My Italian Adventure, Chapter II [pp. 536-539]

1S71..21fY ITALIAN AD VENTURE. 539
brief s,paratrtion appeared to be only a sacrifice to the jealous gods
before tliev would allow me to be as happy as man can be on earth.
At home I found thiings in a better condition than I had imagined
them during the anxious hours of mlly long journey. My sister was
out of danger, and the pleasure of seeing me and the news I brought
seemed to hasten iher recovery.
Their going with me to Bologna on my return was, however, not
to be thought of. My sister could not leave her babe, and our busi ness imperatively demanded either my brother-ii-law's personal su pervision or my own. I had been home scarcely two weeks when
both my brother and sister, glad as they were to have me with them,
urged me to return to Bologna, for, in spite of the faithful promises
Beatrice and I had made to write as often as we could, and although
I had not missed a single post, still not a line had I received from
her. During my first week at home I was inexhaustible in finding
reasons for my disappointment, but, when the week became a fort night, my anxiety became unendurable. My only consolation was
that no great misfortune could have happened to my brlide, for, if
there had, our correspondent in Bologna would certainly have in formed me of it.
I felt that I must return, without further delay, if I would retain
my reason. My frame of mind as I travelled day and night can be
more easily imagined than described.
It was early morning when my travelling-carriage dashed along the
familiar road and arrived at the trellised gate of the villa. I
alighted with nervous haste, and pulled the bell violently. Some mo ments elapsed before my old friend Fabio appeared at the little side door. When lie recognized me, he seemed greatly startled, and, with out taking time to button his waistcoat over his naked breast, be
hastened toward me with so disturbed a mien, that I cried out in
agony, "She is dead!"
He shook his head, and hastily opened the gate; but my sudden
appearance had so surprised and confused him that it was very difficult for me to obtain from him an account of what had happened
during my absence.
And then, on account of my pallor and worn appearance,' he
sought to spare me by withholding what he knew must be unwelcome
intelligence, while he could in no way have so tormented me as by his
hesitation.
He was uninformed with regard to much that had been done privately; he ha l obtained only a general knowledge of the state of
affairs from Nina.
I, who knew the actors in the hellish conspiracy of which he gave
me the outlines, was not one moment in doubt with regard to the
prime mover in the whole affair.
Ihardly had I quitted Bologna when the cousin appeared on the
scene from Rome, and preferred his absurd claim to the hand of
Beatrice. Did he return, at the suggestion of any one, because I left,
or would he have returned when he did had I remained? I could
never ascertain.
"He is not much like an Apollo, nor is he any more of a Cresus,"
said Fabio. "A life of gambling, revels, and adventures, has considerably reduced his fortune, which was never large; but, being of
the nobility, and having an uncle who is a cardinal, many people
think him a very desirable match. Bicetta always disliked him."
Fabio remembered that she, some three years previously, one day
when he was at the villa, boxed his ears for venturing to kiss his
little cousin, and, further, that he, laughing, protested he would make
her pay for it When she became his wife. Now, the time was near at
hand when he hoped to put his threat into execution. The step-mother
and all those who had most influence in the matter were on his side, and
they had so terrified the old general by talking damnation to him if he
married his daughter to a heretic, that they had silenced him, and
now had every thing their own way. But, when he saw Bicetta, his
eyes would fill with tears, and he would sit in his arm-chair and sob
by the hour, like a child. He had ceased to even speak to his wife,
for he knew that she was at the bottom of it all.
"And Beatrice? ". I asked.
"Ah, poor, dear girl!" exclaimed the old man, "who can understand her? At first, when they said any thing about her giving up
the Lutheran, as they call you, she would answer:'I have pledged
my faith to him in the sight of Heaven, and I will keep it, come what
will!' Then, when the cousin had sought to persuade her, she calmly
sai(d to him:' You are wasting your time and words, Richino; even
b had I never met Amadeo, I should never have loved you.' Then,
when he attempted to take her hand, and say sweet things to her, she
drew herself up and said, in the hearing of Nina:' You are a miser able coward, sir, or you would not attempt to take the hand of a
woman who tells you she is anotler's! Be gone, I despise you!'
And since lthen she has not and will not see him; still the marriage
is decided on. Bicetta goes about silently, and never sheds a tear,
Nina says. She has even ceased to entreat her father,!.er step mother, or any one, even hieaven, I dare say, to prevent these nup tials. She has no more received your letters than you have received
hers, several of which I nmyself have carried to the post. It seems
that the gentlemen at the post-office know what is expected of them
when the nephew of a cardinal wishes to carry off the bride of a for eigner. But it is strange that she should have yielded so soon, for
she cannot doubt your fidelity. Nina says they have threatened to
put her in a convent if she does not marry this cousin, and surely a
convent is no place for our Bicetta. Still, I think it would have been
better than to marry this man since she loves another. Her conduct
is too much for my old hea;d and for my daughter's, too; for she can
no more understand her than I can."
While the kind-hearted old man was telling me all this, I sat, more
dead than alive, in a chair opposite the chimney, where we had
first pledged our troth. I was incapable of reflection; yes, even the
power to feel-to love or to hate-seemed to have been suddenly
paralyzed within me.
After a long pause, I recovered sufficient command over myself to
inquire when the marriage was to take place.
"This afternoon,"' replied the old man, in a hesitating tone.
I sprang to my feet, roused from my lethargic mood by the near ness of the event.
"Good Heavens!" cried Fabio, seizing me by the hands, and
looking anxiously in my face, "what are you going to do? You
know not - how powerful they are. If you were to appear openly in
the street, who knows whether you would be living to-morrow?"
"I will seek him out," said I, " and tell him that the world is not
large enough for both of us, that one of us must die. You certainly
can furnish me with a pair of pistols, Fabio.. I shall want nothing
more; but now leave me for a while."
"A duel!" cried Fabio. "Think of poor Bicetta! What would
she say?"
"True!" I replied; and I again felt completely unmanned. "I
know not what she would say, but know I must do something, or I
shall go mad. Let go my hand and give me my hat.. I will go to
her, and, if they close their doors against me, I will force them.
Circumstances shall determine the rest."
Buthe would not let me gg. He led meback to my chair, and said:
"I certainly do not need to assure you that no one has your welfare more at heart, or the welfare of the signorina and her father
more at heart than your old friend Fabio. You must, therefore, listen
to my advice, and not run headlong to destruction. If you imagine
you would be allowed to see her, you are greatly mistaken. The
house, on account of the wedding, is full of new servants. You
would fare badly if you should endeavor to see your betrothed with
this face. Let me go; they will not refuse me admission, although
the signora is not very favorably disposed toward me. In any event,
I could ask to see my daughter; so, if you will give me a few lines,
you may rely with greater certainty on their beingkliehvered than if you
intrusted them to the papal post. Sit down there by the window and
write her a note, and, if I know our Bicetta, you will get a reply."
-He hastened to bring me writing-materials; but I was so completely unstrung, that I could not hold the pen.
"Never mind," said the old man. "It is not really necessary for
you to write. Is it not sufficient to let her know )'ou are returned.
If she then still consents to this marriage, a hundred letters would be
of no avail."
With this, he left me; but he first exacted a solemn promise from
me that I w ould not leave the house, which was now occupied by no
one but him, and that I would open the door to him alone. The sun
had now risen above the horizon. The old man returned to me, bringing some bread and wine, for he saw I was sadly in need of something
to give me strength; and then, after repeating all his injunctions once
more, lie set out, leaving me alone in the death-like stillness of this
old country-house.
[To B,E CONCLUDE D.]
t
iVY IT-ALI'AT -A1 VjEArT-rRE.
18i71.]
539