Part 8

But immediately the instinctive need for excusing herself called up the reasons that had led her to be persuaded; namely, her fear of being bound to that other crazy man, who wished to become her husband by force; the pitying promise which she had allowed her lips to utter that day in the hospital because of having listened to that fool Martinelli. “Bah!” she thought. “And when that crazy man comes out of the hospital furious, he, my husband, will defend me, recognizing the reason for which I consented to play the buffoon.”

She began to unfasten her gown. Suddenly she stopped; it was useless, since she was to sleep sitting in the chair. Another lie this, unearthed to prevent herself from acknowledging a foolish hope which she knew could not be realized even in a dream. She extinguished the lamp, she seated herself in the armchair. Through the silence that reigned in the street below she listened intently, unconsciously. Where was he at this hour? Perhaps in some café with his friends. And she imagined the room of a café, illuminated, and saw them all, her boarders, seated there at little tables, and he was laughing, laughing, and answering witticisms. Certainly her name was in every one’s mouth, and derided. What did it matter to her? She waited for the noisy reunion to come to an end that she might see him alone. Where would he go? Home? Or would he perhaps--perhaps go elsewhere? At this thought she paused, as before an unexpected abyss, taken aback. Why, yes, yes! Was he not absolutely free?

And she was seated there in the armchair. Oh, fool, oh, madwoman! And she found sleep impossible.

V

No, Biagio Speranza had not gone to the café, as Carolinona had imagined.

Annoyed by the jokes of his friends, he had gone home, with the firm determination of setting out for Barcelona the next day, and making an end of it.

He had begun preparing what he needed for the journey, when he thought that he had not enough money for this hastened departure. And then, confronted with this material obstacle, he agreed that, on the whole, flight was not worthy of him. Yes, yes; he had really done wrong to be annoyed, to sneak away thus. And he must not abandon to the wrath of Cocco Bertolli that poor woman who had nothing to do with these pranks, who would keep to her agreement, and would never annoy or molest him; of that he was sure.

“Poor Carolinona!” he thought with a smile. “With what a look she pronounced that ‘yes’ with a glance at the official, as much as to say: ‘You see what value that can have! For my part, I do not think that one should jest thus, but these young fellows thought that there was no harm in it, and here I am to satisfy them. What else could I do? I must write too? Sign my name?’”

He went to bed, and was not long in falling asleep. He had bad dreams! Carolinona would not listen to reason; was she or was she not his wife? And she wished to enjoy all her rights--ready, oh, most ready, to take upon herself all her duties. She seized him by the arm and did not intend to let him go. But how about their agreement? It was all a joke! Joke? She had really signed the contract. And therefore he must stay here with her. Infamy, treachery! All the doors closed? Kicks, pinches, blows at each door. In vain! Oh, what grief, what rage, what agony! Behind those closed, bolted doors the friends laughed as though they would split their sides: Cariolin, Scossi, Cedebonis, and even Martinelli. Trunfo sneered. An infamous conspiracy! Did they then wish his death? No, no, even if it cost him his life, no; he would not be made to sleep in that bed. Ah, they would take him by force? They were binding him? Cowards! So many against one! Softly, softly! There at the throat, no--Ah, they were suffocating him--

He rose late, and in the worst of humors. He would go to the pension as usual that day, and by his manner would make his friends understand that it was time to be done with the whole affair.

That evening all the other boarders, including Trunfo, arrived at the house. Then Biagio Speranza arrived, and was at once assailed with questions.

“Why, of course! Naturally!” he answered with a gay face. “When did I return? Exactly at midnight. The hour of fantasy. The door was closed, and she, the very one who has been denying it, threw me down the key from her window. Why deny it, my wife? We owe this satisfaction to our friends who are so interested in our conjugal felicity. And this evening you will see me remain here at my post, as master of the house; and I hope that this will satisfy you, and that from now on you will allow me to enjoy the pleasures of married life in peace. Is it agreed?”

He seated himself beside Carolinona; during the meal he ostentatiously displayed, amid general merriment, all the attentions, the manners of an enamored monkey which a newly married man should show to his bride, and Carolinona let him have his way, and laughed too.

At a certain point Trunfo gruffly asked Biagio Speranza: “Will you permit me to continue correcting my papers here?”

“No, no!” Biagio hastened to reassure him. “You, dear _maestro_, are free to suit your own convenience here by day or night. Am I not right, Carolinona?”

“The _maestro_,” said she, somewhat quietly, “has never caused me the least annoyance.”

“Very well then!” concluded Trunfo, rising.

He made a quick, slight bow, with his hands resting on the back of his chair, and left the room, suffocated with bile.

“My friends,” remarked Biagio Speranza, a little later, “in the interest of my wife, I advise you to stop, if you do not wish to make her lose a client. A joke is all very well, but it should not be allowed to injure the pocket--”

“Oh, as for you, joking aside,” declared Cariolin, rising from the table with the others, “keep your promise, and do not take this excuse. We are going, and wish you a pleasant evening.”

“I,” added Scossi, “shall remain with Cedebonis outside the door on guard; and you may be sure that I will not let you escape.”

“You may all be sure that I shall not escape,” replied Biagio Speranza, accompanying his fellow boarders to the door.

Carolinona began to feel uneasy, not knowing what this crazy fellow would do next.

“What fools, eh?” said Biagio, once more entering the dining-room. “And they are really capable of waiting outside in the street, do you know it?”

Carolinona tried to smile and look at him, but she lowered her eyes promptly.

“Do you know that our position is actually ridiculous?” resumed Biagio, breaking out into his sonorous laughter. “But we must do this in order to have peace. Otherwise they will never have done. I will wait a half hour before I go; you must have patience.”

“Oh, as for me, of course,” said she, without raising her eyes, and faintly.

Biagio Speranza looked at her. He was very calm himself, and thought that she ought to be so, too. But noting Carolinona’s embarrassment he laughed again. Wounded by this laugh, she raised her eyes, and, trying as best she could to hide the bitterness with a smile, said:

“You are a man, and they all know that you are only doing this to make them laugh. Although, if I am to tell the truth, I do not see that it is a joke any longer, now that it has arrived at this point--They are all laughing at you and me--”

“Let us laugh too!” concluded Biagio. “Why not?”

“Because I can not,” promptly replied Carolinona. “Pardon me, but you must understand that it can not please me that you, to make an end to an annoying joke, are forced to make me play a part that does not suit me--”

“What!” exclaimed Biagio. “The rôle of wife! By heavens, you ought to thank me.”

Carolinona took fire. “Pardon me, and am I to thank you also for the words you said to Trunfo on my account? Your wife for a joke I understand; but since you have committed the folly of giving me your name in the eyes of the law, it seems to me, I do not know, but it seems to me that you ought at least to show that you do not believe certain calumnies, and not make a jest of them. Because they are calumnies I would have you to know! The vilest calumnies! I have always attended to my own business. I am poor, yes, but honest, honest! It is well that you should know it. And you may set your mind at rest on this point--”

Biagio looked at her and let his arms fall. “You alarm me, Carolinona! I did not believe you capable of telling the truth with such insistence and such warmth. I believe you, I believe you--but let me look out of this window and see if those tiresome fellows are gone, and we will make an end to this at once.”

He went to the window and looked out into the street. “No one,” said he, turning away. “I am sorry that the joke has finished really badly. Enough; the thing is done, and we must think no more about it. Good-by, eh?”

He held out his hand; the Pentoni hesitatingly laid her own, fat and black, in it, murmuring: “Good-by.” Then, all vibrating with emotion, she shut herself up in her room, and burst into tears.

Biagio Speranza, having taken a few steps, saw, spying in the shadows of the little square opposite the door, instead of Scossi and Cedebonis, Signor Martinelli, who was rubbing his hands with the cold. The good man was quite robbed of breath at hearing his name called. Then a hand smote him sharply on the shoulder.

“What are you doing here, my fine fellow? Tell me, were you perhaps waiting until I should have gone away to--”

“May Heaven forbid! What are you saying, Signor Speranza?” stammered poor Martinelli, so tremblingly that Biagio could not keep from laughing. “I--I was just going--”

“And meanwhile you are here!” replied Biagio, recovering himself, and pretending to be severe. He took him by the arm, and added as they moved away: “Come, let us go, and explain to me--”

“But, sir--” Martinelli hastened to reply, greatly embarrassed, “I confess--since you, yes, I say--since you suspected me--(May Heaven defend me!) I confess that I remained here, not so much out of curiosity, as because--yes, I say--to congratulate myself that finally you had recognized the--the--the sacredness of the bond, because--”

“And am I really to believe you?” Biagio interrupted him, standing still. “You stood there in the shadow like a vile deceiver; you can not deny it.”

“But pray do not say that even in jest!” cried Signor Martinelli, his eyes turned heavenward, and forcing himself to smile. “Pardon me, but at my age? And then she--a thoroughly virtuous woman, I would swear it--And she has always been so--so good to me, has always confided--yes, I say--confided so many things to me, poor thing--And I stood there, believe me, congratulating myself--that--”

“You must excuse me! Good-by!” Biagio Speranza hastily interrupted him, withdrew his arm, and hurried after a flashily dressed woman who at that moment emerged from a café.

Martino Martinelli stood there, abandoned in the middle of the street; involuntarily he raised his hand to his hat, then his eyes followed for a time the couple who went away together laughing loudly, perhaps at him, perhaps at the Pentoni; and he shook his head sorrowfully, wounded.

VI

Neither the next evening nor the following ones did Biagio Speranza come to the pension.

Momo Cariolin and Dario Scossi ceased teasing Carolinona after the first evening, and, truth to say, she was somewhat distant with them. Trunfo tried to take his revenge by reminding them how he had warned them not to joke stupidly in a matter that had no joke in it. Cedebonis gave himself no peace, thinking that with this marriage had been celebrated the funeral of mirth, and for several evenings he repeated this phrase, which seemed to him particularly felicitous. He alone, with his Calabrian obstinacy, continued fuming; he fumed because the fire would not once more burst forth with the fine witticisms of former days. But no one paid any attention to him, and he consoled himself after a fashion, thinking that a renewal of this huge joke was inevitable, in one way or another, as soon as Cocco Bertolli should leave the hospital.

Trunfo, meanwhile, who had resumed his former habits, between one note and another of his hissed opera, instigated Carolinona to avenge herself.

At these vindictive exhortations of his a desire for vengeance flamed in the heart of the Pentoni; but soon after, suffocated, as though the flame had suddenly become smoke--a slow, dense smoke--she buried her face in her hands, and shook her head bitterly.

“Make good your rights,” said Trunfo. “A woman never lacks for means.” But she really recognized no rights of hers, and saw no means. He had made the terms of the agreement plain to her in advance. It was true, they were injurious, even shameful for her, but had she not accepted them? And if there arose in her heart a sentiment she had never before felt, and which she was not capable of explaining to herself, but which tormented her, and which she blushed for without respite, what fault was it of his? He had given her but a single cause for offense; he did not wish to believe in her honesty. What vengeance could she take for that? Possibly, if she felt herself capable of it, she might actually deceive him--But no, never! She inclined rather toward the advice of Martinelli, who counseled her to win him by fair means, to soften him.

“Write to him,” finally advised Martinelli. “Ask him to come as before, to do at least--yes, I say--his duty, now that that other--yes, I say--that example of the wrath of God is about to leave the hospital.”

“Have you news of him?” asked Carolinona.

Yes, Signor Martinelli had news, but he gave it to her with compunction, anxiously. Unfortunately, that “wrath of God” would be discharged in two or three days--the beast! One of the nurses had told him that while he was already convalescent he heard of this marriage and had had a relapse. “A dangerous fellow, dangerous!” finished Signor Martino. “So much so that I would almost advise you to go to the police without further delay.” Poor Pentoni stood pondering for a moment, then smiled.

“Signor Martino, do you know what I have decided? I shall not do anything. I will not move even a finger. Let Bertolli come and beat me. Or perhaps he will wish to kill me? It would really be laughable. Let us leave it to God!”

Now that is all very well; God is great, omnipotent, watches over all, protects the good and the oppressed. Nevertheless, Martinelli thought it well to inform Scossi and Cedebonis of the violent designs with which Cocco Bertolli would leave the hospital. It was therefore decided, after a long confabulation, to send Scossi to the home of Biagio Speranza, whom no one had seen since that day he had disappeared; and if he was not at home, a note was to be left, warning him of the Pentoni’s danger; if he was away, Scossi was to learn his address and telegraph him.

He was neither at home nor out of town. Dario Scossi was obliged to hire a cab and repair to a farm belonging to Speranza’s old landlady, some three kilometers outside of the city gates. Yes, Biagio had been there for four days and was to remain until his departure for Barcelona; he had warned his landlady not to tell any one where he had taken refuge, and the landlady, as we have seen, had kept her promise. But it really was a question of something serious?

“Most serious! Most serious!” Scossi reassured her.

Having thus forced the citadel, Scossi began to feel the real necessity for believing in the danger that threatened Carolinona, and in the dreadfulness of Cocco Bertolli, so that he might have courage enough to face Biagio Speranza. The cab finally stopped before a rustic gate, consisting of a single bar, supported on posts not less rustic, behind which rose two tall cypress trees. A narrow path led up from the gate, between the vines, to the little knoll, on the summit of which stood the small house, amid trees. What poetry! What a dream! What quietude!

Before ringing the bell, Scossi glanced up the path for a few minutes; suddenly he heard the shrill squawks of geese, then the voice of Biagio Speranza, calling gaily: “Nannetta! Nannetta!”

Oh, wretch; Oh, renegade! A true idyl! He began to regret having come. “Shall I wait?” asked the driver.

“Yes, wait. I will ring.” He rang very softly; the tongue of the bell barely touched the edge, without giving a sound. Suddenly he pulled the chain, and the bell rang furiously. “It is done! Now the deluge! By Jove!”

Up at the end of the path an old peasant shortly afterward presented himself, who, seeing the cab outside the gate, hastened to come down. “What do you wish, sir?”

“Speranza.”

“What do you mean? Oh, yes, sir, you mean the young gentleman. He is here.” He opened the gate, and Scossi entered. Again the geese squawked from above, and the old peasant began to laugh, shaking his head. “Biagio!” exclaimed Scossi. “What is he doing?”

“Oh, he does and thinks of a hundred things,” replied the peasant. “Come and see. He has put soldiers’ caps on the poor geese, and drives them thus toward the lady who stands down there by the garden fountain.”

“Nannetta, Nannetta!” once more cried Biagio from above. “Look at Carolinona, who comes at a run! I have made her corporal.”

“Horrible!” cried Dario Scossi, presenting himself on the level stretch of ground.

“Dario!” exclaimed Biagio Speranza, amazed. “What! You here?” And he came toward him. But Scossi drew back a step, and gazed at him severely.

“You give a goose the name of your wife?”

“Oh, be quiet!” replied Biagio, shaking himself. “Have you come even out here to annoy me? How did you know?”

Scossi then explained the reasons for his coming, told him that it was neither just nor fair for him to leave that poor woman yonder in her embarrassment, and that his presence at the pension was urgently required for three or four days at least. Biagio Speranza grew discouraged.

Suddenly there arrived at a run, her face crimson, a straw hat on her beautiful, ruffled, tawny hair, Nannetta, the same woman whom Signor Martinelli had seen coming out the café that evening.

“Well, Biagio? Oh, pardon me, how do you do, sir--”

“Good day, my dear,” replied Scossi, holding out his hand.

But Nannetta held her own in the air.

“I can not. They are dripping wet. If you like, with his permission, you may give me a little kiss here.” And she offered her flaming cheek.

“Do you permit?” asked Scossi, moved to compunction. “Her hands are wet--”

“One only,” replied Biagio gloomily. “There is nothing to be said. I shall have to go.”

“Is your wife sending for you?” asked Nannetta sadly, her cheek still upturned, upon which Scossi was all the while imprinting a series of soft kisses. “Oh, that is enough, sir; one only, I beg of you. Your wife, then?”

“Oh, do not you too annoy me!” cried Biagio, exasperated. “You may thank your God, Scossi, that I have not a stick in my hand. Get out at once. I shall return to the city to-morrow. This evening I am going to make up for it all by staying here. I shall wring the neck of the goose that looks so like her and eat it all for supper, with the appetite of a cannibal. Get out!”

But Nannetta wished to keep Scossi for dinner. At table Biagio explained to him why he had escaped.

“I do not say that she actually loves me; but it is near, do you know? Who would ever have expected it? Of course I understand that I am a very good-looking fellow, agreeable--” Nannetta protested with a laugh.

“And I assure you that she gave me a veritable lecture like a real wife.”

“Poor woman!” cried Nannetta. “If what you say is true, then all of you, especially you, Biagio, have been cruel beyond comparison. Go, make up to her for it now. Believe me, it is the best thing that you can do.”

Biagio Speranza did not open his lips, but opened his eyes very wide, and stared at Nannetta with such an expression that she smiled, and repeated: “Poor woman!”

“Enough, enough, my dear!” interrupted Scossi. “Or you will keep him from ever returning to the city.”

“No, no,” said Biagio seriously. “I have promised, and I will come. To think of it! For the diversion of humanity, Destiny had contrived a truly ideal marriage: Cocco Bertolli and Carolinona. I, fool, stupid, imbecile, go and interfere with her plans. I must pay for it. That great man loved her, his dove, and now I must show him the door. I feel remorseful, I assure you, but I have promised, and I will keep my word.”

The evening of the same day Dario Scossi related to the friend of the pension what he had done, where he had found Speranza, and in whose company. Cedebonis feigned to be scandalized at such immediate infidelity; but Scossi, who, in relating the affair, had allowed this information to escape him without intending it, replied that Carolinona should not take it amiss in him. Wives were made purposely to be deceived by their husbands, and vice versa, except in the case of the Martinelli couple, of course, who were unique beneath the heavens. Finally he announced that Biagio Speranza would return without fail the evening of the following day. “The sheep will return to the fold.”

VII

Biagio Speranza came somewhat late, saluted the lady of the house and his friends, and seated himself in his usual place. Some embarrassment was felt at first, but gradually conversation became more or less general. Only Martinelli kept his round, owl-like eyes fixed on Speranza as though expecting any moment some explanation of his unworthy manner of acting, some sign of repentance.

Carolinona sat with lowered eyes; but from time to time she would look about her, and if she saw that no one was looking, give a rapid side glance at Speranza, and become greatly moved. She suffered; she felt that she suffered, but still she controlled herself so that no one noticed it. She had given orders to the servant not to open the door without first looking through the peep-hole. If Cocco Bertolli came in the daytime she was to tell him that her mistress was not at home; if in the evening, while the boarders were at table, before opening the front door she was to come into the dining-room and give warning.

At every ring of the bell they all stopped to listen, and the poor woman felt her heart almost burst with agitation until they went on talking.