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Vittoria, Complete

G >> George Meredith >> Vittoria, Complete




'What can I do?' said Vittoria.

He replied, 'Shall I answer you by telling you what I have done?'

'You need not, signore!

'Enough that I want to keep a sword fresh for my country. I am at your
mercy, signorina; and I am without anxiety. I heard the chasseur saying
at the door of La Scala that he had the night-pass for the city gates and
orders for the Tyrol. Once in Tyrol I leap into Switzerland. I should
have remained in Milan, but nothing will be done there yet, and quiet
cities are not homes for me.'

Vittoria began to admit the existence of his likeness to her lover,
though it seemed to her a guilty weakness that she should see it.

'Will nothing be done in Milan?' was her first eager question.

'Nothing, signorina, or I should be there, and safe!'

'What, signore, do you require me to help you in?'

'Say that I am your servant.'

'And take you with me?'

'Such is my petition.'

'Is the case very urgent?'

'Hardly more, as regards myself, than a sword lost to Italy if I am
discovered. But, signorina, from what Countess Ammiani has told me, I
believe that you will some day be my relative likewise. Therefore I
appeal not only to a charitable lady, but to one of my own family.'

Vittoria reddened. 'All that I can do I will do.'

Angelo had to assure her that Carlo's release was certain the moment his
identity was established. She breathed gladly, saying, 'I wonder at it
all very much. I do not know where they are carrying me, but I think I am
in friendly hands. I owe you a duty. You will permit me to call you Beppo
till our journey ends.'

They were attracted to the windows by a noise of a horseman drawing rein
under it, whose imperious shout for the innkeeper betrayed the soldier's
habit of exacting prompt obedience from civilians, though there was no
military character in his attire. The innkeeper and his wife came out to
the summons, and then both made way for the chasseur in attendance on
Vittoria. With this man the cavalier conversed.

'Have you had food?' said Vittoria. 'I have some money that will serve
for both of us three days. Go, and eat and drink. Pay for us both.'

She gave him her purse. He received it with a grave servitorial bow, and
retired.

Soon after the chasseur brought up a message. Herr Johannes requested
that he might have the honour of presenting his homage to her: it was
imperative that he should see her. She nodded. Her first glance at Herr
Johannes assured her of his being one of the officers whom she had seen
on the stage last night, and she prepared to act her part. Herr Johannes
desired her to recall to mind his introduction to her by the Signor
Antonio-Pericles at the house of the maestro Rocco Ricci. 'It is true;
pardon me,' said Vittoria.

He informed her that she had surpassed herself at the opera; so much so
that he and many other Germans had been completely conquered by her.
Hearing, he said, that she was to be pursued, he took horse and galloped
all night on the road toward Schloss Sonnenberg, whither, as it had been
whispered to him, she was flying, in order to counsel her to lie 'perdu'
for a short space, and subsequently to conduct her to the schloss of the
amiable duchess. Vittoria thanked him, but stated humbly that she
preferred to travel alone. He declared that it was impossible: that she
was precious to the world of Art, and must on no account be allowed to
run into peril. Vittoria tried to assert her will; she found it unstrung.
She thought besides that this disguised officer, with the ill-looking
eyes running into one, might easily, since he had heard her, be a devotee
of her voice; and it flattered her yet more to imagine him as a capture
from the enemy--a vanquished subservient Austrian. She had seen him come
on horseback; he had evidently followed her; and he knew what she now
understood must be her destination.

Moreover, Laura had underlined 'it is an Austrian who rescues you.' This
man perchance was the Austrian. His precise manner of speech demanded an
extreme repugnance, if it was to be resisted; Vittoria's reliance upon
her own natural fortitude was much too secure for her to encourage the
physical revulsions which certain hard faces of men create in the hearts
of young women.

'Was all quiet in Milan?' she asked.

'Quiet as a pillow,' he said.

'And will continue to be?'

'Not a doubt of it.'

'Why is there not a doubt of it, signore?'

'You beat us Germans on one field. On the other you have no chance. But
you must lose no time. The Croats are on your track. I have ordered out
the carriage.'

The mention of the Croats struck her fugitive senses with a panic.

'I must wait for my maid,' she said, attempting to deliberate.

'Ha! you have a maid: of course you have! Where is your maid?'

'She ought to have returned by this time. If not, she is on the road.'

'On the road? Good; we will pick up the maid on the road. We have not a
minute to spare. Lady, I am your obsequious servant. Hasten out, I beg of
you. I was taught at my school that minutes are not to be wasted. Those
Croats have been drinking and what not on the way, or they would have
been here before this. You can't rely on Italian innkeepers to conceal
you.'

'Signore, are you a man of honour?'

'Illustrious lady, I am.'

She listened simply to the response without giving heed to the
prodigality of gesture. The necessity for flight now that Milan was
announced as lying quiet, had become her sole thought. Angelo was
standing by the carriage.

'What man is this?' said Herr Johannes, frowning.

'He is my servant,' said Vittoria.

'My dear good lady, you told me your servant was a maid. This will never
do. We can't have him.'

'Excuse me, signore, I never travel without him.'

'Travel! This is not a case of travelling, but running; and when you run,
if you are in earnest about it, you must fling away your baggage and
arms.'

Herr Johannes tossed out his moustache to right and left, and stamped his
foot. He insisted that the man should be left behind.

'Off, sir! back to Milan, or elsewhere,' he cried.

'Beppo, mount on the box,' said Vittoria.

Her command was instantly obeyed. Herr Johannes looked her in the face.
'You are very decided, my dear lady.' He seemed to have lost his own
decision, but handing Vittoria in, he drew a long cigar from his
breastpocket, lit it, and mounted beside the coachman. The chasseur had
disappeared.

Vittoria entreated that a general look-out should be kept for Giacinta.
The road was straight up an ascent, and she had no fear that her maid
would not be seen. Presently there was a view of the violet domes of a
city. 'Is it Bergamo?--is it Brescia?' she longed to ask, thinking of her
Bergamasc and Brescian friends, and of those two places famous for the
bravery of their sons: one being especially dear to her, as the
birthplace of a genius of melody, whose blood was in her veins. 'Did he
look on these mulberry trees?--did he look on these green-grassed
valleys?--did he hear these falling waters?' she asked herself, and
closed her spirit with reverential thoughts of him and with his music.
She saw sadly that they were turning from the city. A little ball of
paper was shot into her lap. She opened it and read: 'An officer of the
cavalry.--Beppo.' She put her hand out of the window to signify that she
was awake to the situation. Her anxiety, however, began to fret. No sight
of Giacinta was to be had in any direction. Her mistress commenced
chiding the absent garrulous creature, and did so until she pitied her,
when she accused herself of cowardice, for she was incapable of calling
out to the coachman to stop. The rapid motion subdued such energy as
remained to her, and she willingly allowed her hurried feelings to rest
on the faces of rocks impending over long ravines, and of perched old
castles and white villas and sub-Alpine herds. She burst from the
fascination as from a dream, but only to fall into it again, reproaching
her weakness, and saying, 'What a thing am I!' When she did make her
voice heard by Herr Johannes and the coachman, she was nervous and
ashamed, and met the equivocating pacification of the reply with an
assent half-way, though she was far from comprehending the consolation
she supposed that it was meant to convey. She put out her hand to
communicate with Beppo. Another ball of pencilled writing answered to it.
She read: 'Keep watch on this Austrian. Your maid is two hours in the
rear. Refuse to be separated from me. My life is at your
service.--Beppo.'

Vittoria made her final effort to get a resolve of some sort; ending it
with a compassionate exclamation over poor Giacinta. The girl could soon
find her way back to Milan. On the other hand, the farther from Milan,
the less the danger to Carlo's relative, in whom she now perceived a
stronger likeness to her lover. She sank back in the carriage and closed
her eyes. Though she smiled at the vanity of forcing sleep in this way,
sleep came. Her healthy frame seized its natural medicine to rebuild her
after the fever of recent days.

She slept till the rocks were purple, and rose-purple mists were in the
valleys. The stopping of the carriage aroused her. They were at the
threshold of a large wayside hostelry, fronting a slope of forest and a
plunging brook. Whitecoats in all attitudes leaned about the door; she
beheld the inner court full of them. Herr Johannes was ready to hand her
to the ground. He said: 'You have nothing to fear. These fellows are on
the march to Cremona. Perhaps it will be better if you are served up in
your chamber. You will be called early in the morning.'

She thanked him, and felt grateful. 'Beppo, look to yourself,' she said,
and ran to her retirement.

'I fancy that 's about all that you are fit for,' Herr Johannes remarked,
with his eyes on the impersonator of Beppo, who bore the scrutiny
carelessly, and after seeing that Vittoria had left nothing on the
carriage-seats, directed his steps to the kitchen, as became his
functions. Herr Johannes beckoned to a Tyrolese maid-servant, of whom
Beppo had asked his way. She gave her name as Katchen.

'Katchen, Katchen, my sweet chuck,' said Herr Johannes, 'here are ten
florins for you, in silver, if you will get me the handkerchief of that
man: you have just stretched your finger out for him.'

According to the common Austrian reckoning of them, Herr Johannes had
adopted the right method for ensuring the devotion of the maidens of
Tyrol. She responded with an amazed gulp of her mouth and a grimace of
acquiescence. Ten florins in silver shortened the migratory term of the
mountain girl by full three months. Herr Johannes asked her the hour when
the officers in command had supper, and deferred his own meal till that
time. Katchen set about earning her money. With any common Beppo it would
have been easy enough--simple barter for a harmless kiss. But this Beppo
appeared inaccessible; he was so courtly and so reserved; nor is a maiden
of Tyrol a particularly skilled seductress. The supper of the officers
was smoking on the table when Herr Johannes presented himself among them,
and very soon the inn was shaken with an uproar of greeting. Katchen
found Beppo listening at the door of the salle. She clapped her hands
upon him to drag him away.

'What right have you to be leaning your head there?' she said, and
threatened to make his proceedings known. Beppo had no jewel to give,
little money to spare. He had just heard Herr Johannes welcomed among the
officers by a name that half paralyzed him. 'You shall have anything you
ask of me if you will find me out in a couple of hours,' he said. Katchen
nodded truce for that period, and saw her home in the Oberinnthal still
nearer--twelve mountain goats and a cow her undisputed property. She
found him out, though he had strayed through the court of the inn, and
down a hanging garden to the borders of a torrent that drenched the air
and sounded awfully in the dark ravine below. He embraced her very
mildly. 'One scream and you go,' he said; she felt the saving hold of her
feet plucked from her, with all the sinking horror, and bit her under
lip, as if keeping in the scream with bare stitches. When he released her
she was perfectly mastered. 'You do play tricks,' she said, and quaked.

'I play no tricks. Tell me at what hour these soldiers march.'

'At two in the morning.'

'Don't be afraid, silly child: you're safe if you obey me. At what time
has our carriage been ordered?'

'At four.'

'Now swear to do this:--rouse my mistress at a quarter past two: bring
her down to me.'

'Yes, yes,' said Kitchen, eagerly: 'give me your handkerchief, and she
will follow me. I do swear; that I do; by big St. Christopher! who's
painted on the walls of our house at home.'

Beppo handed her sweet silver, which played a lively tune for her
temporarily--vanished cow and goats. Peering at her features in the
starlight, he let her take the handkerchief from his pocket.

'Oh! what have you got in there?' she said.

He laid his finger across her mouth, bidding her return to the house.

'Dear heaven!' Katchen went in murmuring; 'would I have gone out to that
soft-looking young man if I had known he was a devil.'

Angelo Guidascarpi was aware that an officer without responsibility never
sleeps faster than when his brothers-in-arms have to be obedient to the
reveillee. At two in the morning the bugle rang out: many lighted cigars
were flashing among the dark passages of the inn; the whitecoats were
disposed in marching order; hot coffee was hastily swallowed; the last
stragglers from the stables, the outhouses, the court, and the straw beds
under roofs of rock, had gathered to the main body. The march set
forward. A pair of officers sent a shout up to the drowsy windows, 'Good
luck to you, Weisspriess!' Angelo descended from the concealment of the
opposite trees, where he had stationed himself to watch the departure.
The inn was like a sleeper who has turned over. He made Katchen bring him
bread and slices of meat and a flask of wine, which things found a place
in his pockets: and paying for his mistress and himself, he awaited
Vittoria's foot on the stairs. When Vittoria came she asked no questions,
but said to Katchen, 'You may kiss me'; and Kitchen began crying; she
believed that they were lovers daring everything for love.

'You have a clear start of an hour and a half. Leave the high-road then,
and turn left through the forest and ask for Bormio. If you reach Tyrol,
and come to Silz, tell people that you know Katchen Giesslinger, and they
will be kind to you.'

So saying, she let them out into the black-eyed starlight.




CHAPTER XXIV

ADVENTURES OF VITTORIA AND ANGELO

Nothing was distinguishable for the flying couple save the high-road
winding under rock and forest, and here and there a coursing water in the
depths of the ravines, that showed like a vein in black marble. They
walked swiftly, keeping brisk ears for sound of hoof or foot behind them.
Angelo promised her that she should rest after the morning light had
come; but she assured him that she could bear fatigue, and her firm
cheerfulness lent his heart vigour. At times they were hooded with the
darkness, which came on them as if, as benighted children fancy, their
faces were about to meet the shaggy breast of the forest. Rising up to
lighter air, they had sight of distant twinklings: it might be city, or
autumn weed, or fires of the woodmen, or beacon fires: they glimmered
like eyelets to the mystery of the vast unseen land. Innumerable brooks
went talking to the night: torrents in seasons of rain, childish voices
now, with endless involutions of a song of three notes and a sort of
unnoted clanging chorus, as if a little one sang and would sing on
through the thumping of a tambourine and bells. Vittoria had these
fancies: Angelo had none. He walked like a hunted man whose life is at
stake.

'If we reach a village soon we may get some conveyance,' he said.

'I would rather walk than drive,' said Vittoria; 'it keeps me from
thinking!

'There is the dawn, signorina!

Vittoria frightened him by taking a seat upon a bench of rock; while it
was still dark about them, she drew off Camilla's silken shoes and
stockings, and stood on bare feet.

'You fancied I was tired,' she said. 'No, I am thrifty; and I want to
save as much of my finery as I can. I can go very well on naked feet.
These shoes are no protection; they would be worn out in half-a-day, and
spoilt for decent wearing in another hour.'

The sight of fair feet upon hard earth troubled Angelo; he excused
himself for calling her out to endure hardship; but she said, 'I trust
you entirely.' She looked up at the first thin wave of colour while
walking.

'You do not know me,' said he.

'You are the Countess Ammiani's nephew.'

'I have, as I had the honour to tell you yesterday, the blood of your
lover in my veins.'

'Do not speak of him now, I pray,' said Vittoria; 'I want my strength!

'Signorina, the man we have left behind us is his enemy;--mine. I would
rather see you dead than alive in his hands. Do you fear death?'

'Sometimes; when I am half awake,' she confessed. 'I dislike thinking of
it.'

He asked her curiously: 'Have you never seen it?'

'Death?' said she, and changed a shudder to a smile; 'I died last night.'

Angelo smiled with her. 'I saw you die!

'It seems a hundred years ago.'

'Or half-a-dozen minutes. The heart counts everything'

'Was I very much liked by the people, Signor Angelo?'

'They love you.'

'I have done them no good.'

'Every possible good. And now, mine is the duty to protect you.'

'And yesterday we were strangers! Signor Angelo, you spoke of sbirri.
There is no rising in Bologna. Why are they after you? You look too
gentle to give them cause.'

'Do I look gentle? But what I carry is no burden. Who that saw you last
night would know you for Camilla? You will hear of my deeds, and judge.
We shall soon have men upon the road; you must be hidden. See, there:
there are our colours in the sky. Austria cannot wipe them out. Since I
was a boy I have always slept in a bed facing East, to keep that truth
before my eyes. Black and yellow drop to the earth: green, white, and red
mount to heaven. If more of my countrymen saw these meanings!--but they
are learning to. My tutor called them Germanisms. If so, I have stolen a
jewel from my enemy.'

Vittoria mentioned the Chief.

'Yes,' said Angelo; 'he has taught us to read God's handwriting. I revere
him. It's odd; I always fancy I hear his voice from a dungeon, and seeing
him looking at one light. He has a fault: he does not comprehend the
feelings of a nobleman. Do you think he has made a convert of our Carlo
in that? Never! High blood is ineradicable.'

'I am not of high blood,' said Vittoria.

'Countess Ammiani overlooks it. And besides, low blood may be elevated
without the intervention of a miracle. You have a noble heart, signorina.
It may be the will of God that you should perpetuate our race. All of us
save Carlo Ammiani seem to be falling.'

Vittoria bent her head, distressed by a broad beam of sunlight. The
country undulating to the plain lay under them, the great Alps above, and
much covert on all sides. They entered a forest pathway, following chance
for safety. The dark leafage and low green roofing tasted sweeter to
their senses than clear air and sky. Dark woods are home to fugitives,
and here there was soft footing, a surrounding gentleness,--grass, and
moss with dead leaves peacefully flat on it. The birds were not timorous,
and when a lizard or a snake slipped away from her feet, it was amusing
to Vittoria and did not hurt her tenderness to see that they were feared.
Threading on beneath the trees, they wound by a valley's incline, where
tumbled stones blocked the course of a green water, and filled the lonely
place with one onward voice. When the sun stood over the valley they sat
beneath a chestnut tree in a semicircle of orange rock to eat the food
which Angelo had procured at the inn. He poured out wine for her in the
hollow of a stone, deep as an egg-shell, whereat she sipped, smiling at
simple contrivances; but no smile crossed the face of Angelo. He ate and
drank to sustain his strength, as a weapon is sharpened; and having done,
he gathered up what was left, and lay at her feet with his eyes fixed
upon an old grey stone. She, too, sat brooding. The endless babble and
noise of the water had hardened the sense of its being a life in that
solitude. The floating of a hawk overhead scarce had the character of an
animated thing. Angelo turned round to look at her, and looking upward as
he lay, his sight was smitten by spots of blood upon one of her torn
white feet, that was but half-nestled in the folds of her dress. Bending
his head down, like a bird beaking at prey, he kissed the foot
passionately. Vittoria's eyelids ran up; a chord seemed to snap within
her ears: she stole the shamed foot into concealment, and throbbed, but
not fearfully, for Angelo's forehead was on the earth. Clumps of grass,
and sharp flint-dust stuck between his fists, which were thrust out stiff
on either side of him. She heard him groan heavily. When he raised his
face, it was white as madness. Her womanly nature did not shrink from
caressing it with a touch of soothing hands.

She chanced to say, 'I am your sister.'

'No, by God! you are not my sister,' cried the young man. 'She died
without a stain of blood; a lily from head to foot, and went into the
vault so. Our mother will see that. She will kiss the girl in heaven and
see that.' He rose, crying louder: 'Are there echoes here?' But his voice
beat against the rocks undoubted.

She saw that a frenzy had seized him. He looked with eyes drained of
human objects; standing square, with stiff half-dropped arms, and an
intense melody of wretchedness in his voice.

'Rinaldo, Rinaldo!' he shouted: 'Clelia!--no answer from man or ghost.
She is dead. We two said to her die! and she died. Therefore she is
silent, for the dead have not a word. Oh! Milan, Milan! accursed
betraying city! I should have found my work in you if you had kept faith.
Now here am I, talking to the strangled throat of this place, and can get
no answer. Where am I? The world is hollow: the miserable shell! They
lied. Battle and slaughter they promised me, and enemies like ripe maize
for the reaping-hook. I would have had them in thick to my hands. I would
have washed my hands at night, and eaten and drunk and slept, and sung
again to work in the morning. They promised me a sword and a sea to
plunge it in, and our mother Italy to bless me. I would have toiled: I
would have done good in my life. I would have bathed my soul in our
colours. I would have had our flag about my body for a winding-sheet, and
the fighting angels of God to unroll me. Now here am I, and my own pale
mother trying at every turn to get in front of me. Have her away! It's a
ghost, I know. She will be touching the strength out of me. She is not
the mother I love and I serve. Go: cherish your daughter, you dead
woman!'

Angelo reeled. 'A spot of blood has sent me mad,' he said, and caught for
a darkness to cross his sight, and fell and lay flat.

Vittoria looked around her; her courage was needed in that long silence.

She adopted his language: 'Our mother Italy is waiting for us. We must
travel on, and not be weary. Angelo, my friend, lend me your help over
these stones.'

He rose quietly. She laid her elbow on his hand; thus supported she left
a place that seemed to shudder. All the heavy day they walked almost
silently; she not daring to probe his anguish with a question; and he
calm and vacant as the hour following thunder. But, of her safety by his
side she had no longer a doubt. She let him gather weeds and grasses, and
bind them across her feet, and perform friendly services, sure that
nothing earthly could cause such a mental tempest to recur. The
considerate observation which at all seasons belongs to true courage told
her that it was not madness afflicting Angelo.

Near nightfall they came upon a forester's hut, where they were welcomed
by an old man and a little girl, who gave them milk and black bread, and
straw to rest on. Angelo slept in the outer air. When Vittoria awoke she
had the fancy that she had taken one long dive downward in a well; and on
touching the bottom found her head above the surface. While her surprise
was wearing off, she beheld the woodman's little girl at her feet holding
up one end of her cloak, and peeping underneath, overcome by amazement at
the flashing richness of the dress of the heroine Camilla. Entering into
the state of her mind spontaneously, Vittoria sought to induce the child
to kiss her; but quite vainly. The child's reverence for the dress
allowed her only to be within reach of the hem of it, so as to delight
her curiosity. Vittoria smiled when, as she sat up, the child fell back
against the wall; and as she rose to her feet, the child scampered from
the room. 'My poor Camilla! you can charm somebody, yet,' she said,
limping; her visage like a broken water with the pain of her feet. 'If
the bell rings for Camilla now, what sort of an entry will she make?'
Vittoria treated her physical weakness and ailments with this spirit of
humour. 'They may say that Michiella has bewitched you, my Camilla. I
think your voice would sound as if it were dragging its feet after it
just as a stork flies. O my Camilla! don't I wish I could do the same,
and be ungraceful and at ease! A moan is married to every note of your
treble, my Camilla, like December and May. Keep me from shrieking!'