G. A. Henty - "Colonel Thorndyke's Secret"

John Greenleaf Whittier - "Occasional Poems"

John Greenleaf Whittier - "Tales and Sketches"

Joseph A. Altsheler - "The Sword of Antietam"

A Siren

T >> Thomas Adolphus Trollope >> A Siren




Just then a servant of the Circolo came into the room and put a note
into the hands of the Baron Manutoli.

"It is from Ludovico, asking me to go to him. So there's an end to
our game of billiards, Signor Conte," said Manutoli to one of the
group; "I must go at once."

"But you'll come back here after you've seen him, won't you? You'll
come back and tell us all about it, Manutoli?" said two or three of
the group which had been discussing the topic.

"I don't know, I shall see. I will, if I can--if it's not too late.
It may be that I shall be detained with him. I suppose that he has
had no means of communicating with any of his people since the
police folk clapped their hands on him."

"Do look in here for a moment, Manutoli. We shall all be anxious to
hear about him, poor fellow,", said another of the young men, who
had pressed around Signor Manutoli as soon as it was known from whom
his note had come.

"If I can I will. It is likely enough he may want me to go somewhere
else for him. We shall see. A rivederci, Signori."



CHAPTER VII

A Prison Visit


The note which had been given to the Baron Manutoli begged him to
come with as little delay as possible to the Palazzo del Governo.

Adolfo Manutoli was a somewhat older man than the majority of those
who had formed the group which had been discussing the all-absorbing
topic of the day at the Circolo; and he was Ludovico di Castelmare's
most intimate friend among the younger members of the society in
which he lived. It was a friendship strongly approved by the
Marchese Lamberto, as might have been perceived by his selection of
Manutoli to accompany him on the occasion of meeting La Lalli on her
first arrival in Ravenna, as the reader may possibly remember. And
the special ground of this approval was Manutoli's strong advocacy
of the projected marriage between Ludovico and the Contessa
Violante, and his consequent disapproval and discouragement of his
friend's friendship and admiration for Paolina. He was not a man who
would have counselled or desired his friend to behave badly or
unworthily to Paolina or to any woman; for he was a man of honour
and a gentleman. But, short of any conduct which could be so
characterized, he would have been very glad to see the Marchese quit
of an entanglement which alone stood in the way, as he conceived, of
his forming an alliance so desirable in every point of view as the
marriage with the great-niece of the Cardinal Legate.

"Can I be permitted to see the Marchese Ludovico, Signor
Commissario? He has requested me to come to him," said the Baron, on
arriving at the police-office.

"Certainly, Signor Barone. I myself sent his note to you. Though, on
his own statement of the very unfortunate circumstances connected
with this unhappy affair, I was compelled to detain him, still there
is at present no definite accusation against him which should
justify me in preventing him from having free communication with his
friends. You shall be taken to his room immediately. You will see,
Signor Barone, that we have endeavoured to make him as comfortable
as the circumstances would allow."

"Manutoli," said Ludovico, after the first expressions of
astonishment and condolence had been spoken between the young men,
"of course I knew I should see you here before long; and my note was
to call you at once, instead of waiting to see you in the morning;
because I want you to do something for me before you sleep this
night--something that I don't want to wait for till to-morrow
morning."

"To be sure, my dear fellow, anything; I am ready for anything, if
it takes all night."

"Thanks. Well, now, look here: I am innocent of this deed--"

"S' intende; of course you are."

"S' intende, of course; that's just the worst of it. It is so much a
matter of course that I should say I had not done it if I had, that
my saying so is of no use at all. Nevertheless, to you I must say
that I neither did it nor have I the slightest conception or
suspicion who did. And you may guess that the fact itself is a
horror and a grief to me that I shall never get over, putting this
dreadful suspicion of my own guilt out of the question. A horror and
a grief, and a remorse, too; for if I had not moved away from her
the tragedy could not have happened."

"I really do not see that you need blame yourself for--"

"I ought not to have left her side. Yet, God knows, it never entered
my head to dream of the possibility of any harm; all seemed so
still, so peaceful, so utterly quiet; yet, at that moment, the hand
that did the deed could not have been far off."

"Let the circumstances have been what they might," resumed Manutoli,
after a moment's pause, "nobody would have dreamed of connecting you
with the deed had it not been for the strong motive which seems so
clear and intelligible to every fool who sets his brains to work on
the matter. I suppose it is true that you had been informed of your
uncle's intention to offer the poor girl marriage?"

"True that I had been told of it, for the first time, by herself
during our drive, poor girl."

"Ah--h--h! To think of such a man being guilty of such insane folly-
-and of all the misery that is likely to grow out of it. How on
earth did she ever contrive to get such a fatal influence over him?"

"She schemed for it from her first arrival here--aimed avowedly to
herself at nothing less than inducing the Marchese di Castelmare to
marry her--and succeeded. For all that, I'll tell you what, Adolfo--
there was a great deal more good in that poor girl than you would
have thought."

"Bah! Good in her--Well, she's gone. She has had her reward, poor
soul; and I pity her with all my heart. But as for the good in her--
"

"There was good in her, and not a little. I tell you that if you or
any one else could have heard all that passed between us, I should
hardly be suspected of having murdered her, poor girl."

"That is likely enough; but--"

"Do you know, Manutoli, I have a very strong idea that if this had
not happened, the marriage with the Marchese would never have come
off?"

"You think that, between us all, we should have induced him to
listen to reason?"

"I don't know about that; I was not thinking of that; I think that
Bianca would have been induced to listen to reason; I think that the
scheme would have come to nothing through her renunciation of it."

"When, according to your own account, she had been scheming all the
time she has been here to bring it about?" said Manutoli, with
arched eyebrows.

"Yes, even so. She had never known--how should she?--that such a
marriage would turn me out on the world a beggar; she had never
known what sort and what degree of misery and ruin it would bring
about to all parties."

"And you told her this?"

"Yes, in some degree I told her. As to the effect of such a marriage
on myself, I told her simply the entire truth."

"And you are disposed to think that the Diva--No, poor girl! I
didn't mean to speak sneeringly of her. She has paid for her fault a
heavier penalty than it deserved, any way. You are disposed to
think, then, that she would have given up the prize of all her
scheming--this marriage, which was to have given her everything in
the world that she could desire, and more than she could have ever
dreamed of attaining; she would have voluntarily relinquished all
this, you think, for your sake?"

"I'll tell you what it is, Manutoli. A man can never appreciate,--
can never fathom, the depth of woman's generosity till he has tried
it."

"But, caro mio,--after all I don't want to be hard upon her, poor
soul, God knows!--but to expect generosity on such a point from such
a woman--"

"You may say what you will, Manutoli, I know what she was, poor
girl, as well as you do--better, a great deal; for, I tell you, that
there was a real generosity in her nature. Look here," continued
Ludovico; after a pause of a minute or two, "I would not say it to
anybody else than you, or to you either, except under circumstances
that make one wish to state the whole truth exactly as it was. It
seems so coxcomblike,--so like what our friend Leandro would say;
but I may say it to you. The fact is, I have a kind of idea that
that poor Bianca was inclined to like me. She cried when I told her-
-"

"Aha, j'y suis! Now I begin to be able to fathom the depth of a
woman's generosity. Given the fact of becoming Marchesa di
Castelmare, the lady was not disinclined to become so by catching
the nephew instead of the uncle; and small blame to her."

"You do not do the poor woman justice, Manutoli."

"Any way, I do you justice; and I know you well enough, Ludovico
mio, to understand that the generosity of such a girl as this poor
Lalli was, taking that special form, must have been very touching to
you."

"You forget, Manutoli, how little accessible I was to the flattery
of any such preference, with my whole heart full of a very different
person."

"And I was just thinking, to tell you the truth, how the little
scene in the bagarino would have struck that other person if she
could have seen La Bianca giving you to understand, amid her tears,
upon what terms she would consent not to come between you and your
natural inheritance."

"That other person did see us in the bagarino; and that brings me to
the motive which led me to beg you to come to me this evening.
Somehow or other, it has become known to these people here that
Paolina went out of the Porta Nuova at a very early hour this
morning. The fact is, that she simply went to see whether the
scaffolding, which I had had prepared for her copying work there,
was all right, and ready for her to begin her task there; and all
that can be proved, of course. But the same idea that occurred to
you just now, that Paolina might not have liked to see me driving
with La Bianca, has suggested itself to some other wiseacre,--I beg
your pardon, Manutoli,--and it seems that an absurd notion--a notion
the monstrous absurdity of which is a matter of amazement to me--has
been engendered that my poor Paolina may have been the perpetrator
of the crime. The idea! If they only knew her! But the Commissary
here has been cross-questioning me in a way that shows that is the
notion he has in his head. Whether they know that Paolina really did
see us in the bagarino together--she did so from the window in the
Church of St. Apollinare--or whether they only know that she left
the city by that gate early in the morning, I can't tell; but it is
sure to be found out that she did really see us,--the more so, that
she will say so to the first person who asks her" the poor innocent
darling. And what I want you do is to see her, and prepare her, poor
child, for the possibility of being arrested, and make her
understand that no harm can possibly come to her. Try to save her
from being frightened. She knows well enough, just as well as I know
myself, that I have not done this thing. Try to make her understand
that a little time only is necessary for the finding out of the real
culprit; that it is sure to be discovered, and that, as far as we
are concerned, it is all sure to come right."

"You wish me to go to her at once?"

"Yes, if you would be so kind. What I am anxious for is that you
should see her before any order for her arrest shall have been
issued. But that is not all. I want you to see Fortini also. I want
you to ascertain from him how far it is possible or probable that
any suspicion may rest on Paolina in consequence of the facts which
are known; how far it is likely that any attempt may be made to set
up a case against her. And I want you to tell him that it will be
wholly and utterly vain to make any such attempt, that the result
would only be entirely to cripple my own defence. For you must
understand once for all, and make him understand once for all, that
rather than allow her to be convicted of a deed of which she is as
innocent as you are, I would confess myself to be the guilty party.
It shall not be, Manutoli, mark what I say, it shall not be, that
she shall be dragged to ruin and destruction by my misfortune, or
imprudence, call it what you will. Of this, of course, you will say
no word to her. But I beg you to leave no shade of a doubt as to my
settled purpose in this matter on the mind of Signor Fortini. It is
he, of course, who will have the duty of preparing and conducting my
defence; and it is essential that he should understand this rightly.
Will you do this for me?"

"Of course I will--this or anything else that I can do for you. But
I can't undertake to say what Signor Giovacchino Fortini may think,
or say, or do in the matter, you know. I will take your message, and
then, of course, you will see him yourself in the course of to-
morrow morning. Of course, old fellow, I need not tell you that I am
sure you did not murder the girl; but it is altogether one of the
most mysterious things I ever heard of. Nevertheless my notion is
that we shall find out the culprit yet. And you may depend on it
that two-thirds of the whole population of the town will be moving
heaven and earth to get some clue to the mystery for your sake."

"It seems to me, too, that such a deed cannot but be found out. I
should be more uneasy than I am, did I not console myself with
thinking so. Now go to Paolina, there is a dear good fellow."

"One word more--shall I see the Marchese?"

"I think, perhaps, it is best not to do so. Of course Fortini
has been with him, and told him everything. I almost thought
that I should have seen him here this evening; but, under the
circumstances, I am better pleased that he should stay away.
Better leave him to Fortini."

"Good-night, then."

"Good-night. You will let me see you to-morrow?"

"I won't fail. Good-night."



CHAPTER VIII

Signor Giovacchino Fortini at Home


The Baron Manutoli was Ludovico di Castelmare's very good friend.
But there are two sorts of friends--friends who show their
friendship by wishing, and endeavouring to obtain for us, what we
wish for ourselves; and friends, whose friendship consists in
wishing for us things analogous to what they wish for themselves;--
who endeavour to procure for us, not what we wish, but what they
consider to be good for us.

Now the Baron Manutoli belonged to the latter of these two
categories. He was some years older than Ludovico; had been a
married man, and was now a widower with one little boy,--the future
Baron Manutoli; and considered himself as having been blessed with a
supreme and exceptional degree of good fortune, with regard to all
that appertained to that difficult and often disastrous chapter of
human destinies which concerns the relations of mankind with the
other sex. Happiness and advantages, ordinarily incompatible and
exclusive of each other, had in his case by a kind destiny been made
compatible. For the representative of an old noble family to remain
single, was bad in many points of view. But on the other hand--when
one's ancestral acres are not so extensive as they once were, and in
nowise more productive--when one likes a quiet life enlivened by a
moderate degree of bachelor's liberty,--when one sees the interiors
of divers of one's contemporaries and friends,--when one thinks of
mothers-in-law, and sisters-in-law, and a whole ramified family-in-
law!--the Baron Manutoli, though he had grieved over the loss of his
young wife when the loss was recent, was now, after some ten years
of widower's life, inclined to think that of the man, who had a
legitimately born son to inherit his name and estate, who had done
his duty towards society by taking a wife, and who was yet enabled
to enjoy all the ease and freedom from care of a bachelor's life, it
might be said, "Omne tulit punctum."

Far as he was from undervaluing the importance of the social duties
of a man and a nobleman in respect to these matters, he had always
been an earnest advocate of the marriage which Ludovico was expected
to make with the Contessa Violante; and had regarded poor Paolina,
from the first, as an intruder and disastrous mischief-maker; and
Ludovico's love for her as the unlucky caprice of a boy, respecting
which, the evident duty of all friends was to do all they could to
discourage it, put it down, and get rid of it.

So that in the matter of the commission which Ludovico had entrusted
to him, the Baron was likely enough to have somewhat different views
from those of his friend.

What a happy turning of misfortune into a blessing it would be, if
this shocking affair should be the means of getting rid of this
unlucky Paolina altogether! Not, of course, that the Baron was
capable of wishing that such getting rid of should be accomplished
by the unjust condemnation of the poor girl for such a crime. God
forbid! But, if there should be found to be a sufficient degree of
suspicion--of unexplainable mystery--to cause the exoneration of
Ludovico, and at the same time, an intimation to the Venetian
stranger that she would do well to remove herself from the happy
territory of the Holy Father, what a Godsend it would be!

Then, again, as to the real fact of Paolina's innocence, Manutoli
was seriously disposed to think that there might be grounds for
considerable doubt. Ludovico's assertions to that effect were of
course unworthy of the slightest attention; the mere ravings of a
man in love. Of course, also, the menace he held out, that if any
attempt were made to throw the onus of the crime on Paolina, he
would meet it by avowing himself guilty, was as entirely to be
disregarded. The paramount business in hand was to clear his friend
of this untoward complication in the matter of the crime which had
so mysteriously been committed. The next consideration was to set
him equally free from his entanglement with Paolina. And with these
thoughts in his mind, the Baron decided that, upon the whole, it
would be better that he should have an interview with lawyer
Fortini, before making his visit to the lady.

He knew that it was too late to look for the lawyer at his "studio;"
and therefore went directly to his residence, where he found the old
gentleman just concluding his solitary supper. Being the evening of
Ash Wednesday, the meal had consisted of a couple of eggs, and a
morsel of tunny fish preserved in oil, very far from a bad relish
for a flask of good wine. And the lawyer was, when Manutoli came in,
aiding his meditations by discussing the remaining half of a small
cobwebbed bottle of the very choicest growth of the Piedmontese
hills.

"I owe you a thousand apologies, Signor Fortini, for coming to
trouble you with business, and very disagreeable business too, here
and at such an hour," began the Baron; "but the interest we all
feel--"

"Not a word of apology is needed, Signor Barone. About this shocking
affair in the Pineta, of course, of course? Pur troppo, we are all
interested, as you say. Will you honour my poor house, Signor
Barone, by tasting what there is in the cellar? I ought to be
ashamed to offer this wine, my ordinary drink at supper, to the
Barone Manutoli"--(the old fellow knew right well that there was not
such another glass of wine in all the city, and that it was rarely
enough that his noble guest drank such)--"but it is drinkable." And
so saying, he called to his old housekeeper to bring another bottle
and a fresh glass before he would allow Manutoli to say a word on
the business that brought him there.

"And now, Signor Barone," said the old lawyer, as soon as the wine
and the praise it merited, had been both duly savoured, "about this
bad business? Do you bring me any information? Information is all we
want. I hope and trust information is all we want," he repeated,
looking hard at the Baron.

"Of course, that is all we want; information which should put us on
some clue to the real perpetrator of this crime."

"That is what we want; that is the one thing needful; and it is
absolutely needful," said the lawyer, again looking meaningly in his
companion's face.

"Of course that is what we want. But even supposing no light upon
the matter can be got at all, it is not to be supposed that--that
any judge would consider there was sufficient ground for assuming
our friend to be guilty?"

"Ah, that's just the point; just the point of the difficulty. We
must not expect, Signor Barone, that the judges will look at the
question quite with the same eyes that we do. They will have none of
the strong persuasion that we--ahem!--that the Marchese Ludovico's
friends have--that he is wholly incapable of committing such a
crime. On the other hand, they are men used to suspicion, and to the
habit of considering a certain amount of suspicion as equivalent to
moral certainty. And I confess--I must confess, my dear sir, that I
am very far from easy as to the result, if we should be unable to
find at least some counterbalancing possibilities, you understand?"

"But it seems to me, Signor, that such are already found; and it was
just upon this point that I was anxious to speak with you to-night.
I have just seen Ludovico. He sent for me to the Circolo. And what
he mainly wanted was to bid me go to the Signorina Paolina
Foscarelli, in order to prepare her for the probability of her own
arrest, and to comfort her with the assurance that no evil could
come to her. Also I was directed by him to tell you, that any
attempt to fix the guilt of this deed on the girl, would be met by
an avowal--a false avowal, of course--that he is himself the guilty
person."

"Ta, ta, ta, ta! Mere stuff, chatter, the talk of a boy in love with
a pretty girl," said the lawyer.

"Just so, just so. Of course we pay no attention to all that. I
promised to go to the girl as he told me; and I shall do so
presently. But I thought it best to see you first. The fact is,
Signor Fortini, that I do not feel any one bit of the certainty that
he professes to feel, that this Venetian girl may not have been the
real assassin."

The lawyer looked shrewdly into Manutoli's face, and nodded his head
slowly three or four times. "What would there be so unlikely in it,"
pursued Manutoli; "girls, and Venetian girls too, have done as much
and more before now? We know that she is in love with him. She sees
him going on such an expedition as that with such a girl as La
Bianca. She has already, no doubt, had cause to be jealous of her.
Ludovico used to see the Lalli frequently. What is more likely?"

"Stay, Signor Barone, one minute. This is an important point; you
say that this Paolina saw her lover with La Bianca. How do you know
that? and how did it come about?"

"Ludovico just told me so; and the girl, it seems, herself told him.
Her story is that she went out to St. Apollinare at an early hour
this morning to look after a scaffolding or some preparation of some
kind that had been made for her to copy some of the mosaics in the
church; and that from a window of the church, being on the
scaffolding, she saw Ludovico and La Bianca driving by in a
bagarino. Now all this probably is true enough. The question is,
What did she do then, when she saw what was so well calculated to
throw her into a frenzy of jealousy? My theory is, that she followed
them into the forest, dogged their steps, and finding her
opportunity at the unlucky moment when Ludovico left Bianca
sleeping, did the murder there and then."

The old lawyer started up from his seat, and thrusting his hands
into the pockets of his trousers took a hasty turn across the room;
and then resuming his seat, tossed off a glass of wine before making
any reply.

"And a very good theory too, Signor Barone. I make you my compliment
on it," he said at last. "I was not aware of all the facts, the
very, important facts, you mention. I had ascertained that this
Venetian girl left the city by the Porta Nuova at a strangely early
hour this morning; and that was enough already, to fix my eye upon
her. But what you now tell me is much more important; advances the
case against her to a far more serious point. Upon my word,"
continued the lawyer, after a pause for further meditation; "upon my
word I begin to think that it is the most likely view of the case
that this Signorina Paolina Foscarelli has been the assassin. At all
events it seems quite as likely a theory as that the Marchese should
have done it. Fully as likely," added the lawyer, rubbing his hands
cheerily; "the motive, as motives to such deeds go, is quite as
great in her case as in his. Greater, or at least more probable!
Jealousy has moved to such acts more frequently than mere
considerations of interest."

"To be sure it has," cried Manutoli; "I think that the circumstances
bear more conclusively against her than against him; I do, upon my
life."

"If only something do not turn up to show that it could not have
been done by her, I think--I do think that we have got all that is
absolutely necessary for us. For observe, Signor Barone, it is not
necessary that she should be convicted. If there is such a
probability that she may have been the criminal as to make it
impossible to say that it is far more likely that one of the parties
suspected should be guilty than the other, there can be no
conviction, and our friend is safe."

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