Beati Paoli
by Luigi Natoli
part four, chapter 20
| Italiano | English |
Donna Gabriella came to her palace in a nervous crisis and had to disassemble from the carriage helped by Violante and the relay: She immediately ordered them to close the door. He was scared. Although what he had done was legitimate for the right to defend himself, even the idea of killing a man filled her with terror. It seemed to her that justice was already on her trail; the birro Matteo Lo Vecchio had seen it, at that time he had rebuilt the crime, he had also denounced it.
"Close all doors!" he ordered, suddenly shaking at every slight noise.
Violent had followed her in silence, not even daring to address a word of comfort to her. She also had eyes full of the horrible vision: Emanuele, supine on the ground, with his eyes overwhelmed by death. That youth cut off in a moment that terrified expression did not leave before her eyes. She was shaking.
However, he heard and confessed that Gabriella had saved her; he had saved her by coming to the villa when he was about to subjugate the abominable ensemble of Emanuele had saved her by violently suppressing that bully who seemed already certain of victory and who was set to perform a vile rite before his eyes.
She owed her safety to that woman who had been her most ferocious enemy, and toward whom her heart had felt taken from hatred and jealousy. Case, luck, providence divine will? He didn't know. Who cared about the rest?
If he didn't now cry over something irreparable, lost forever, didn't he owe it to Gabriella's intervention and courage? If he was now safe, far from the danger that had threatened her, didn't Gabriella owe it to the woman? Didn't his stepmother suffocate, extinguished in a rush of human charity, the voices of hatred to offer her liberating hands at the cost of bleeding them?...
When you rush through the halls, Gabriella, pulling behind Violante, entered her room and closed, pale, trembling, suspicious, the girl threw herself into her arms, and then both of them wept.
In that while Coriolano della Floresta entered the room of Blasco who, lying in a high chair, wandered with his gaze behind his dreams and his thoughts. Coriolano's appearance, which seemed troubled by something serious, marveled him.
"What is it?"
"Emanuele was killed two and a half hours ago..."
Blasco leaped on his feet pale and stuttered:
"What do you say?... Killed?..."
"The truth; I have now received the announcement and I have run to warn you..."
"But how?"
"He was killed in Bagheria..."
Blasco became paler and wrinkled his eyebrows.
"To Bagheria, you say?... But then he..."
"Yes, he, pretending to go to a game of hunting, had instead fallen into the mess of Butera at a time when there was no one, except woman Violante..."
"Oh God!..."
"It was already messed up and so hidden that I had no sense of it. But I ordered punishment for the informants who didn't warn me of Emanuele's departure, to have him followed..."
"Let go of these details, which I don't care... Say rather..."
"Woman Violante is safe... Emanuele was killed before he could commit violence..."
"Ah!...thank you! But do not hold me in pain, tell me everything, in the name of God..."
"I can't tell you anything yet, because what I'm giving you is the first news I've received. I can only say that Emanuele was killed by a woman..."
"From a woman?"
"Surely. As a woman Gabriella."
Blasco sent a cry of astonishment and his face expressed great disbelief.
"Donna Gabriella? How? Where? But are you not deceived?"
"Donna Gabriella had been attracted to the mess, I don't know why or how; but of course she put a stab in Emanuele's chest and took Violante with her, removing her from all danger. Go see the Duchess who must have already returned."
Coriolano had not finished, that Blasco had already taken the hat, the sword, the long stick and threw himself at the door saying:
"I'll see you later."
He ran to the woman's house Gabriella with his heart in tumult for what he had heard, and for what he did not know, but feared to find and supposed very serious. Donna Gabriella didn't get it. He heard from the valet, through the doorway, the announcement of Blasco's arrival, blindly watched Violante who had become paler and, unlocked the door, looked out his face and told Blasco that he was anxious in the middle of the room:
"Go! go!... You may not enter... I don't want you now. Go see the prince of Butera; tell him to come here now. Go... You'll come tomorrow. Not now, I don't want to! Do you realize I don't want to?..."
In the accent, in the gaze, in the painful spasm of the face there was so much begging pain, that Blasco did not know how to insist and went away. Donna Gabriella closed the door and approached Violante who had stood still with her forehead clouded by a shadow. He looked at her for a moment and asked her:
"What do you think?"
His voice had taken a tone that he wanted to be harsh, but he could not hide the deep pain that regurgitated her chest.
Violent raised his great, clear, sorrowful eyes and softly answered:
"Nothing, Madam Mother..."
"Did you hear who I was talking to?..."
Violent blushed a little.
"Ma'am, yes," he said.
A flash of anger flashed into the eyes of a woman Gabriella, but she went out immediately; she took the hand of Violante and asked her with a trembling voice of fear:
"Do you still love her?"
Again the flames went up on the face of Violante, who did not answer. But it was easy to see the vivid emotion of her heart, at the frequent pulse of the arteries, which seemed to break. The Duchess waited a moment for an answer, then she said:
"Listen to me. I killed a man... I killed him for you... For a moment I caressed the idea that he was insulting you, because I felt that way to get revenge and almost helped him... to humiliate you, to vile you, to annihilate you... But then I thought a lot of other things... And then I wanted to save you... and I killed!..."
She covered her eyes with her hands, as if not to see the horrible spectacle. Violante, joining her hands, moved, begging, murmured:
"Madam... ma'am!..."
The Duchess raised her head and her eyes were full of tears. Shooting:
"I killed!... Now, listen to me for what I've done, for the shed blood, for what I'm suffering, I beg you to tell me the truth. Are you gonna tell me? Will you tell me?..."
"What do you want me to say?" asked Violante with a thread of voice.
"Tell me if you still love her. This thought is stuck here in my brain, like a nail... You know, he belongs to me now; he belongs to me; he has taken my whole life... Now, maybe now that I've killed, he'll look at me with horror... and yet, you see... I saved you, I freed you from that wretch, for him, because I felt this would please him, and that he should be grateful to me... Tell me, then. Doubt is more tormenting than reality; tell me if you still love it..."
Her words were full of pain and his face had the inexpressible anguish of the great deep pains. Violante was heartfelt; piety suggested to her the lie, her loyalty required her not to hide anything from those who begged her with such warmth. He won loyalty.
"Oh, madam, why are you so tormented? Well, I'll tell you everything, yes, it's better for me and for you... I loved him...I loved him as a dream, as something tall, great, sublime, divine almost!..."
"Yes. Yes!" stammering Gabriella woman exalting herself, "he is so."
"But now..."
"Now?"
"Now I have solemnly sworn to consecrate myself to God. I will return to the monastery and take the veil... and the world will end eternally for me... He never heard a word from my mouth; he never knew if I had a feeling for him... and he will never know! Here's what I can tell you..."
Donna Gabriella took her hands; in her eyes shone a feeling of gratitude and a truly maternal tenderness, but the hiccups that swelled her chest prevented her from speaking.
They were in this state of emotion, when the valet came to announce the prince of Butera.
Violante left the same evening, in a carriage, with his grandfather, who was furious not only for the attack on his grandson, but also and more because he had dared to attempt such a thing in his home.
He threatened to hang the castaldo and the Villains who had left the house at the mercy of the first come and it was saddened that Emanuele had died, because he wanted to teach him the respect that was owed him. Good thing the Duchess thought of that. What a woman! But good, for a kiss! Now it was necessary to remove her from all the annoyances of justice, expecting that the prince of Geraci would not remain with his hands in order to avenge the death of his nephew.
Throughout the journey from the house of woman Gabriella to the Palazzo Butera, the noble gentleman made no more speeches, passing through all the tones of anger, indignation, admiration, piety, towards that grandson, so young and already tried by a thousand misadventures.
Violante kept silent and thought, or at least seemed to think; inside instead he cried. He had reunited everything that evening, obligated you by something superior, of which he had in the depths of his heart heard the solemn and warning voice, but he now heard, before the garrulity of the ancestor, all the greatness of his sacrifice. Yet she had never dared to hope to conquer the heart of Blasco, to be loved by him, to live with him always, always, as she had dreamed in the first blossom of her youth; the lover of her stepmother, indeed, had almost suffocated, under the indignation and offense of her character, the flame of love. That's what she thought. Instead, now that he had solemnly renounced, he realized that love was still alive and vehemently within his heart and that a dream, a distant hope had nested in the depths of his spirit. And he sobbed within himself in the silence of his closed and impenetrable pain.
Donna Gabriella, after the departure of Violante, being alone in her room, was afraid. Why did he kick Blasco out? Wouldn't it have been better to invite him back? The solitude of her room, full of sad and frightening visions, put a chill in her veins!...
What if he sent for Blasco? Yeah, it was better. She felt the need to see a friend next to her, to hear a word of comfort, a sweet and tender word: to receive a caress, a handshake full of mysteries and confidences. He sounded; the waitress rushed, he ordered:
"Send a steering wheel immediately to Mr. Don Blasco Albamonte; tell him that I look, that I need him. Go, run!" Blasco had dinner with Coriolano; he was dark and silent, as oppressed by the accumulation of events of that day and the knight of Floresta could not awaken him from that oppression. But when a servant handed him the steering wheel embassy, he jumped up and said,
"I'll be right there... Allow me, Coriolano."
He arrived in a few minutes at the woman's palace Gabriella. The Duchess stood in a corner of her room, curled up in a high chair, with her eyes fixed towards the door, waiting in an anguish mood, shuddering in solitude at every slight noise. As he saw opening the door and entering Blasco, he rose up with his arms stretched out shouting like a savior:
"Blasco! Blasco mio!..."
And he fell on his chest, sobbing in a nervous crisis. He laid it on a canapĂ, sat before it on a lower stool, and took her hands comforting her with a sweet and tender voice.
"Don't be afraid!... You did well... Nobody's gonna touch your hair... I'm here..."
She stuttered:
"And you'll never leave again!... won't you?... He stays here all the time... I don't want to leave you anymore!..."
"Yes, yes... but calm down! After all, you did what you had to do..."
"You know everything? Do you know how this happened? I went for you. I thought I surprised you. I was crazy. They told me you were there..."
"Me?... How? I don't know anything. Therefore, he relates..."
Then Gabriella, at times, interrupting, sometimes exalting herself, then, suddenly, overwhelmed by fear, told him of the letter received, of his race to Bagheria and of his break into the room of Violante.
"I had decided to kill you all at once... But instead I found him... Violante lay on the bed with his arms tied, so lost, dismayed... He had drawn me... organized revenge. Horrible... One more minute, and Violante would be lost... lost... I understood... Oh how many sad things came to my mind!... Lost! Lost forever, and for all!... He had not touched her yet. He came to me; I saw nothing. I hit. I wanted to escape right away, but I saw Violante there, astounded... I had pity, I dragged her with me... When you came in today and I didn't let you in... she was here... that's why I didn't want you to come in. You must never see her again! I saved her... I don't know why... I can't explain it...
But if I've done something grateful to you, promise me you won't see her again..." That story, the tone of the voice, the appearance of a woman Gabriella had aroused away in the heart of Blasco a storm of feelings and affections. He understood or seemed to see through his reluctances all the strength of the double sacrifice made by Gabriella, but above all he felt a deep gratitude towards her for what she had done to the benefit of Violante. There was for him, in the maiden, something more sacred than life itself: the unspoiled purity that made her a dream creature in her eyes and surrounded her with all the charms of the immaculate things; and of this she was made armed guardian and avenger woman Gabriella, the one of whom he had prevented and feared the insane impulses; the one whom he had seen shining with hatred to every slight shadow of suspicion. How and where does this change come from? What deep goodness, then, was nested in the intimate mystery of that stormy soul? What frightening greatness did that love have, to the point of saving the hated and feared rival, just because this could please the loved man?
Blasco was won. She shook Gabriella's hands, kissed her with tender devotion, looking at her with deep and moving joy.
"Oh! Gabriella!" murmured, "Who can reward you for what you did? If I gave my life for you now, I would not come to equal your gesture!..."
Donna Gabriella looked him in the eyes as if to read at the bottom of his soul. She felt in the tone of those words something unusual and again and in kisses a tenderness never felt until then. A shadow of sadness covered her face. That night Blasco was more expansive and tender; he sincerely abandoned himself to the joy of his heart, for which no happiness was greater than knowing saves Violante, thinking that with his greatest expansions, with the sweetest caresses would make Gabriella happy woman. But instead the Duchess became more and more melancholy, darker, tormented by a thought: "They are not for me, only for me, these caresses. He doesn't love me for me, but for what I did: therefore his heart is not entirely mine; therefore I will never possess it. everything; thought, passion, caresses, they need something that makes them vibrate... I am not loved!... I am not loved!..."
Little by little this thought took hold of her spirit, engulfed her blood, extinguished her flames, destroyed her fountains of joy. The voice of that thought cruelly said to her: "It's over! It's over for you! His soul is elsewhere; his soul escapes you, it will always escape you!... finished!... it is over!"
In a moment of abandonment, Blasco told her:
"My friend, I must give you a pain. I didn't have the courage to tell you before..."
Donna Gabriella cheated: The inner voice whispered to them with a grin of bitter triumph: "You see? Now he'll tell you he's forced to abandon you..."
He looked at Blasco without talking, questioning him painfully with his eyes. Blasco continued:
"I have orders to leave for the camp of Francavilla, now..."
Gabriella's first impulse was to tell him: "I'm coming with you!..."
But the words died in her mouth; she bowed her head in silence and only then did her eyes fill with tears, to which she could give an apparent explanation. After a moment of silence Blasco said:
"This might be the last night we spend together..."
His voice had the deep emotion of one last farewell and Gabriella the woman understood it and burst into hiccups.
"Yes, yes! - he mentally repeated with a spasm of anguish; - this is the last night!... the last!..."
But Blasco alluded to the possible death in a bloody battle between the Spanish fortified troops in Francavilla and the Germanics who encircled them everywhere; Gabriella woman thought of the death of her love.
"I'll leave tomorrow at noon."
Then she was taken by a horrible idea, her eyes still humid flashed all the glow of passion exclusively ferocious.
"If I killed him!" he thought: - he wouldn't be any more than anyone else!..."
Kill him?... And behold, before the eyes of the mind the image of Emanuel appeared again lying on the ground, with that bleeding hole in the chest, the eyesless pupils, stopped by the spasm of death in a frightening immobility. The horror went through her blood; in the excitement of fantasy, Emmanuel's image was replaced by Blasco's: She saw Blasco killed, in her room, and then, leaping up, stretching out her hands, cried with an inexpressible accent:
"No!"
And she fell into Blasco's arms.
