CHAPTER VI.
THE CHURCH AND THE LAW.
Ten days after the departure of the marchesa, Fra Pacifico received the following letter:
REVEREND AND ESTEEMED FATHER: I have put the matter of Enrica's marriage into the hands of the well-known advocate, Maestro Guglielmi, of Lucca. He at once left for Rome. By extraordinary diligence he procured a summons for Count Nobili to appear within fifteen days before the tribunal, to answer in person for his breach of marriage-contract—unless, before the expiration of that time, he should make the contract good by marriage. The citation was left with the secretary at Count Nobili's own house. Maestro Guglielmi also informed the secretary, by my order, that, in default of his—Count Nobili's—appearance, a detailed account of the whole transaction with my niece, and of other transactions touching Count Nobili's father, known to me—of which I have informed Maestro Guglielmi—would be published—upon my authority—in every newspaper in all the cities throughout Italy, with such explanations and particulars as I might see fit to insert. Also that the name of Count Nobili, as a slanderer and a perjurer, should be placarded on all the spare walls of Lucca, at Florence, and throughout Tuscany. The secretary denies any knowledge of his master's present address. He declared that he was unable, therefore, to communicate with him.
In the mean time a knowledge of the facts has spread through this city. The public voice is with us to a man. Once more the citizens have rallied round the great Guinigi name. Crowds assemble daily before Count Nobili's palace. His name is loudly execrated by the citizens. Stones have been thrown, and windows broken; indeed, there are threats of burning the palace. The authorities have not interfered. Count Nobili has now, I hear, returned privately to Lucca. He dares not show himself, or he would be stabbed; but Count Nobili's lawyer has had a conference with Maestro Guglielmi. Cavaliere Trenta insisted upon being present. This was against my will. Cavaliere Trenta always says too much. Maestro Guglielmi gave Count Nobili's lawyer three days to decide. At the expiration of that time Signore Guglielmi met him again. Count Nobili's lawyer declared that with the utmost difficulty he had prevailed upon his client to make good the contract by the religious ceremony of marriage. Let every thing therefore be ready for the ceremony. This letter is private. You will say nothing further to my niece than that Count Nobili will arrive at Corellia at two o'clock the day after to-morrow to marry her. Farewell.
Your friend and well-wisher,
"MARCHESA GUINIGI."
The morning of the third day rose gray and chill at Corellia. Much rain had fallen during the night, and a damp mist streamed up from the valleys, shutting out the mighty range of mountains. In the plains of Pisa and Florence the October sun still blazed glorious as ever on the lush grass and flowery meadows—on the sluggish streams and the rich blossoms. There, the trees still rustled in green luxuriance, to soft breezes perfumed with orange-trees and roses. But in the mountain-fastnesses of the Apennines autumn had come on apace. Such faded leaves as clung to the shrubs about the villa were drooping under the weight of the rain-drops, and a few autumnal flowers that still lit up the broad borders lay prostrate on the earth. Each tiny stream and brawling water-course—even mere little humble rills that dried up in summer—now rushed downward over rocks and stones blackened with moss, to pour themselves into the river Serchio. In the forest the turf was carpeted with yellow leaves, carried hither and thither by the winds. The stems and branches of the chestnuts ranged themselves, tier above tier, like silver pillars, against the red sandstone of the rocks. The year was dying out, and with the year all Nature was dying out likewise.
Within the villa a table was spread in the great sala, with wine and such simple refreshments as the brief notice allowed. As the morning advanced, clouds gathered more thickly over the heavens. The gloomy daylight coming in at the doors, and through the many windows, caught up no ray within. The vaguely-sailing ships painted upon the wall, destined never to find a port in those unknown seas for which their sails were set—and that exasperating company opposite, that through all changes of weal or woe danced remorselessly under the greenwood—were shrouded in misty shadows.
Not a sound broke the silence—nothing save the striking of the clock at Corellia, bringing with it visions of the dark old church—the kneeling women—and the peace of God within. Even Argo and his friends—Juno and Tuzzi, and the bull-dog—were mute.
About twelve o'clock the marchesa arrived from Lucca. In her company came the Cavaliere Trenta and Maestro Guglielmi. Fra Pacifico was in waiting. He received them with grave courtesy. Adamo, arrayed by Pipa in his Sunday clothes, with a flower behind his ear, and Silvestro, stood uncovered at the entrance. Once, and once only, Silvestro abstained from addressing his mistress with his usual question about her health.
Maestro Guglielmi was formally presented to Fra Pacifico by the punctilious cavaliere, now restored to his usual health and spirits. The cavaliere had arrayed himself in his official uniform—dark-purple velvet embroidered with gold. Not having worn the uniform, however, for more than twenty years, the coat was much too small for him. In his hand he carried a white staff of office. This served him as a stick. Coming up from Lucca, the cavaliere had reflected that on him solely must rest the care of imparting some show of dignity to the ceremony about to take place. He resolved that he would be equal to the occasion, whatever might occur.
There was a strange hush upon each one of the little group met in the sala. Each was busy with his own thoughts. The marriage about to take place was to the marchesa the resurrection of the Guinigi name. To Fra Pacifico it was the possible rescue of Enrica from a life of suffering, perhaps an early death. To Guglielmi it was the triumph of the keen lawyer, who had tracked and pursued his prey until that prey had yielded. To the cavaliere it was simply an act of justice which Count Nobili owed to Enrica, after the explanations he (Trenta) had given to him through his lawyer, respecting Count Marescotti—such an act of justice as the paternal government of his master the Duke of Lucca would have forced, upon the strength of his absolute prerogative, irrespective of law. The only person not outwardly affected was the marchesa. The marchesa had said nothing since her arrival, but there was a haughty alacrity of step and movement, as she walked down the sala toward the door of her own apartment, that spoke more than words.
No sooner had the sound of her closing door died away in the echoes of the sala than Trenta, with forward bows both to Fra Pacifico and the lawyer, requested permission to leave them, in order to visit Enrica. Guglielmi and Fra Pacifico were now alone. Guglielmi gave a cautious glance round, then walked up to the table, and poured out a tumbler of wine, which he swallowed slowly. As he did so, he was engaged in closely scrutinizing Fra Pacifico, who, full of anxiety as to what was about to happen, stood lost in thought.
Maestro Guglielmi, whose age might be about forty, was a man, once seen, not easily forgotten—a tall, slight man of quick subtile movements, that betrayed the devouring activity within. Maestro Guglielmi had a perfectly colorless face, a prominent, eager nose, thin lips, that perpetually unclosed to a ghostly smile in which the other features took no part; a brow already knitted with those fine wrinkles indicative of constant study, and overhanging eyebrows that framed a pair of eyes that read you like a book. It would have been a bold man who, with those eyes fixed on him, would have told a lie to Maestro Guglielmi, advocate in the High Court of Lucca. If any man had so lied, those eyes would have gathered up the light, and flashed it forth again in lightnings that might consume him. That they were dark and flaming, and greatly dreaded by all on whom Guglielmi fixed them in opposition, was generally admitted by his legal compeers.
"Reverend sir," began Maestro Guglielmi, blandly, stepping up to where the priest stood a little apart, and speaking in a metallic voice audible in any court of law, be it ever so closely packed—"it gratifies me much that chance has so ordered it that we two are left alone." Guglielmi took out his watch. "We have a good half-hour to spare."
Fra Pacifico turned, and for the first time contemplated the lawyer attentively. As he did so, he noted with surprise the power of his eyes.
"I earnestly desire some conversation with you," continued Guglielmi, the semblance of a smile flitting over his hard face. "Can we speak here securely?" And the lawyer glanced round at the various doors, and particularly to an open one, which led from the sala to the chapel, at the farther end of the house. Fra Pacifico moved forward and closed it.
"You are quite safe—say what you please," he answered, bluntly. His frank nature rose involuntarily against the cunning of Guglielmi's look and manner. "We have no spies here."
"Pardon me, I did not mean to insinuate that. But what I have to say is strictly private."
Fra Pacifico eyed Guglielmi with no friendly expression.
"I know you well by repute, reverend sir"—with one comprehensive glance Guglielmi seemed to take in Fra Pacifico mentally and physically—"therefore it is that I address myself to you."
The priest crossed his arms and bowed.
"The marchesa has confided to me the charge of this most delicate case. Hitherto I have conducted it with success. It is not my habit to fail. I have succeeded in convincing Count Nobili's lawyer, and through him Count Nobili himself, that it would be suicidal to his interests should he not make good the marriage-contract with the Marchesa Guinigi's niece. If Count Nobili refuses, he must leave the country. He has established himself in Lucca, and desires, as I understand, to remain there. My noble client has done me the honor to inform me that she is acquainted with, and can prove, some act of villainy committed by his father, who, though he ended his life as an eminent banker at Florence, began it as a money-lender at Leghorn. Count Nobili's father filled in a blank check which a client had incautiously left in his hands, to an enormous amount, or something of that kind, I believe. I refused to notice this circumstance legally, feeling sure that we were strong enough without it. I was also sure that giving publicity to such a fact would only prejudice the position of the future husband of the marchesa's niece. To return. Fortunately, Count Nobili's lawyer saw the case as I put it to him. Count-Nobili will, undoubtedly, be here at two o'clock." Again the lawyer took out his watch, looked at it, and replaced it with rapidity. "A good deal of hard work is comprised in that sentence, 'Count Nobili will be here!'" Again there was the ghost of a smile. "Lawyers must not always be judged by the result. In this case, however, the result is favorable, eminently favorable."
Fra Pacifico's face deepened into a look of disgust, but he said nothing.
"Count Nobili once here and joined to the young lady by the Church, we must keep him. The spouses must pass twenty-four hours under the same roof to complete and legalize the marriage. I am here officially, to see that Count Nobili attends at the time appointed for the ceremony. In reality, I am here to see that Count Nobili remains. This must be no formal union. They must be bound together irrevocably. You must help me, reverend sir."
Maestro Guglielmi turned quickly upon Fra Pacifico. His eyes ran all over him. The priest drew back.
"I have already stretched my conscience to the utmost for the sake of the lady. I can do nothing more."
"But, my father, it is surely to the lady's advantage that, if the count marries her, they should live together, that heirs should be born to them," pleaded Guglielmi in a most persuasive voice. "If the count separates from his wife after the ceremony, how can this be? We do not live in the days of miracles, though we have an infallible pope. Eh, my father? Not in the days of miracles." Guglielmi gave an ironical laugh, and his eyes twinkled. "Besides, there is the civil ceremony."
"The Sindaco of Corellia can be present, if you please, for the civil marriage."
"Unfortunately, there is no time to call the sindaco now," replied
Guglielmi. "If Count Nobili remains the night in company with his
bride, we shall have no difficulty about the civil marriage to-morrow.
Count Nobili will not object then. Not likely."
The lawyer gave a harsh, cynical laugh that grated offensively upon the priest's ear. Fra Pacifico began to think Maestro Guglielmi intolerable.
"That is your affair. I will undertake no further responsibility," responded Fra Pacifico, doggedly.
"You cannot mean, my father, that you will not help me?" And Guglielmi contemplated Fra Pacifico fixedly with all the lightnings he could bring to bear upon him. To his amazement, he produced no effect whatever. Fra Pacifico remained silent. Altogether this was a priest different from any he had ever met with—Guglielmi hated priests—he began to be interested in Fra Pacifico.
"Well, well," was Guglielmi's reply, with an aspect of intense chagrin, "I had better hopes. Your position, Fra Pacifico, as a peace-maker—as a friend of the family—however"—here the lawyer shrugged his shoulders, and his eyes wandered restlessly up and down the room—"however, at least permit me to tell you what I intend to do."
Fra Pacifico bowed coldly.
"As you please," was his reply.
Maestro Guglielmi advanced close to Fra Pacifico, and lowered his voice almost to a whisper.
"The circumstances attending this marriage are becoming very public. My client, the Marchesa Guinigi, considers her position so exalted she dares to court publicity. She forgets we are not in the middle ages. Ha! ha!" and Guglielmi showed his teeth in a smile that was nothing but a grin—"publicity will be fatal to the young lady. This the marchesa fails to see; but I see it, and you see it, my father."
Fra Pacifico shook himself all over as though silently rejecting any possible participation in Maestro Guglielmi's arguments. Guglielmi quite understood the gesture, but continued, perfectly at his ease:
"The high rank of the young lady—the wealth of the count—a marriage-contract broken—an illustrious name libeled—Count Nobili, a well-known member of the Jockey Club, in concealment—the Lucchese populace roused to fury—all these details have reached the capital. A certain royal personage"—here Guglielmi drew himself up pompously, and waved his hand, as was his wont in the fervor of a grand peroration—"a certain royal personage, who has reasons of his own for avoiding unnecessary scandal (possibly because the royal personage causes so much himself, and considers scandal his own prerogative) "—Guglielmi emphasized his joke with such scintillation as would metaphorically have taken any other man than Fra Pacifico off his legs—even Fra Pacifico stared at him with astonishment—"a certain royal personage, I say—earnestly desires that this affair should be amicably arranged—that the republican party should not have the gratification of gloating over a sensational trial between two noble families (the republicans would make terrible capital out of it)—a certain personage desires, I say, that the affair should be arranged—amicably arranged—not only by a formal marriage—the formal marriage, of course, we positively insist on—but by a complete reconciliation between the parties. If this should not be so, the present ceremony will infallibly lead to a lawsuit respecting the civil marriage—the domicile—and the cohabitation—which it is distinctly understood that Count Nobili will refuse, and that the Marchesa Guinigi, acting for her niece, will maintain. It is essential, therefore, that more than the formal ceremony shall take place. It is essential that the subsequent cohabitation—"
"I see your drift," interrupted downright Fra Pacifico, in his blunt way; "no need to go into further details."
Spite of himself, Fra Pacifico had become interested in the narrative. The cunning lawyer intended that Fra Pacifico should become so interested. What was the strong-fisted, simple-hearted priest beside such a sophist as Maestro Guglielmi!
"The royal personage in question," continued Guglielmi, who read in Fra Pacifico's frank countenance that he had conquered his repugnance, "has done me the high honor of communicating to me his august sentiments. I have pledged myself to do all I can to prevent the catastrophe of law. My official capacity, however, ends with Count Nobili's presence here at the appointed hour."
At the word "hour" Guglielmi hastily pulled out his watch.
"Only a few minutes more," he muttered. "But this is not all. Listen, my father."
He gave a hasty glance round, then put his lips close to the priest's ear.
"If I succeed—may I say we?" he added, insinuatingly—"if we succeed, a canonry will be offered to you, Fra Pacifico; and I" (Guglielmi's speaking eyes became brilliantly emphatic now)—"I shall be appointed judge of the tribunal at Lucca."
"Pshaw!" cried Fra Pacifico, retreating from him with an expression of blank disappointment. "I a canon at Lucca! If that is to be the consequence of success, you must depend on yourself, Signore Guglielmi. I decline to help you. I would not be a canon at Lucca if the King of Italy asked me in person."
Guglielmi, whose tactics were, if he failed, never to show it, smiled his falsest smile.
"Noble disinterestedness!" he exclaimed, drawing his delicate hand across his brow. "Nothing could have raised your reverence higher in my esteem than this refusal!"
To conceal his real annoyance, Maestro Guglielmi turned away and coughed. It was a diplomatic cough, ready on all emergencies. Again he consulted his watch.
"Five minutes more, then we must assemble at the altar. A fine will be levied upon Count Nobili, if he is not punctual."
"If it is so near the time, I must beg you to excuse me," said Fra
Pacifico, glad to escape.
Fra Pacifico, walked rapidly toward the door opening into the corridor leading to the chapel. His retreating figure was followed by a succession of fireworks from Guglielmi's eyes, indicative of indignation and contempt.
"He who sleeps catches no fish," the lawyer muttered to himself, biting his lips. "But the priest will help me—spite of himself, he will help me. A health to Holy Mother Church! She would not do much if all her ministers were like this country clod. He is without ambition. He has quite fatigued me."
Saying this, Maestro Guglielmi poured out another glass of wine. He critically examined the wine in the light before putting it to his lips; then he swallowed it with an expression of approbation.