VIII
THE INTRUDER
Once more, when he saw his father doing the work of two, Michel was ashamed of his absent-mindedness, and hastened to assist him. There was still a temporary staircase to be erected at one side of the ball-room, to communicate with a gallery on the floor above, and afford the anticipated crowd an additional artery of circulation.
They could already hear numerous carriages rumbling in the distance over that magnificent street which is proudly called the Ætnean Road, and which passes through Catania in a straight line, from the water's edge to the foot of Ætna; as if, to quote a traveller, "the people who had erected their superb palaces along that road had intended to afford the angry volcano a way befitting its majesty."
At critical moments, when the time is too short, when the hours seem rather to gallop than to walk, when human forces are at odds with the impossible in some feverish toil, very few men are endowed with sufficient strength of will to retain the hope of triumphing at last. At such moments it is simply a matter of quadrupling one's own faculties and performing a miracle. Most of the workmen were utterly discouraged and proposed to abandon that temporary structure and to conceal the opening with flowers and pictures; in short, to inflict upon the organizers of the fête the unpleasant surprise of a departure from their plans. Pier-Angelo revived the courage of those who seemed well-disposed, and set to work. Michel performed prodigies in the way of assisting them; and in ten minutes, the task which it was said would take two hours was completed as if by magic.
"Michel," then said the old man, wiping his head, which was bald to the base of the skull, "I am satisfied with you, and I see that you are a good workman; which, in my eyes, is an indispensable qualification for any man who wishes to become a great artist. Everyone cannot work fast, and most of those who make haste do bad work. We must not despise them for that. In the ordinary course of affairs all work requires coolness, calculation, orderly management, foresight, in short, common sense—yes, even in loading a cart with stones, there are a thousand ways of going about it and only one right way. One man will take too many on his shovel, another not enough; one lifts his arm too high and throws the stones over the cart, another doesn't lift it high enough and throws them among the wheels. Have you never compared one thing with another and reflected, as you watched the simple work of the fields? Have you seen men digging? In that, as in everything else, there is one good workman to twenty bunglers. And who can say that the man who does as much work with the spade as four others, without tiring himself out and without losing a second, is not a superior man, who would do more difficult things admirably? Tell me, what do you think about it? For my part, I have always had that thought in my mind, and by watching the girls picking strawberries on the mountain, I can pick out the one who will best manage her house and bring up her children someday. Do you think I am talking nonsense? Answer me."
"I think that you are right, father," Michel replied, with a smile; "to work quickly and well, one must combine presence of mind with an ardent will; he must have fever in his blood and a clear head. He must be able to think and act simultaneously. No, that power certainly is not given to everyone; and it is a painful thing to see so many feeble and incompetent organizations in proportion to the small number of placid and powerful ones. Alas! I am alarmed for myself, notwithstanding the praise you have just given me, for I rarely feel in that powerful and productive humor, and if I was in that humor just now, I owe it to your example."
"No, no, Michel, no example is of any use to the impotent. Poor creatures! they do what they can, and that is an excellent reason why those who are stronger and more capable should make it their duty to relieve them. Do you not feel glad and proud to have done it?"
"You are right, father! you can find the noble and praiseworthy aspect of my instincts better than I can myself. Ah! Pier-Angelo, you do not know how to read, and you have had me taught a thousand things that you do not know. And yet you are the light of my mind, and, at every step I take, I feel that you are helping to open a blind man's eyes."
"That is well said!" cried honest Pier-Angelo, with artless joy. "I wish that could be written down. It reminded me of when the actors recite noble sentences on the stage. Let us see, how did you say it? repeat it for me. You called me by my name, as if I were not here, and you were thinking aloud of your old friend. Oh! I love fine words, that I do! Pier-Angelo, you do not know how to write—you began so. And then you compared yourself to a blind man whose light I was—I, a poor ignorant fellow, whose heart sees clear for you, Michel, none the less. I wish I could write poetry in pure Tuscan; but I only know how to improvise in my Sicilian dialect, in which, provided you rhyme in i and u you can always succeed in producing something that resembles poetry. If I could I would write a beautiful ballad about the love and modesty of a son who attributes to his old simpleton of a father all that he discovers about himself; a ballad! there is nothing in the world more perfect than a good ballad. I know a great many of them, but there are very few with which I am perfectly satisfied. I would like to be able to supply something that is lacking in them all. That reminds me that I shall have to sing to-night at supper. Hum! after swallowing such a lot of dust! but there will be plenty of good wine for the workmen to drink. Don't you mean to come? Evidently you don't like to drink with everybody. Perhaps you are right. They say that you are proud; but, on the other hand, you are sober and dignified. You must do what suits you. After all, it's of no use for you to talk, you will never be a simple mechanic like me, whatever you may do. You help me at my work now, and that is well done. But once our little debts are paid, you will return to Rome, for I propose that you shall continue the noble studies that attract you so."
"Ah! father, every word you say goes to my heart. Our little debts! it was I who contracted them, not only for useful studies, but for foolish diversions and insane, childish vanities. And when I think that each year I pass at Rome costs you the whole avails of your toil!"