In the view of committing to writing his scientific observations on the development of his plant, from the moment of its germination, he tried to seduce Ludovico into furnishing him with pens and paper. He expected, indeed, to find the jailer resume on this occasion an air of importance, and raise a thousand difficulties, but probably yield in the sequel out of love for his captive, or his god-daughter, or worldly pelf; for where perquisites were concerned, turnkey-nature was still uppermost. But to Charney’s great surprise, Ludovico received his propositions with the most frank good-humour.
“Pens and ink? Nothing more easy, Signor Conte!” said he, tapping his pipe and turning aside his head to keep it alive by a whiff or two; for he made it a point to abstain from smoking in presence of the Count, to whom the smell of tobacco was disagreeable. “I, for my part, have no objection. But you see, such little tools as pens and paper remain under the lock and key of the governor, not under mine; and if you want writing materials, you have only to memorialize the captain-commandant, and your business is done!”
Charney smiled, and persevered.
“But in order to frame my petition, good Ludovico,” said he, “pens, ink, and paper are, in the first instance, indispensable?”
“True, eccellenza, true! But we must drag back the donkey by the tail to make it get on—no uncommon method with petitions,” quoth the jailer, half aside, crossing his hands consequentially behind him. “I must go straight to the governor, and tell him you have a request to make, no matter about what. That is not my business, but his and yours. If inconvenient to him to visit you in person, he’ll send his man of business, who will furnish you with a pen and a piece of stamped paper, just one sheet, ruled in form for a petition, on which you must inscribe your memorial in his presence; after which, he places his seal on it in yours; you return the pen to him, he makes you a bow, and away he goes with the petition!”
“But it is not from the governor I ask for paper, Ludovico, ’tis from yourself.”
“From me? You don’t then happen to know my orders!” replied the jailer, resuming his accustomed severity. Then drawing a deep breath of his pipe, he exhaled the smoke with much deliberation, eying the Count askance during the process, turned on his heel, and quitted the room.
Next day, when Charney returned to the charge, Ludovico contented himself with winking his eye, shaking his head, and shrugging his shoulders. Not a word now was to be extracted from him.
Too proud to humiliate himself to the governor, but still bent upon his project, Charney now set to work to make a pen for himself out of a crow-quill tooth-pick. With some soot, carefully dissolved in one of the golden cups of his dressing-case, he furnished himself with ink and inkstand; while his cambric handkerchiefs, relics of a former splendour, were made to serve for writing-paper. With these awkward materials, he resolved to record the peculiarities of Picciola; occupying himself, even when absent from his favourite, with details of her life and history.
What profound remarks already presented themselves for inscription! What pleasure would Charney have found in communicating his observations to any intelligent human being! His neighbour, the fly-catcher, might have been a satisfactory auditor; for Charney had now found occasion to admire the bland and benevolent expression of a countenance at first sight commonplace. Whenever the old man stood contemplating from his little window, with an inquiring and propitious eye, the beauty of Picciola, and the attentions of her votary, the Count felt irresistibly attracted towards his fellow-prisoner. Nay, smiles and salutations with the hand had been exchanged between them; and it was only the rigid interdiction of all intercourse between prisoners at Fenestrella, which prevented mutual inquiries after each other’s health and pursuits. The solitary explorers into the mysteries of nature were therefore compelled to keep to themselves their grand discoveries in botany and entomology.