"Besides, Madonna Bianca had him cut down to save his life," cried the girl who stood nearest his head. "You would fain please her, I trow, father. I heard her myself pray for him to be cut down, and she will be glad to hear we have recovered him. It was that which made me run away for Giulio as soon as the order was given."
While this dialogue was going on, the young man, Giulio, had poured the whole bucket of water over the recumbent body on the table, dashing it on with a force which might well have driven the soul out of a living man, but which, on this occasion, seemed to have the very opposite effect of bringing spirit into a dead one. Suddenly the eyelids closed over the staring eyes; there was a shudder passed over the whole frame; the fingers seemed to grasp at some fancied object on the table, and at length respiration returned, at first in fitful gasps, but soon with regular and even quiet action. The eyes then opened again, and turned from face to face with some degree of consciousness; but they closed again after a momentary glance around, and he fell into what seemed a heavy sleep, distinguished from that still heavier sleep into which he had lately lain by the equable heaving of the chest.
The mother and the two girls looked on rejoicing, and Giulio, too, had a well-satisfied look, for such are the powers of that wonderful quality called vanity, that as it was under his hand the man recovered, he attributed his resuscitation entirely to his own skill; and had his patient been the devil himself come to plague him and all the world, good Giulio would have glorified himself upon the triumph of his exertions. And well he might; for, unfortunately, as this world goes, men glory as much over their success in bad as in good actions, judging not the merit of deeds by their consequences, even where those consequences are self-evident. Success, success is all that the world esteems. It is the gold that will not tarnish--the diamond whose lustre no breath can dim.
The old contadino, however, was even less pleased with the result of his family's efforts than he had been with the efforts themselves.
"Satan will owe us something," he muttered, "for snatching from him one of his own, and he is a gentleman who always pays his debts. By my faith, I will go up and tell the count what has chanced. I do not choose to be blamed for these women's mad folly. Better let him know at once, while the fellow is in such a state that a pillow over his mouth will soon put out the lighted flame they have lighted in him--if my lord pleases."
"What are you murmuring there, you old hyena?" asked his gentle wife.
"Oh, nothing, nothing, good dame," replied the husband; "'twas only the fellow's grimaces made me sick, and I must out into the podere. C--e! I did not think you would have succeeded so well with the poor devil. I hope he'll soon be able to jog away from here; for, though he may move and talk again--and I dare say he will--I shall always look upon him as a dead man, notwithstanding. Suppose, now, that it should not be his own soul that has come back into him, wife, but some bad spirit, that all your working and water--I am sure it was not holy water--has brought back into his poor, miserable corpse!"
"Jesu Maria! do not put such thoughts into my head, Giovanozzo," exclaimed the old lady with a look of horror; "but that cannot be, either, for I made Giulio put some salt into the water, and the devil can never stand that; so go along with you. You cannot frighten me. Go and try to get back your senses, for you seem to have lost them, good man."
The contadino was glad to get away unquestioned; and, unlocking the door, he issued forth from his house. At first he did not turn his steps toward the villa, but took a path which led down to the river. At the distance of some hundred or hundred and fifty yards, however, where the trees screened him from his own dwelling, he looked round to see that none of his family followed, and then turned directly up the little rise. When near the terrace he saw a man coming down the steps toward him, and suddenly paused; but a moment's observation showed him that he need have no alarm. The person who approached was no other than Antonio, between whom and the good peasant a considerable intimacy had sprung up since Lorenzo Visconti had been at the Villa Rovera. Would you taste the best wine on an estate, or eat the sweetest fig of the season, make friends with the contadino and his family; and, perhaps acting on this maxim, Antonio had often been down to pass an hour or two with Giovanozzo, and enliven the whole household with his jests.
"The very man," said the contadino to himself; "he'll tell me just what I ought to do. He has travelled, and seen all manner of things. He is just the person. Signor Antonio, good morning to your excellency! What is in the wind to-day?"