CHAPTER XXXVI

A FRESH ENTANGLEMENT

The Lenkenstein ladies returned to Milan proudly in the path of the army

which they had followed along the city walls on the black March midnight.

The ladies of the Austrian aristocracy generally had to be exiles from

Vienna, and were glad to flock together even in an alien city. Anna and

Lena were aware of Vittoria's residence in Milan, through the interchange

of visits between the Countess of Lenkenstein and her sister Signora

Piaveni. They heard also of Vittoria's prospective and approaching

marriage to Count Ammiani. The Duchess of Graatli, who had forborne a

visit to her unhappy friends, lest her Austrian face should wound their

sensitiveness, was in company with the Lenkensteins one day, when Irma di

Karski called on them. Irma had come from Lago Maggiore, where she had

left her patron, as she was pleased to term Antonio-Pericles. She was

full of chatter of that most worthy man's deplorable experiences of

Vittoria's behaviour to him during the war, and of many things besides.

According to her account, Vittoria had enticed him from place to place

with promises that the next day, and the next day, and the day after, she

would be ready to keep her engagement to go to London, and at last she

had given him the slip and left him to be plucked like a pullet by a

horde of volunteer banditti, out of whose hands Antonio-Pericles-"one of

our richest millionaires in Europe, certainly our richest amateur," said

Irma--escaped in fit outward condition for the garden of Eden.

Count Karl was lying on the sofa, and went into endless invalid's

laughter at the picture presented by Irma of the 'wild man' wanderings of

poor infatuated Pericles, which was exaggerated, though not

intentionally, for Irma repeated the words and gestures of Pericles in

the recital of his tribulations. Being of a somewhat similar physical

organization, she did it very laughably. Irma declared that Pericles was

cured of his infatuation. He had got to Turin, intending to quit Italy

for ever, when--"he met me," said Irma modestly.

"And heard that the war was at an end," Count Karl added.

"And he has taken the superb Villa Ricciardi, on Lago Maggiore, where he

will have a troupe of singers, and perform operas, in which I believe I

may possibly act as prima donna. The truth is, I would do anything to

prevent him from leaving the country."

But Irma had more to say; with "I bear no malice," she commenced it. The

story she had heard was that Count Ammiani, after plighting himself to a

certain signorina, known as Vittoria Campa, had received tidings that she

was one of those persons who bring discredit on Irma's profession.

"Gifted by nature, I can acknowledge," said Irma; "but devoured by

vanity--a perfect slave to the appetite for praise; ready to forfeit

anything for flattery! Poor signor Antonio-Pericles!--he knows her." And

now Count Ammiani, persuaded to reason by his mother, had given her up.

There was nothing more positive, for Irma had seen him in the society of

Countess Violetta d'Isorella.

Anna and Lena glanced at their brother Karl.

"I should not allude to what is not notorious," Irma pursued. "They are

always together. My dear Antonio-Pericles is most amusing in his

expressions of delight at it. For my part, though she served me an evil

turn once,--you will hardly believe, ladies, that in her jealousy of me

she was guilty of the most shameful machinations to get me out of the way

on the night of the first performance of Camilla,--but, for my part, I

bear no malice. The creature is an inveterate rebel, and I dislike her

for that, I do confess."

"The signorina Vittoria Campa is my particular and very dear friend,"

said the duchess.

"She is not the less an inveterate rebel," said Anna.

Count Karl gave a long-drawn sigh. "Alas, that she should have brought

discredit on Fraulein di Karski's profession!"

The duchess hurried straightway to Laura, with whom was Count

Serabiglione, reviewing the present posture of affairs from the

condescending altitudes of one that has foretold it. Laura and Amalia

embraced and went apart. During their absence Vittoria came down to the

count and listened to a familiar illustration of his theory of the

relations which should exist between Italy and Austria, derived from the

friendship of those two women.

"What I wish you to see, signorina, is that such an alliance is possible;

and, if we supply the brains, as we do, is by no means likely to be

degrading. These bears are absolutely on their knees to us for good

fellowship. You have influence, you have amazing wit, you have

unparalleled beauty, and, let me say it with the utmost sadness, you have

now had experience. Why will you not recognize facts? Italian unity! I

have exposed the fatuity--who listens? Italian freedom! I do not attempt

to reason with my daughter. She is pricked by an envenomed fly of Satan.

Yet, behold her and the duchess! It is the very union I preach; and I am,

I declare to you, signorina, in great danger. I feel it, but I persist. I

am in danger" (Count Serabiglione bowed his head low) "of the

transcendent sin of scorn of my species."

The little nobleman swayed deploringly in his chair. "Nothing is so

perilous for a soul's salvation as that. The one sane among madmen! The

one whose reason is left to him among thousands who have forsaken it! I

beg you to realize the idea. The Emperor, as I am given to understand, is

about to make public admission of my services. I shall be all the more

hated. Yet it is a considerable gain. I do not deny that I esteem it as a

promotion for my services. I shall not be the first martyr in this world,

signorina."

Count Serabiglione produced a martyr's smile.

"The profits of my expected posts will be," he was saying, with a

reckoning eye cast upward into his cranium for accuracy, when Laura

returned, and Vittoria ran out to the duchess. Amalia repeated Irma's

tattle. A curious little twitching of the brows at Violetta d'Isorella's

name marked the reception of it.

"She is most lovely," Vittoria said.

"And absolutely reckless."

"She is an old friend of Count Ammiani's."

"And you have an old friend here. But the old friend of a young woman--I

need not say further than that it is different."

The duchess used the privilege of her affection, and urged Vittoria not

to trifle with her lover's impatience.

Admitted to the chamber where Merthyr lay, she was enabled to make

allowance for her irresolution. The face of the wounded man was like a

lake-water taking light from Vittoria's presence.

"This may go on for weeks," she said to Laura.

Three days later, Vittoria received an order from the Government to quit

the city within a prescribed number of hours, and her brain was racked to

discover why Laura appeared so little indignant at the barbarous act of

despotism. Laura undertook to break the bad news to Merthyr. The parting

was as quiet and cheerful as, in the opposite degree, Vittoria had

thought it would be melancholy and regretful. "What a Government!"

Merthyr said, and told her to let him hear of any changes. "All changes

that please my friends please me."

Vittoria kissed his forehead with one grateful murmur of farewell to the

bravest heart she had ever known. The going to her happiness seemed more

like going to something fatal until she reached the Lago Maggiore. There

she saw September beauty, and felt as if the splendour encircling her

were her bridal decoration. But no bridegroom stood to greet her on the

terrace-steps between the potted orange and citron-trees. Countess

Ammiani extended kind hands to her at arms' length.

"You have come," she said. "I hope that it is not too late."

Vittoria was a week without sight of her lover: nor did Countess Ammiani

attempt to explain her words, or speak of other than common daily things.

In body and soul Vittoria had taken a chill. The silent blame resting on

her in this house called up her pride, so that she would not ask any

questions; and when Carlo came, she wanted warmth to melt her. Their

meeting was that of two passionless creatures. Carlo kissed her loyally,

and courteously inquired after her health and the health of friends in

Milan, and then he rallied his mother. Agostino had arrived with him, and

the old man, being in one of his soft moods, unvexed by his conceits,

Vittoria had some comfort from him of a dull kind. She heard Carlo

telling his mother that he must go in the morning. Agostino replied to

her quick look at him, "I stay;" and it seemed like a little saved from

the wreck, for she knew that she could speak to Agostino as she could not

to the countess. When his mother prepared to retire, Carlo walked over to

his bride, and repeated rapidly and brightly his inquiries after friends

in Milan. She, with a pure response to his natural-unnatural manner,

spoke of Merthyr Powys chiefly: to which he said several times, "Dear

fellow!" and added, "I shall always love Englishmen for his sake."

This gave her one throb. "I could not leave him, Carlo."

"Certainly not, certainly not," said Carlo. "I should have been happy to

wait on him myself. I was busy; I am still. I dare say you have guessed

that I have a new journal in my head: the Pallanza Iris is to be the name

of it;--to be printed in three colours, to advocate three principles, in

three styles. The Legitimists, the Moderates, and the Republicans are to

proclaim themselves in its columns in prose, poetry, and hotch-potch.

Once an editor, always an editor. The authorities suspect that something

of the sort is about to be planted, so I can only make occasional visits

here:--therefore, as you will believe,"--Carlo let his voice fall--"I

have good reason to hate them still. They may cease to persecute me

soon."

He insisted upon lighting his mother to her room. Vittoria and Agostino

sat talking of the Chief and the minor events of the war--of Luciano,

Marco, Giulio, and Ugo Corte--till the conviction fastened on them that

Carlo would not return, when Agostino stood up and said, yawning wearily,

"I'll talk further to you, my child, tomorrow."

She begged that it might be now.

"No; to-morrow," said he.

"Now, now!" she reiterated, and brought down a reproof from his

fore-finger.

"The poetic definition of 'now' is that it is a small boat, my daughter,

in which the female heart is constantly pushing out to sea and sinking.

'To-morrow' is an island in the deeps, where grain grows. When I land you

there, I will talk to you."

She knew that he went to join Carlo after he had quitted her.

Agostino was true to his promise next day. He brought her nearer to what

she had to face, though he did not help her vision much. Carlo had gone

before sunrise.

They sat on the terrace above the lake, screened from the sunlight by

thick myrtle bushes. Agostino smoked his loosely-rolled cigarettes, and

Vittoria sipped chocolate and looked upward to the summit of Motterone,

with many thoughts and images in her mind.

He commenced by giving her a love-message from Carlo. "Hold fast to it

that he means it: conduct is never a straight index where the heart's

involved," said the chuckling old man; "or it is not in times like ours.

You have been in the wrong, and your having a good excuse will not help

you before the deciding fates. Woman that you are! did you not think that

because we were beaten we were going to rest for a very long while, and

that your Carlo of yesterday was going to be your Carlo of to-day?"

Vittoria tacitly confessed to it.

"Ay," he pursued, "when you wrote to him in the Val d'Intelvi, you

supposed you had only to say, 'I am ready,' which was then the case. You

made your summer and left the fruits to hang, and now you are astounded

that seasons pass and fruits drop. You should have come to this place, if

but for a pair of days, and so have fixed one matter in the chapter. This

is how the chapter has run on. I see I talk to a stunned head; you are

thinking that Carlo's love for you can't have changed: and it has not,

but occasion has gone and times have changed. Now listen. The countess

desired the marriage. Carlo could not go to you in Milan with the sword

in his hand. Therefore you had to come to him. He waited for you, perhaps

for his own preposterous lover's sake as much as to make his mother's

heart easy. If she loses him she loses everything, unless he leaves a

wife to her care and the hope that her House will not be extinct, which

is possibly not much more the weakness of old aristocracy than of human

nature.

"Meantime, his brothers in arms had broken up and entered Piedmont, and

he remained waiting for you still. You are thinking that he had not

waited a month. But if four months finished Lombardy, less than one month

is quite sufficient to do the same for us little beings. He met the

Countess d'Isorella here. You have to thank her for seeing him at all, so

don't wrinkle your forehead yet. Luciano Romara is drilling his men in

Piedmont; Angelo Guidascarpi has gone there. Carlo was considering it his

duty to join Luciano, when he met this lady, and she has apparently

succeeded in altering his plans. Luciano and his band will go to Rome.

Carlo fancies that another blow will be struck for Lombardy. This lady

should know; the point is, whether she can be trusted. She persists in

declaring that Carlo's duty is to remain, and--I cannot tell how, for I

am as a child among women--she has persuaded him of her sincerity. Favour

me now with your clearest understanding, and deliver it from feminine

sensations of any description for just two minutes."

Agostino threw away the end of a cigarette and looked for firmness in

Vittoria's eyes.

"This Countess d'Isorella is opposed to Carlo's marriage at present. She

says that she is betraying the king's secrets, and has no reliance on a

woman. As a woman you will pardon her, for it is the language of your

sex. You are also denounced by Barto Rizzo, a madman--he went mad as

fire, and had to be chained at Varese. In some way or other Countess

d'Isorella got possession of him; she has managed to subdue him. A

sword-cut he received once in Verona has undoubtedly affected his brain,

or caused it to be affected under strong excitement. He is at her villa,

and she says--perhaps with some truth--that Carlo would in several ways

lose his influence by his immediate marriage with you. The reason must

have weight; otherwise he would fulfil his mother's principal request,

and be at the bidding of his own desire. There; I hope I have spoken

plainly."

Agostino puffed a sigh of relief at the conclusion of his task.

Vittoria had been too strenuously engaged in defending the steadiness of

her own eyes to notice the shadow of an assumption of frankness in his.

She said that she understood.

She got away to her room like an insect carrying a load thrice its own

size. All that she could really gather from Agostino's words was, that

she felt herself rocking in a tower, and that Violetta d'Isorella was

beautiful. She had striven hard to listen to him with her wits alone, and

her sensations subsequently revenged themselves in this fashion. The

tower rocked and struck a bell that she discovered to be her betraying

voice uttering cries of pain. She was for hours incapable of meeting

Agostino again. His delicate intuition took the harshness off the

meeting. He led her even to examine her state of mind, and to discern the

fancies from the feelings by which she was agitated. He said shrewdly and

bluntly, "You can master pain, but not doubt. If you show a sign of

unhappiness, remember that I shall know you doubt both what I have told

you, and Carlo as well."

Vittoria fenced: "But is there such a thing as happiness?"

"I should imagine so," said Agostino, touching her cheek, "and

slipperiness likewise. There's patience at any rate; only you must dig

for it. You arrive at nothing, but the eternal digging constitutes the

object gained. I recollect when I was a raw lad, full of ambition, in

love, and without a franc in my pockets, one night in Paris, I found

myself looking up at a street lamp; there was a moth in it. He couldn't

get out, so he had very little to trouble his conscience. I think he was

near happiness: he ought to have been happy. My luck was not so good, or

you wouldn't see me still alive, my dear."

Vittoria sighed for a plainer speaker.