought after, desired, called by that beautiful woman who for two years lit her instincts of a young colt. Now, seeing the carriage go up, he wondered what it meant: But the answer didn't wait long, when he saw her stopping at the church of the Chain, and mounting a man whom he recognized at the size, for Blasco.

Then he held his fists for anger; and since the horses had speeded up a little 'the pace could not follow them, assuming that they went to St. Dominic, he thought to cut the way, on the streets sideways. He entered the road of Porto Salvo that would lead him immediately to the square where was the door of the house of woman Gabriella, and he felt raised, when he saw Blasco enter the road of the Crucifixors.

"She," he thought, "has discharged him; therefore she remains alone. He's fine."

But he had not finished consoling himself with this thought, when he realized that Blasco was there, standing in the shadow of the road, like one who waits or wants to discover something.

Then he feared that he had discovered himself and curled up on the steps, where poor people were snoring. He saw Blasco turn back and enter into the alley; then he descended cautiously, without making a noise, sticking his eyes in the shadows. He heard a balcony open and saw a white shape appear there. It was her!...

"What does he do?" asked himself mentally, with his heart shut by a bite of anger and jealousy.

A soft light came out of the room and illuminated the back of woman Gabriella: He could see what it did: And in fact he saw her coming back and stretching out her hands, and in the light that hit the iron railing of the balcony saw Blasco appear, he saw him climbing over and entering...

Then he broke into a curse, raising his fists to that balcony. In a rush of rage he had the idea of going to the door, smashing it also, breaking into that house, revealing the shame of that woman, but the image of Blasco stood up against him and stopped him. A treacherous thought flashed in his mind. He bowed to the servant's ear and whispered a few words to him quickly, quivering, with his bitter mouth.

"Did you understand? Go, run!"

The servant did not repeat himself. Emanuele walked back into the Crucifixors' street, walking torvo and threatening and savoring revenge. How slow the time was! He seemed very long, endless and quivering with impatience, beating his feet and swearing at the servant.

From time to time he looked at the balconies of the building, and the tormenting visions filled his brain and swelled the heart of a storm of hatred: and the more time passed, the more torment grew. After less than an hour he heard a troop of people approaching, and shortly afterwards he saw a group of people coming from the bottom of the square, preceded by a lantern.

"Finally!" he said.

It was a bunch of scumbags, jovinists, perhaps gathered in the counters of the nearby market, armed with pebbles, laughing wrinkled. Before them came the servant who, pointing to the house of woman Gabriella, said:

"He's there. We understand: cry out, beat the pebbles, say whatever you want; the names do not need to repeat them to you.'"

"Leave it to me," said one of those scoundrels, who looked like the boss.

They entered the alley and lined up under the balconies of woman Gabriella began horrible music, beating one pebble against the other, and imitating with the voice the sound of trumpets. Then suddenly they kept quiet, and one of them began to sing with a stony voice:

Nothing in this world, beautiful, can one do

because everything comes to be known;

when the thing most appears hidden

such that it allows everyone to see it

I know with whom you quarrel

because there above I have seen it enter

And I console myself! Carry on doing it

because for a woman one cannot die...

And immediately afterward the pebbles resumed their horribly thunderous music, which, retracing itself in the alley, turned it into hell:

Then they kept silent, and the voice took away:

Beautiful in your garden I have been

I took some walks and pleasures

from point to point I circled

there are beautiful things to see.

And your fruits I ate,

little prunes and varcuchedda damaschini;

a bunch of quince remains

he who comes near has to gather it!...

And again the pebbles to pound, and scream and laugh and whistles and obscene swearing. A few plebian laces resonated:

"Oh! oh!... And what do you want to take the palio?... To', Duchess! To' dragon! Brr!..."

And great laughter accompanied those screams.

He would open a few windows, shove some sleepless and curious faces, he would look, he would ask:

"What is it? That he married some old moron?"

Then they followed the address of the sentences; they saw, guessed, wondered, enjoyed us, laughed. Gradually everyone in the alley was awakened; those villains took more vigor, as the number of spectators increased and the allusions became more precise, more daring, more daring. The whole neighborhood woke up to witness that vile and cowardly denigration.

Emanuele was happy; he looked at the windows, looked at those strange chatterers and sent them from time to time the servant, to incite them more and to the incitements he added, more effective push, handfuls of bronze coins.

Some carriages, coming from a conversation, stopped; faces leaned, looked and wondered; some carrier also stopped.

He went out some knights, noticed Emanuele, asked:

"But!" answered Emanuele, as a gnome, "I don't know; it seems that they have it with the Duchess..."

"Woman Gabriella?..."

"That's what I think... That's unworthy, isn't it?"

"Worry, really!... But why?"

"Who knows anything about it?"

But as unworthy as it was, that gazzarra was a funny thing, and after that observation, everyone resumed their way; and Emanuele pretended to go away and went back to enjoy the show. But lo, suddenly, while that rag in the alley was beating the pebbles, squealing, opening the door, and a man with the naked sword slamming over it, dropping a real storm of platters, so sudden, unexpected and furious, that all those people, changing the laughs into cries of terror, fled, disappeared, without even caring to see where they were raining. Blasco chased them by hitting right and missing:

"Scoundrels!... cowards!..."

Two of those formidable plates reached the servant of Emanuele who, not so much for fear, but for fear of being recognized, pulled back, crawling along the wall. Blasco noticed it, but as he struck, he recognized that he was not clothed with poor rags like that rascal and guessed in the shadows that he was wearing a livery. He jumped at him and grabbed him by the neck. He tried to release himself, put his hand in his pocket and drew it armed with a dagger, but Blasco was quick to grab his wrist, twisting him so violently, that the servant sent a scream of sorrow and fell on the ground, begging:

"Ah!...breaks my bone!... Master!..."

Emanuele was bruised; he would have wanted to come to the help of his servant, seeming to him a cowardice abandoning him to the vengeance of Blasco, but he did not want to be recognized; yet the livore, the jealousy, the shame, the whole wave of sentiments made an impetus, overcoming every reluctance and he approached as drawn by those cries, with an air of surprise asking:

"What is it? What's the matter with you? Where are you?..."

He found himself before the servant groaning on the ground, with his wrist locked in the hand of Blasco, who was perhaps going to teach him a lesson, when the voice of Emanuel, recognized, stopped him.

"Emanuel!" he cried, looking at his brother in front.

Emanuel, who wanted to pretend that he knew nothing and did not recognize him, found himself embarrassed; he stuttered:

"You?"

But, resuming his arrogant tone, he added:

"Leave my servant!... I didn't give you permission to beat up my servants..."

"Ah! is he your servant? By whack, Mr. Duke of Motta, I would never have assumed that you would recruit your servants into the market scoundrel! And your servant? Well, since you don't teach them the good creature, I will. Take it, villain, and go hang yourself somewhere else!"

And to the words he added such violent kick in the kidneys, that the miscapitated went to roll five steps further, without being able to get up again. Emanuel lost the light of his eyes; he drew his sword crying out: "Ah! it's too much!..."

He unarmed Blasco with a very quick move and with his master's blow, flying his sword away, and taking him by his arms, before he had the time to recover from wonder, raising him up like a trinket, and scorching him with every word, he said to him with a loud voice,

"Thank your saint that you were born of the same father, for I would have slaughtered you like a hydrophobic dog, but if I am not Cain, I am not even Abel: For now I understand all the cowardice of thy works, and because I am ashamed for thee, thou shalt ask forgiveness on thy knees that thou hast dishonored thy father's name..."

And holding him still high in his arms, burning him violently, he took him away, entered the door, went up the stairs, crossed the halls among the stunned servants, and entered into the room where Gabriella was weeping with sorrow, shame, and anger, and bowed him at his feet, saying:

"Donna Gabriella, the Duke of Motta, my brother, begs me to beg you to forgive him..." Donna Gabriella raised her eyes frightened and amazed, looked at Blasco, looked at Emanuele and covered her face. Emanuele on the ground was bruised, like a corpse and gave no sign of life.

On the door the curious and still amazed servants were crowded, and someone, observing the clothing of the duchess and the disorder of the bed, smiled maliciously; but Blasco, handing Gabriella the woman's hand, looked everyone in the face, and said with noble haughtiness:

"Listen to me well, you; the Duchess has done me the honour of giving me her hand. From tonight I am your lord... Take away Mr. Duchino, and with all due respect; and close the doors..."

Two lackeys leaped and lifted up Emanuele; they took him away, closing the door of the chamber, with a whisper full of astonishment, while Gabriella, a woman with a radiant face and still tearful, coming her hands, stuttered:

"What did you say?..."

"What I had to... Could I abandon your reputation to taunting others? Can I leave you helpless?"

She had one of those crazy impulses of appreciation of love and passion; she threw herself at Blasco's feet, took his hand, kissing her like a delirium, and murmuring: "Thank you!...thank you!..."

But suddenly her face shone; she realized that Blasco did not respond to that delirium, and it seemed as if struck by a grave and sad thought, and then her enthusiasm cooled; a frozen wave crossed her body; she first got up timidly, cuddling towards a chair, but then an idea occupied her mind, her eyes flashed with a dark light.

"Why," he asked with inexpressible anguish; "why deceive me?" These words gathered Blasco, looked at Gabriella, and when she saw her so altered, she went out and said to her:

"Who deceives you?... You say about me?..."

"Yes... you... have said something before the bondage... that is not possible. It was a lie; to save me... you said it yourself... but it is a deception!"

"Oh no, don't think that, Gabriella..."

"Yes, yes, it is a deception. I feel it... You cannot and must not marry me... I know why... It's a horrible thing... Why? Why?..."

He was twisting his hands for the pain.

"Gabriella! Gabriella!" said Blasco with infinite mercy: "You're wrong... That's not what you think..."

But she was scorching her head, abandoning herself to the delirium of grief and jealousy that took her.

"I'm not wrong. I know myself... I am not as I should be to come to you, to be able to believe that you are all mine, to believe that your words, so solemn, are dictated by love and not by generosity..."

His voice became bitter and trembling.

"No; I don't want your generosity!... What do I care? And your soul that I want... and your soul I have not... is elsewhere!..."

"No, Gabriella!"

"It's somewhere else, I tell you!... I can feel it. She's pure, she's still a girl, and I have a past... I'm a woman that everyone accuses of frivolity... and it's true... and I was light, and you know it!... You take me, you get me drunk with kisses, but your heart... your life is not with me! no! no!"

Blasco had a great pity for that poor woman whom passion made even too unjust to herself; she took her hands, drew it to herself, whispering sweet words in her ear:

"Oh, Gabriella, why are you tormenting yourself? But what am I, poor bastard without future, without luck, to aspire to your hand?... Maybe I assumed too much, maybe I dared too much; at that moment I didn't know anything else, to explain my presence here... this is the truth.... A minute ago, I was thinking about that wretch Emanuele... I thought a lot of sad things, Gabriella... holding my soul... Why do you want to break your heart with ghosts that are now erased and scattered?... Don't poison tonight. Do you not see, then, that they undermine our joy?... You wanted me with you, you opened my arms, why do you close them now?... Don't you want me anymore?"

Donna Gabriella looked at him deeply and passionately, then suddenly she opened her arms and with a hiccup she said: "Come!..."

Their lips were still searched for; but it seemed that something freezing, immobile had stood between them.