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.
After an unusually loud ring, Cedebonis remarked: “You will see that that is not he. He certainly will first try to get in by day, and not succeeding in this will return in the evening.” And this would undoubtedly have been the more logical method; but one thing Cedebonis did not take into account; Cocco Bertolli was mad. And so it happened that it was just he who rang the bell. The servant rushed into the room in alarm to announce him.
All rose in consternation, save Biagio Speranza. “I beg you,” said he calmly, “to remain seated. I alone must go. You go on chatting here quietly. You will see; two peaceful words, and I shall make him reasonable.”
He rose and moved toward the door; but before leaving the dining-room he turned and added, raising one hand: “I beg you, then.” But the Pentoni, who until then had controlled herself with difficulty, burst into tears. Some surrounded her, trying to comfort her; others went on tiptoe to listen outside the drawing-room door.
Biagio Speranza himself went to open the door, resolutely; but at sight of Cocco Bertolli he stood as though turned to stone. The unfortunate fellow seemed to have scarcely an ounce of flesh on his bones, and his enormous ox-like eyes in his wasted, cadaverous face were positively terrifying. He paused at sight of Biagio Speranza, and twisted his mouth into a ferocious sneer. “Ah, you!” he murmured.
“Pardon me, what do you want?” asked Biagio.
“Now!” Cocco Bertolli clenched his fist, his eyes almost bursting from their sockets, “I merely wish to say two words to the lady in yonder, and to cut off her ears and nose.”
“Good Heavens! You would spoil her for me!” cried Biagio, laughing. “Come, come, my dear poet; you must know that I am now master of this house, and you shall enter it neither now nor at any other time.”
Cocco Bertolli, all of a tremor, drew down his loosely hanging vest, and said: “Very good. We will see about that. I merely wished to remind that good lady of a certain promise.”
“But pardon me, do you not understand,” Speranza tried to persuade him, “that the lady of whom you speak hoped, or rather was sure, that you—pardon me—that you were dying?”
“But I am not dead!” cried Cocco Bertolli, with fierce joy. “And I would have you understand that for her I have defied death!”
“Too bad!” exclaimed Biagio. “Too bad! Come now, if you will permit me to say so, do you really think that was worth while?”
“Ah, do you too know,” sneered Cocco Bertolli, “that your wife is a shameless woman?”
Biagio Speranza spread out his hands. “A stout woman, pardon, let us rather say a stout woman, so as not to offend her.”
“But I wish to offend her!” replied Cocco Bertolli, raising his arms, terrible in his wrath. “I wish to offend her before you, her worthy husband. Buffoon!”
Biagio Speranza paled, closed his eyes, then said mildly: “Listen, Cocco. Go away peaceably, or I will kick you out.”
“Me?”
“You. Or rather, see; I shut the door in your face to keep myself from kicking a poor madman, for you are nothing more than that.” And he closed the door.
“Vile clown!” roared Cocco Bertolli outside the door. “But I shall wait in the street for you, do you hear? I will make you pay for this!”
Biagio Speranza returned to the dining-room, still pale and trembling with the effort he had made to control himself. “Well?” asked all anxiously.
“Nothing,” he replied, with a nervous smile. “I have sent him away.”
“And he is waiting outside for you!” added Carolinona, who had heard in the hall the madman’s threat.
“Oh, Heavens!” moaned Carolinona, her face hidden in her handkerchief. “For my sake!” This weeping irritated Biagio Speranza; he felt an aversion for the part he was about to play, and shrugged his shoulders angrily. “Let him wait. I will go and give him what he deserves now!” And he looked for his hat and stick.
Then the Pentoni, as though impelled by a force stronger than her nature, started to her feet. “I implore you! For pity’s sake! Do not have anything to do with that madman. Let the others go first! Listen to me!”
All save Martinelli, who was shaking like a leaf, and the scornful Trunfo, echoed Carolinona’s words, and offered to go. But Biagio Speranza made way for himself violently, and crying, “Pray, what do you take me for?” he went out. The others followed him. At the foot of the stairs he turned, and again begged them to be good enough to remain behind.
“You make me lose my patience by acting thus,” he called to them. “Do you seriously believe that I will lift my hand against that poor unfortunate who has just left the hospital, unless he actually drives me to the wall? So stay where you are, I beg of you! Do not let him see you, for if he does he will begin haranguing. Do not aggravate the ridiculousness of my position.”
Dario Scossi then made a sign to the others to stop, and let Speranza go on alone. Shortly after they continued downstairs and paused in the hall to spy. Cariolin, who was slightly in advance, put his head a little way out of the front door. Biagio and Cocco Bertolli were talking vigorously, a slight distance apart; but suddenly Cariolin saw Cocco Bertolli raise one hand and solemnly administer a blow upon Speranza. At that they all rushed forward. Carolinona, who was standing at a window, gave a scream and fell back fainting in the trembling arms of Martinelli, while Trunfo, attracted by the cries from the street, rushed to the entrance, repeating scornfully: “This is too much! A fight! Clowns!”
Biagio Speranza, tearful with rage, and struggling to free himself, cried out to the friends who were holding him: “Let me go! Let me go!”
“At your disposal!” roared Cocco Bertolli as they dragged him away, amid the crowd which was flocking from every direction. “At your disposal! The Caffè della Svizzero!”
Dario Scossi, Cedebonis, and Cariolin finally succeeded in leading Biagio Speranza away, while he cried furiously: “I must kill him! I must kill him! Two of you, you, Scossi, and you, Cariolin, go at once to find him. Ridiculous as it is, atrociously ridiculous, a duel with that wretch, because of that woman in yonder, I must fight, for otherwise when I see him I should kill him like a dog. Go, go, I will await you at my home.”
The three friends sought to dissuade him, to persuade him not to attach any importance to what had occurred. After all it was but the onset of a madman. But Biagio Speranza would not listen to reason. “He has struck me, do you understand?” And he sprang into a cab to go home, while Scossi and Cariolin, followed by Cedebonis, serious, placid, and curious, repaired to the Caffè della Svizzero.
They found Cocco Bertolli there, swelling with pride, while he narrated the adventure amid the laughter of the crowd that had followed him.
“At once! At your service!” he called, coming toward them. “Pistols, swords, daggers; what you please, at your choice! Or even with hands and feet; but at once!”
Scossi made him understand that two more men were needed, with whom they could discuss the details of the meeting.
“I know no one,” protested Cocco Bertolli. “I would like to send Signor Speranza my two friends, Nero and Erostratus, but unfortunately they are both dead. So, pray, find me two living wretches; I do not wish to trouble myself with such paltry details.”
“I would assist in my quality of physician,” said Cedebonis. “But what can I do? I have lessons at the liceo.”
So Dario Scossi and Cariolin, together with Cocco Bertolli, set out in search of two seconds other than Erostratus and Nero.
Biagio Speranza, trembling with impatience, waited in his home for almost an hour. Then the doorbell rang, but instead of Scossi and Cariolin appeared Nannetta, who, having heard at the café about the quarrel, had come for news.
“Why, yes, I have been struck!” said Biagio. “Come in, Nannetta. We were so comfortable in the country, we two, were we not? I have acted foolishly, but what will you? I must pay for it, as I told you—”
“A duel?” Nannetta asked him, terrified.
“Of course. Struck, I tell you.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
Nannetta kissed his cheek. “Dear, and if they kill you? Have you thought of that?”
“No, really I have not!” said Biagio, shrugging his shoulders, and he continued staring impatiently out of the window.
Nannetta followed him, but instead of staring down into the street she began gazing up at the stars, which glowed thickly in the moonless sky. She sighed, and said: “Do you know, Biagio, that I really wish you would not fight this duel?”
Struck by the strange tone of her voice, Biagio asked her with a forced smile: “Are you so fond of me?”
Nannetta shrugged her shoulders, smiling mournfully; she closed her eyes, and replied: “How do I know?—I do not want—”
“Come!” cried Biagio, with a start, “no melancholy! I have here some marsala; let us drink it! I must have some biscuits too—then you shall help me pack my valises. To-morrow, after giving that dog a good lesson, I shall be off!”
“For always?”
“For always!” He took the bottle of marsala, the biscuits, and invited Nannetta to sit down and drink. There was another ring at the door. It was Signor Martino Martinelli, reduced to the very shadow of himself, as though a breath could blow him away like a feather. “Come in, come in, my very dear Signor Martino!” cried Biagio, slapping him on the back. “Who sent you, eh? I bet you I can guess. My wife!” Nannetta burst out laughing at seeing the man with his huge nose standing there, petrified at sight of her.
“Do not laugh, Nannetta,” said Biagio. “Allow me to present to you the prototype of faithful husbands, Signor Martino Martinelli, famed for the biggest nose in the world. Signor Martinelli, tell my esteemed wife that you found me safe and sound, with a good bottle of wine in front of me, and a charming little lady at my side. Do not sneeze! Will you have something to drink?”
“Par—pardon me,” stammered Signor Martinelli thickly and indignantly; “permit me to tell—to tell you that you—yes, sir—that—you—misjudge, yes, I say, unworthily—yes, sir—a heart—a heart of gold, which at this moment beats—yes, I say—beats for you. Good evening.”
The laughter of Biagio and Nannetta followed him to the door. Signor Martinelli felt relieved after this outburst, and, elevated to a sphere of heroism, went away with his nose high in the air, like a war trumpet.