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A Siren

T >> Thomas Adolphus Trollope >> A Siren



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A SIREN

By Thomas Adolphus Trollope




CONTENTS

BOOK I
Ash Wednesday Morning
CHAPTER
I The Last Night of Carnival
II Apollo Vindex
III St. Apollinare in Classe
IV Father Fabiano
V "The Hours passed, and still she came not"
VI Gigia's Opinion
VII An Attorney-at-Law in the Papal States
VIII Lost in the Forest
IX "Passa la bella Donna e par che dorma"

BOOK II
Four Mmonth Before That Ash Wednesday Morning
CHAPTER
I How the Good News came to Ravenna
II The Marchese Lamberto di Castelmare
III The Impresario's Report
IV Paolina Foscarelli
V Rivalry
VI The Beginning of Trouble
VII The Teaching of a Great Love
VIII A Change in the Situation
IX Uncle and Nephew
X The Coutessa Violante
XI The Cardinal's Reception, and the Marchese's Ball
XII The Arrival of the "Diva"

BOOK III
"Sirenum Pocula"
CHAPTER
I "Diva Potens"
II An Adopted Father and an Adopted Daughter
III "Armed at All Points"
IV Throwing the Line
V After-thoughts
VI At the Circolo
VII Extremes Meet
VIII The Diva shows her Cards
IX One Struggle more

BOOR IV
The Last Days of the Carnival

CHAPTER
I In the Cardinal's Chapel
II The Corso
III "La Sonnambula"
IV The Marchese Lamberto's Correspondence
V Bianca at Home
VI Paolina at Home
VII Two Interviews
VIII A Carnival Reception
IX Paolina's Return to the City

BOOK V
Who Did The Deed?
CHAPTER
I At the City Gate
II Suspicion
III Guilty or Not Guilty?
IV The Marchese hears the Ill News
V Doubts and Possibilities
VI At the Circolo again
VII A Prison Visit
VIII Signor Giovacchino Fortini at Home
IX The Post-Mortem Examination
X Public Opinion
XI In Father Fabiano's Cell
XII The Case against Paolina

BOOK VI
Poena Pede Claudo
CHAPTER
I Signor Fortini receives the Signora Steno in his Studio
II Was it Paolina after all?
III Could it have been the Aged Friar?
IV What Ravenna thought of it
V "Miserrimus"
VI The Trial
VII The Friar's Testimony
VIII The Truth!
IX Conclusion




A SIREN

By Thomas Adolphus Trollope




BOOK I

Ash Wednesday Morning



CHAPTER I

The Last Night of Carnival


It was Carnival time in the ancient and once imperial, but now
provincial and remote, city of Ravenna. It was Carnival time, and
the very acme and high-tide of that season of mirth and revel. For
the theory of Carnival observance is, that the life of it, unlike
that of most other things and beings, is intensified with a
constantly crescendo movement up to the last minutes of its
existence. And there now remained but an hour before midnight on the
Tuesday preceding the first day of Lent, Ash Wednesday--Dies
Cinerum!--that sad and sober morrow which has brought with it
"sermons and soda-water" to so many generations of revellers.

Of course Carnival, according to the Calendar and Time's hour-glass,
is over at twelve o'clock on the night of Shrove Tuesday. Generally,
however, in the pleasure-loving cities of Italy, a few hours' law
are allowed or winked at. The revellers are not supposed to become
aware that it is past midnight till about three or four in the
morning.

Very generally the wind-up of the season of fun and frolic consists
of what is called a "Veglione," or "great making a night of it,"
which means a masked ball at the theatre. And the great central
chandelier does not begin to descend into the body of the house, to
have its lights flapped out by the handkerchiefs of the revellers
amid a last frantic rondo, till some four hours after midnight. But
in provincial Ravenna, a Pope's city under the rule of a Cardinal
Legate, there is--or was in the days when the Pope held sway there--
no Veglione. Its place was supplied, as far as "the society" of the
city was concerned, by a ball at the "Circolo dei Nobili."

It was not, therefore, till four o'clock in the morning, or perhaps
even a little later, that the lights would be extinguished on the
night in question at the "Circolo dei Nobili," and Carnival would,
in truth, be over, and the tired holiday-makers would go home to
their beds.

A few hours more remained, and the revelry was at its height, and
the dancers danced as knowing that their minutes were numbered.

There had been a ball on the previous night at the Palazzo of the
Marchese Lamberto di Castelmare. But the scene at the Circolo was a
much more brilliant, animated, and varied one than that of the night
before at the Castelmare palace. The Marchese Lamberto was the
wealthiest noble in Ravenna, and--putting aside his friend the
Cardinal Legate--was, in many other respects, the first and foremost
man of the city. He was a bachelor of some fifty years old. And
bachelors' houses and bachelors' balls have the reputation of
enjoying the privilege of a somewhat freer and more unreserved
gaiety and jollity than those of their neighbours more heavily
weighted with the cares and responsibilities of life. But such was
not the case at the Palazzo Castelmare. Presided over on such
occasions as that of the great annual Carnival ball by a widowed
sister-in-law of the Marchese, the Castelmare palace was the most
decorous and respectable house, as its master was the most decorous
and respectable man, in Ravenna.

Not that it was a dull house. The Marchese Lamberto, though a grave
and dignified personage in the eyes of the "jeunesse doree" of
Ravenna, was looked up to as one of the best loved, as well as most
respected, men in the city. And there was not a member of the
"society" who would not have been sadly hurt at not being invited to
the great annual Carnival ball at the Castelmare palace. But the
same degree of laissez aller jollity would not have been "de mise"
there as was permissible at the Circolo. The fun was not so fast and
furious as it was wont to be at the club of the nobles on the last
night of Carnival.

The whole society were at the latter gathering. All the nobles of
Ravenna were the hosts. and everybody was there solely and entirely
to amuse and enjoy themselves. Host and guests, indeed, were almost
identical. There were but few persons present, and those strangers
to the town, who did not belong to their own class.

To the Marchese, on the previous night, most of the company had
contented themselves with going in "domino." At the Circolo ball a
very large proportion of the dancers were in costume. The Conte
Leandro Lombardoni,--lady-killer, Don Juan, and poet, whose fortunes
and misfortunes in these characters had made him the butt of the
entire society, and had perhaps contributed, together with his well-
known extraordinarily pronounced propensity for cramming himself
with pastry, to give him the pale, puffed, pasty face, swelling
around a pair of pale fish-like eyes, that distinguished him,--the
Conte Leandro Lombardoni; indeed, had gone to the Castelmare palace
as "Apollo," in a costume which young Ludovico Castelmare, the
Marchese Lamberto's nephew, would insist on mistaking for that of
Aesop; and had now, according to a programme perfectly well known
previously throughout the city, come to the Circolo as "Dante." The
Tuscan "lucco," or long flowing gown, had at least the advantage of
concealing from the public eye much that the Apollo costume had
injudiciously exhibited.

Ludovico Castelmare had adopted the costume of a Venetian noble of
the sixteenth century; and very strikingly handsome he looked in
that most picturesque of all dresses. The Marchese Lamberto was at
the ball, of course, but not in costume. Perhaps the most striking
figure in the rooms, however, was one of those few persons who have
been mentioned as present, but not belonging to Ravenna, or to the
class of its nobles. This was a lady, well known at that day
throughout Italy as Bianca Lalli--"La Lalli," or "La Bianca," in
theatrical parlance--for she was one of the first singers of the
day. Special circumstances--to be explained at a future page--had
rendered it possible for remote little Ravenna to secure the
celebrated artist for the Carnival, which was now expiring. The
Marchese Lamberto, who, among many other avocations and occupations,
all of them contributing in some way or other to the welfare and
advantage of his native city, was a great lover and connoisseur of
music, and patron of the theatre, had been mainly instrumental in
bringing La Lalli to Ravenna. The engagement had been a most
successful one. The "Diva Bianca" had sung through the Carnival,
charming all ears and hearts in Ravenna with her voice, and all eyes
with her very remarkable and fascinating beauty. And now, on this
last night of the festive season, she was the cynosure of all eyes
at the ball.

Bianca had, as it so happened, also chosen a Venetian costume of the
same period as that of Ludovico--about the middle of the sixteenth
century. In truth, it was mere chance that had led to this
similarity. And neither of them, as it happened, had mentioned to
the other the dress they intended to wear. Bianca, in fact, used as
she was to wear costumes of all sorts, and to outshine all beauties
near her in all or any of them, had thought nothing about her dress,
till the evening before; and then had consulted the Marchese
Lamberto on the subject: but had been so much occupied with him
during nearly the whole of that evening at his ball, that she had
not said a word about it to any one else.

It could not but seem, however, to everybody that the Marchese
Ludovico and La Lalli had agreed together to represent a pair
belonging to the most gorgeous and picturesque days of Venetian
history. And a most magnificently handsome pair they made. Bianca's
dress, or at least the general appearance and effect of it, will
readily be imagined by those acquainted with the full-length
portraits of Titian or Tintoretto. A more strictly "proper" costume
no lady could wish to wear. And the jeunesse doree of Ravenna, who
had thought it likely that the Diva would appear as some light-
skirted Flora, or high-kirtled Diana, were altogether disappointed.

But there was much joking and raillery about the evident and notable
pair-ship of Ludovico and Bianca; and it came to pass that, almost
without any special intention on their own part, they were thrown
much together, and danced together frequently. And this, under the
circumstances, was still more the case than it would have otherwise
been, in consequence of the Marchese Lamberto not dancing. It was a
long time since he had done so. There were many men dancing less
fitted than he, as far as appearance and capability, and even as far
as years went, to join in such amusements. Nevertheless, all Ravenna
would have been almost as much surprised to see the Marchese
Lamberto dressed in mumming costume, and making one among Carnival
revellers, as to see the Cardinal himself doing the same things. He
had made for himself a social position, and a life so much apart
from any such levities, that his participation in them would have
seemed a monstrosity.

It may be doubted, however, whether on this occasion, at least, the
dignified Marchese was satisfied with the position he had thus made
for himself. It would have been too absurd and remarkable for La
Bianca to have abstained from dancing and attached herself to him in
the ball-room, instead of consorting with the younger folks. Of
course that was entirely out of the question. But none the less for
that was the evening a time of cruel suffering and martyrdom to the
Marchese. Of course he believed that the adoption of so singularly
similar a costume by Bianca and his nephew was the result of pre-
arranged agreement. And the thought, and all that his embittered
fancy built upon the thought, were making everything around him, and
all the prospect of his life before him, utterly intolerable to him.

Ludovico and Bianca had been dancing together for the third time--a
waltz fast and furious, which they had kept up almost incessantly
till the music had ceased. Heated and breathless, he led her out of
the ball-room to get some refreshment. There was a large supper-room
which, on the cessation of the waltz, immediately became crowded by
other couples bent on a similar errand. But there had also been
established a little subsidiary buffet in a small cabinet at the
furthest end of the suite of rooms, for the purpose of drawing off
some of the crowd from the main supper-room. And thither Ludovico
led Bianca, thinking to avoid the crush of people rushing in to the
larger room.

The young Marchese--the "Marchesino," as he was often called, to
distinguish him from his uncle, the Marchese Lamberto--was one of
the small committee of the Circolo, who had had the management of
all the arrangements for the ball; and was, accordingly, well aware
of the whereabouts of this little "succursale" to the supper-room.
But it is probable that the existence of it was unknown to the great
majority of the company. At all events, so it happened, that when
Ludovico and Bianca reached it, it was wholly untenanted, save by
Dante, in his long red gown, solitarily occupied in cramming himself
with pastry.

"What, Dante in exile!" cried Ludovico. "Pray, Sir Poet, which
bolgia was set apart for those who are lost by the `peccato della
gola?' or is a bilious fit in the more immediate future bolgia
fearful enough?"

"It is not so bad a bolgia as that appointed some other sins," said
the Conte Leandro, with mouth stuffed with cake, as he moved out of
room.

"What an animal it is!" said Ludovico, laughing, as he gave Bianca a
glass of champagne, and filled another for himself.

"Take some of this woodcock pie, Signora Bianca? You must be starved
by this time; and I can recommend it."

"How so? You have not tasted it yourself yet."

"No; but I am going to do so. And my recommendation is based on my
knowledge of the qualities of our woodcocks. They are the finest in
the world. The marshes in the neighbourhood of the Pineta breed them
in immense quantities."

"Oh, I have heard so much of the Pineta. They say it is so lovely."

"The most beautiful forest in the world. And this is just the time
when it is in its greatest beauty,--the early spring, when the wild
flowers are all beginning to blossom, and the birds are all singing.
There is nothing like our Pineta!"

"I should so like to see it. It does seem really a shame to leave
Ravenna without ever having seen the Pineta."

"Oh, you must not dream of doing so. You must make a little
excursion one of these fine spring days. It is just the time for it.
Some morning, the earlier the better. But I dare say your habits are
not very matutinal, Signora?"

"Well, not very, for the most part. But I would willingly make them
matutinal for such a purpose at any time. How far is it?"

"Oh, a mere nothing--at the city gates almost a couple of miles,
perhaps. You may go out by the Porta Nuova, at the end of the Corso,
and so to that part of the forest which lies to the southward of the
city; or by the northern road, which very soon enters the wood on
that side. Perhaps the finest part of the Pineta is that to the
southwards. Of all places in the world it is the spot for a
colazione al fresco."

"I should so like it. I have heard of the Pineta di Ravenna all my
life."

"What do you say to going this very morning?" said Ludovico, after
thinking for a minute. "There is no time like the present. It will
be a charming finish to our Carnival--new and original, too! Do you
feel as if you had go enough left for it?"

"Oh, as for that," said Bianca, laughing with lips and eyes, "I am
up to anything. I should like it of all things. But--"

"Ah! what a terrible word that 'but' is. But what?" said Ludovico,
who had no sooner conceived the idea than he became eager to put it
into execution. "But what?"

"But--a great many things. Unhappily, there is no word comes oftener
into one's life than that odious 'but.' But who is to go with me? I
cannot go all alone by myself?"

"Oh, that's no but at all. Of course, Signora, I did not propose
such an expedition to you without proposing to myself the honour of
accompanying you," said Ludovico with a profound bow.

"What a scappata! I should like it of all things. But--there it
comes again! `But' the second; will not the good people say all
sorts of ill-natured and absurd things?"

"Not a bit of it--in my case, Signora. Everybody knows that we have
been very good friends; and that I have not been coxcomb enough to
have ever hoped to be aught more to you, having been protected, as
they all know, from such danger in the only way in which a man could
possibly be protected from it," said Ludovico, bowing again.

"Dear me! What way is that? It might be so useful to know. Would it
be equally applicable to a lady, I wonder?" said Bianca, looking at
him half laughingly, half-poutingly, with her head on one side. "Oh
yes! perfectly applicable in all cases, Signora. It is only to have
no heart to lose, having lost it already," returned he.

"Oh, come! This is a confidence dans les regles! And in return for
it, Signor Ludovico, do you know--speaking in all seriousness--that-
-if we really do put this wild scheme into execution--I have a
confidence to give you, and may take that opportunity of making it--
a confidence, not which may or may not be made, like yours, but
which I ought to make to you, the necessity of making which
furnishes, to say the truth, a very plausible reason for our
projected tete-a-tete."

"Davvero, Signora! Better and better; I shall be charmed to receive
such a mark of your friendship," said Ludovico, thinking and caring
little on what subject it might be that the Diva purposed speaking
to him: "and then, the fact is," he continued, "that to-morrow
morning will be the best morning for the purpose of all the days of
the year. For we shall be quite sure that every soul here will be in
bed and asleep. On the first morning in Lent one is tolerably safe
not to fall in with early risers. Our little trip, you may be very
sure, will never be heard of by anybody, unless we choose to tell of
it ourselves."

"And I am sure that I do not see why we should not," said Bianca.

"I see no reason against telling all the town, for my part,"
rejoined Ludovico; "afterwards though--you understand; and not
beforehand, or our little escapade would be spoilt by some blockhead
or other insisting on joining us. Our friend Leandro there, for
instance; think of it!"

"The idea is a nightmare! No; we will not say a word till
afterwards. 'Tis the most charming notion for a finale to a Carnival
that ever was conceived. I make you my compliments on it, Signor
Ludovico."

"So, then, all the `buts' have been butted and rebutted?" said he.

"Well, I suppose so,"--by the help of a strong desire to yield to
the temptation of so pleasant a scheme, the way `buts' generally are
answered. "But we cannot go on the expedition as we are, I suppose?"
said she.

"I don't see why not. I dare say the old pines have seen similar
figures beneath them before now. But you would not be comfortable
without changing your dress, and the mornings are still sharp. This
is how it must be. I will slip away before long, and make all
preparation necessary. I will get a bagarino and a pony--not from
the Castelmare stables, you understand, but from a man I know and
can trust--and I will come with it to the door of your lodging at
six o'clock. You will stay at the ball till the end. Everybody will
go by four o'clock, or soon after. That will give you plenty of time
to change your dress. By six o'clock every soul in Ravenna will be
fast asleep. We shall drive to a little farm-house I know on the
border of the forest, leave our bagarino there, and have our stroll
under the trees just as long and as far as is agreeable to you.
Won't that do?"

"Perfect! I shall enjoy it amazingly. I will be sure to be ready
when you come at six o'clock."

"I will be there at six or thereabouts. Now we will go back to the
ball-room; but don't dance till you have not a leg left to stand on.
We must have a good long stroll in the Pineta."

"Lascia fare a me! I dare say I shan't dance another dance--unless,
indeed, we have one more turn together before you go. Is there
time?"

"Oh yes, for that plenty of time. If you are not afraid of tiring
yourself, one more last dance by all means."

So giving her his arm, the Marchesino led his beautiful and
fascinating companion back to the ballroom, where the music was
again making the most of the time with another waltz.



CHAPTER II

Apollo Vindex


The Conte Leandro Lombardoni had not passed a pleasant Carnival.
Reconciled, as he had recently professed himself to be--after some
one of the frequent misfortunes that happened to his intercourse
with them--with the fair sex, he had begun his Carnival by
attempting to make his merit acceptable in the eyes of La Lalli; and
had failed to obtain any recognition from her, even as a poet, to
say nothing of his pretensions as a Don Juan. To a certain limited
degree, it had been forced upon his perception, that he had been
making an ass of himself; and the appreciation of that fact by the
other young men among whom he lived had been indicated with that
coarse brutality, as the poet said to himself, which was the outcome
of minds not "softened by the study of the ingenuous arts," as his
own was. He had been consistently snubbed and flouted, he and his
poetry, and his love-making, and his carefully prepared Carnival
costumes.

The result was, that at the ball on that last night of the Carnival,
the Conte Leandro was not in charity with all men, and, indeed,
hardly with any man. He was feeling very sore, and would fain have
avenged his pain by making any one else feel equally sore, if he had
it in his power to do so.

He was especially angry with Ludovico di Castelmare. Had he not
chaffed him unmercifully about the verses he had sent to La Bianca?
Was it not, to all appearance, due to him that the Diva had never
condescended to cast a glance on either him or his poetry? Had he
not called him Aesop, when it was plain to all the world that he
represented Apollo? And now this night, again, he had taken the
opportunity of turning him into ridicule in the presence of La
Bianca; and he and she had spoken of the possibility of their being
troubled with his company as of a nightmare. For the painful fact
was that their uncomplimentary expressions had been heard by the
poet; who, when he had left Ludovico and Bianca in the little
supper-room together, had retreated no further than just to the
other side of a curtain, which hung, Italian fashion, by the side of
the open door. Finding that there was nobody there--for the little
buffet was at the end of the entire suite of rooms, and all those
who were not either in the ball-room, or in the card-room, were at
that moment in the principal supper-room--it had seemed well to the
Conte Leandro, in his dudgeon and spite against all the world, to
ensconce himself quietly behind the curtain, and hear what use
Ludovico and Bianca would make of their tete-a-tete.

The first advantage he obtained was to hear himself spoken of as a
nightmare; and that naturally: prompted him to prick up his ears to
hear more. But when he had thus learned the whole secret of the
projected expedition, it struck him, as well worth considering,
whether there might not be found in this the means of making his
tormentor pay him for some of the annoyances he had suffered at his
hands.

So! the Marchese Ludovico, who ought to be paying his addresses to
the Contessa Violante in the sight of all Ravenna--the Contessa
Violante Marliani was great niece of the Cardinal Legate, between
whom and the Marchese Ludovico their respective families had
projected an alliance--was, instead of that, going off on a partie
fine with the notorious Bianca Lalli! A tete-a-tete in the Pineta!
Mighty fine, indeed! So sure, too, that nobody in the world would
find them out on Ash Wednesday morning! And he is to be at her door
at six o'clock in the morning! Very good! Capitally well arranged--
were it not that Leandro Lombardoni may perhaps think fit to put a
spoke in the wheel.

A little further consideration of the manner in which such spoke
might be most effectually supplied, decided the angry and malicious
poet--(poets, like women, will become malicious when scorned)--to
seek out the Marchese Lamberto, whom he thought he should probably
find in the card-room. For though the Marchese was no great card-
player, and never touched a card in his own house, he was wont, at
the Circolo, on such occasions as the present, to cast in his lot
with those who so consoled themselves for the years that made the
ball-room no longer their proper territory.

But the Conte Leandro did not find the Marchese among the card-
players.

The events of the evening had already thrown him back again into a
very miserable state of mind, from which the Marchese had been
suffering such torments as the jealous only know, during all the
latter half of the Carnival. It was strange that such a man as the
Marchese Lamberto--it would have seemed passing strange to any of
those his fellow-citizens who had known him, thoroughly as they
supposed, all his life; very strange that such a man, so calm, so
judicious, so little liable to the gusts of passion of any sort; a
man, the even tenor of whose well-regulated life had ever been such
as to expose him rather to the charge of almost apathetic placidity
of temper, should thus suddenly, in the full meridian time of his
mature years, become subject to such violent oscillations of
passion; to such buffetings by storms, blowing now from one and now
from the opposite quarter of the sky. But no length of prosperous
navigation in the quiet waters of a land-locked harbour will give
evidence of the vessel's fitness to encounter the storms and the
waves of the open sea. The storm-wind of a strong passion had, all
at once for the first time, blown in upon the sheltered harbour in
which that placid life had been led.

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