The Honour of Savelli: A Romance
in a tone of inquiry as he drew his razor across my face.
"Ah, yes, yes; I have just come," I replied, and the little man went
on--
"There have been great doings to-day. 'Tis said the duke has ordered
the Count di Savelli to be executed for having in his possession a
favour of Madame. They say the count stole it, but we know better,
don't we, your excellency?" and the little fool chuckled to himself.
He went on without waiting for an answer. "Ah, yes; the ladies can
never resist us soldiers. I may tell you that I served with Don Carlo
Baglioni, and can bear my pike--there now, I think that side is clean
shaven--as I was saying before, it was hard on the Marquis di Savelli,
a gallant noble whom I frequently saw--pardon, your excellency, it is
but a scratch after all--had you not moved so suddenly, still only a
scratch, nothing for a soldier. The Marquis di Savelli, as I said, was
a regular customer of mine, and he had a lovely head of hair, your
excellency. It was not so much before I took him in hand. _Ecco!_ but
in a month you should have seen! He came in here in his free easy way,
and flung me ten crowns. 'Buy a ribbon for Madonna Giulia with that,
Messer Pazzi,' says he; 'and harkee, send me over six more bottles of
your elixir of St. Symmachus. _Maldetto!_' he exclaimed, twisting his
curls between his fingers, 'but she adores me now.' Now who, I say,
could _she_ have been but--_tchick_? _Diavolo_? it is done; never a
cleaner shave in Rome itself. If your excellency's fortune grows as
well as your hair, I could wish you no better luck."
I rose in silence, and, flinging him a crown, bade him pay himself,
and receiving my change, hurried out, declining all Messer Pazzi's
entreaties to bear with me a bottle of his precious elixir of St.
Symmachus or any other accursed balsam. I saw at a glance that the
removal of my beard caused a considerable alteration in my appearance,
and imagined if I could but change my attire, my most intimate friends
would not know me unless they observed closely; and even then might
perhaps fail to recognise me. This view, as it turned out, was not
quite correct, and I had yet to learn how difficult a thing it is to
arrange a complete disguise.
A few doors further on I laid out some of my money in the purchase
of a stout leather buff coat, along dark mantle, and a cap to match.
The cap was ornamented with a single black feather; and when I had
donned these garments I felt that, wrapped in the cloak, with the cap
pulled well over my eyes, and the feather standing defiantly out to
the side, that I wanted but a fathom of sword to make myself as
ruffianly-looking a bravo as ever trod the purlieus of Naples or Rome.
But the sword was some difficulty, for my crowns had dwindled to
sixteen. Fortunately I had on my finger a sapphire ring, and this I
pledged for twenty crowns, and made my way to the armourer's. I there
selected a long straight weapon, with a plain cross handle and a
cutting blade, such as would be useful for rough work, and, after some
haggling, got it for ten pieces. The armourer assured me that it was a
sound blade, and I may say it did me good service. It now hangs in my
bed-chamber, a little chipped, it is true, but as bright and as fit
for use as the day I paid for it, with a heavy heart, in Don Piero's
shop, near the gate of St. Lawrence in Arezzo.
I began now to feel the want of food, for beyond the cup of Chianti
brought to me by the under-officer I had tasted nothing since
yesterday evening, and therefore stepping into an ordinary called for
a flagon of wine and a pasty. Whilst engaged in assaulting these,
half-a-dozen men, whom I recognised as belonging to the garrison,
entered the hostel, but to my joy I saw I was not known to them, and
after a casual glance at me they fell to eating their meal.
I was however perforce compelled to listen to their conversation,
which was carried on in the loud tone men of their class affect, and
found to my annoyance that they were discussing me, and the events of
the day. In order to escape this I was about to rise, when I heard one
of them mention D'Entrangues' name, and stopped to listen.
"He has left for Florence, and, it is said, intends to offer his sword
to the Signory," said one.
"And the other?"
"Heaven knows! Perhaps Braccio's arm has reached him, poor devil!"
"Well, he was a good soldier and a stout lance."
"_Basta!_" said the first speaker. "What does a little lightness of
finger matter? Play it in a small way, you're a thief, and food for
Messer Braccio, curse him! Play it on a big scale and you're a prince.
I for one don't think the less of Di Savelli because perhaps his hand
at cards was always too good, and he made that little error in the
matter of the rubies. A gentleman is sometimes driven to hard straits.
I was a gentleman once and ought to know. I give you a toast--Here's
to a long sword and a light hand!"
They drank with acclamation, and then set to a-dicing. I had however
heard enough, and settling my account with the host, stepped forth
into the street, intending to depart from the town by the Porta San
Spirito or Roman Gate, leaving the camp over my shoulder, and to make
my way to Florence as soon as possible. There I would meet
D'Entrangues, and kill him like a mad dog. I ground my teeth with rage
when I thought I had no horse, nor even the means to purchase one, and
must trudge it like any _contadino_. But if I had to crawl on my hands
and knees, I was determined to reach Florence and D'Entrangues.
It was however not yet sundown, and my idea was to leave the city when
it was well dusk to avoid all possible chance of recognition. I meant
to have passed the interval in the inn; but, as I felt this was
impossible, it was necessary to find another spot where I could lay in
quiet. With this end in view I crossed the Piazza di Popolo in an
easterly direction, and went on until I came to the Franciscan church,
into which I entered, not, I am sorry to say, with any desire for
devotion, but merely because I was less likely to be disturbed there
than anywhere else I could imagine. I was right, in so far that on
entering the church I found it, as I thought, empty, but on looking
round I saw beneath the newly-completed wheel-window, the work of
Guillaume de Marseille, a kneeling figure, apparently absorbed in
prayer. I had approached quite close before I became aware that I was
not alone, and was about to turn away, when, perhaps startled by the
sound of my footfalls on the marble pavement, the person rose
hurriedly and looked towards me. It was Madame D'Entrangues. Her
glance met mine for a second as that of a stranger, but as I was
moving away some trick of gesture, or perhaps the hot anger in my
eyes, told her who I was, for, calling my name, she came towards me
with outstretched hands.
"Di Savelli," she said, for I made no advance, "do you not know me?"
"Madame," I bowed, "I am unfit to touch you."
"No, no--a thousand times no! It is I who am unworthy."
I still remained silent, and she asked with a passionate emphasis--
"Man, have you never sinned?"
The words struck me like a shot. I felt in a moment I had no right to
stand in judgment.
"God knows," I replied, "I have, and I have been punished."
With that she took hold of my hand, and then suddenly burst into
tears, weeping over me with words I cannot repeat. It was not for me
to fling reproaches, and I softened and did what I could to appease
her.
"I could not help it," she said, "I was not strong enough to speak or
to let you speak. Oh, you do not know what such a thing is to a
woman!"
"Let it pass, madame. What is dead is dead."
"I cannot. And yet, what can I do?" Her tears began afresh.
In a little time she grew better, and I seized the opportunity to
point out the danger she ran of being seen speaking to me, and
suggested that she should make her way home. It was impossible to
escort her myself, but I would walk a little way behind, keep her in
sight, and see she came to no harm. I urged this all the more as I saw
it was growing late, and that she was without any attendants and far
from the camp.
"You mistake," she said; "I have not far to go. In fact I am at
present the guest of the convent here."
"And----" I did not finish the sentence, but she understood. I had
forced myself to ask, to hear, if possible, confirmation of
D'Entrangues' movements.
"He," she answered--"he has left the army and gone towards Florence."
"And you?"
"I stay here for the present."
Her tone more than her words convinced me that she had been abandoned
by D'Entrangues, and it added another mark to my score against him.
"Why should I not tell you?" she continued. "After, when it was all
over, the duke struck his name off the army, and he left in an hour.
Before he went, he came and told me all, laughing at your ruin. I did
not know man could be so vile. God help me--it is my husband I speak
of! He offered to take me with him, but I refused; and he left,
mocking like a devil, with words I cannot repeat. He was not done with
you or with me, he said, as he went. I came here at once, and perhaps
when Madame de la Tremouille returns to France, I shall be enabled to
go with her in her train."
"Excuse my asking it," I said, "but have you----?"
"Oh, yes," she smiled sadly, "it is not that in any way."
At this moment I looked up and saw that it was sunset. Through the
wheel-window the orange beams streamed in a long banner, and lit up
the figure of the saint above us. The rays fell on madame's pale face,
and touched with fire the gold of her hair. We stood before each other
in a dead silence.
"Good-bye," I said, extending my hand.
She placed her own in it and our eyes met.
It was a moment of danger to both. Leper as I was, I had but to lift
my hand, but to say a word, and here was one who would have followed
me like a dog. I felt her weakness in her look, in the touch of her
hand, which shivered as it lay in mine like a captive bird. At once a
fire leapt up within me. I had lost all--everything. Why not throw
revenge after my losses, and with her by my side seek a new fortune
with a new name? The grand Turk needed soldiers, and what mattered it
whether it was cross or crescent that I served?'
But the woman became strong as I grew weak.
"Go!" she said faintly.
I dropped her hand, and, turning without a word, strode down the
aisle. As I reached the church door the bells of the Angelus rang out,
and yielding to a sudden impulse I looked back.
Madame was on her knees before the saint.
CHAPTER IV.
A FOOL'S CAP AND A SORE HEART.
I was not so dense as to fail to grasp the extent of the peril I had
escaped, or to fully realise the evil strength of the temptation,
which came upon me as suddenly as a sneeze. It is rare in matters of
this kind for wicked thoughts to be of slow growth; they spring at
once to life, full-armed. I thanked God in my heart that I was able to
sweep aside the base desire, which covered my soul like a black cloud,
and refrained from taking advantage of madame's momentary weakness. I
could not but see I was to blame myself.
I, the elder and the stronger, should have foreseen the probable
consequences of a friendship such as ours, and my sorrow for her was
mixed with the deepest regret for my part in the transaction. I
banished all idea of attacking D'Entrangues through his wife,
wondering at the littleness of spirit which had ever conceived such a
thought. If it were possible, I would have kicked myself. Perhaps such
victory as I gained over my heart was due to the secret springs of my
vanity being touched, to the fear of the loss of my self-respect, and