These terrible discoveries, far from making me cease to love Aurelia, increased incalculably while they changed and purged my love. Pity and terror, says Aristotle in his Poetics, are the soul"s cathartics. Both of these I felt, and emerged the cleaner. By the tune Aurelia had coaxed her husband to come to bed, and had gone thither, with a kiss, herself, I was half way to a great resolve, which, though it resulted in untold misery of body, was actually, as I verily believe, the means of my soul"s salvation. Without ceasing for a moment to love Aurelia, I now loved her honestly again. I could see her a wife, I could know her a loving wife, without one unworthy thought; I could gain glory from what was her glory, I could be enthusiastic upon those virtues in her which to a selfish lover would have been the destruction of his hopes. In a word, I loved her now because she loved another.
There is nothing remarkable in my possession of feelings which no honourable man should be without; nor can I see that what I was moved to do, in consequence of having those feelings, was any way out of the common. If the sweet subservience and careful ministry of Aurelia had moved her husband"s admiration, how much the more must they have moved mine! And what is more natural to the ardent explorer than to announce his discoveries? I had learned that I had loved an angelic being; what wonder that I desired to inform the one person in the world who had a right to know it, that such was my extreme privilege? Of this I am content, reader, to be judged by thee. If my enthusiasm was extravagant, surely it was pardonable. Judge me then as thou wilt, and as thou canst, for the end of this chapter of my history is cardinal.
But there were these moving considerations also. If Aurelia had tacitly reproached herself to her husband with what were my crimes, and only mine--was it not my bounden duty to save her before it were too late?
Must I not avow what, as it seemed, she was on the point of avowing? If she--pure innocent--believed herself guilty and needing forgiveness-- whereas I and I only was that monster--in a few moments" time, when she should be with her husband in the innermost shrine of the Temple of Hymen, I might be sure she would take upon herself the guilt, and alone receive my punishment. Could I endure the thought of this, miserable that I was? Could I suffer such a sacrifice and wear the livery of man?
I knew that I could not. "Out, therefore, of thy hiding-place, sinner,"
I bade myself, "and get the vice scourged out of thee."
These were a part of my reflections, this was my plain resolution.
Generous, honourable, they seemed to me then--honourable alike to Aurelia and to her husband. The doctor had replenished his gla.s.s, and was leaning back in his chair. He had released some of the b.u.t.tons of his vest, and they had flown to their repose. He was looking down at the table, where he twisted the gla.s.s about; he was thinking of his wife, of her sweet humour, innocence and purity--of everything which I so adored and had dared to tarnish. He was frowning and smiling at once at his thoughts. I heard him say to himself, "That"s a good girl--that"s a good girl of mine"--when I walked out of the cupboard and stood, pale but composed, before him at the opposite side of the table. Even then, so absorbed he was in his mellow humours he did not hear me. "Eh, la Madonna!" he mused--"as good as gold!" He stretched his legs out to the full and glanced with lazy luxury round about his room. Then he saw me.
CHAPTER V
DISASTER
"Light of Light!" he said in a horrible whisper--and again, "Very G.o.d--"
"Doctor Lanfranchi," said I seriously, for my pa.s.sion lifted me up, "Doctor Lanfranchi, she is better than refined gold."
He did what I suppose he had not done for many years; he crossed himself over the face. "Bless my soul!" he said.
"Sir, sir," I admonished him, "you little know of what excellent substance that saint is compact. Sir--"
I might have continued I know not how long upon a theme so n.o.ble, but for his astonishment, which, though it kept him stupid, must have a vent. "Who the devil--" stammers he, "What the devil--" It amazed me, and vexed me greatly, that I could not make him understand whom I praised. I went close to him, I touched him on the shoulder.
"Hearken to me, doctor," said I, "Donna Aurelia, your lady, is as it were an angel of Heaven--and I"--I said it with sorrowful grimness--"and I have better reason to know it than you."
He felt my touch, and recoiled from it: he looked at me half askance, from under knitted brows and between blinking lids, as if he thought me a spirit. "Paradise of G.o.d," says he then, "who is this?" His glance lighted upon the cupboard doors set open; he frowned and said, with difference: "And who are you that speak of angels?"
"Sir," I replied, and my convictions were never more firmly in my words, "my name is Wretch, and I am unworthy to live. I am that vile thing once called Francis Strelley, now brought to confusion and conscious of his horrible offence. Sir! Sir!" I said wildly, "Donna Aurelia is the handmaid of high Heaven.--While I, while I--O G.o.d!" emotion poured its hot flood over me. I fell to my knees.
In the painful silence which ensued, and no doubt seemed longer than it actually was, I suppose that he collected some half of the truth, and in the manner of him who sees but half, distorted it to be greater than the whole. His manner towards me altered very materially; he resumed his authority.
"Get up," he said, croaking like a raven; and at first I thought that I dared not, and immediately after knew that I dared. I sprang to my feet, and faced him, livid as he was. "Doctor Lanfranchi," said I, "I have overheard you-by accident--as you praised her. I have heard you call her good. Ah, and in agreeing with you I can testify that you spoke more truth than you dreamed of. No saint in Heaven is so good as she, but it has been required of me that I should grope in h.e.l.l before I could see Heaven in her soul."
He held himself from me by doing violence to his own person--caught at his cravat and gripped it with both hands.
"What are you saying? Say that again. Of what do you accuse yourself?"
"Of sin," I said. He looked at the cupboard, then with chilly rage at me.
"What were you doing in there?" he asked; and that was a terrible question, since there I never ought to have been.
I asked him would he hear me? He nodded his head and sat grimly down by the table, at which of late he had so happily reclined. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand, but kept his piercing eyes upon me.
Disconcerting! but even so, had he listened in silence I might have made him see the truth.
"Sir," I began, "it is true that I love, and have always loved, your wife; and it is true that I have been wicked enough to declare my pa.s.sion. But it is also true that by her, and by her alone, I have been convinced of my presumption." Here he held up his hand.
"Stop there. You say you have been convinced. How were you convinced?
Where were you convinced? Let me understand you. Was it in there?" He jerked his hand towards the fatal cupboard.
"Yes," I replied, "it was in there. I was forced to overhear your conversation with Donna Aurelia, which proved to me that I am less than nothing to her, and that you are all the world."
He snorted, scoffing at the thought. "We shall see soon enough," he said bitterly, "who and what I am."
I continued: "If you think that I have injured YOU--I say nothing of my lady or of myself--you are horribly deceived. On the contrary, I have done you a service. You have the proof to your hand that you are the husband of a pattern among ladies." Here, once more, he looked at the cupboard, and "Ma!" he said, and shrugged. After this, so long as I could speak to him, he tapped his foot.
"Punish me," I advised him; "use me as you will; kill me--I shall not defend myself. I have never yet refused to take the consequences of my acts. But over my dead body, if you are a true man, you will give thanks to G.o.d for the gift of such a wife as you have."
I was indignant, honestly, and, as I think, rightly so; but again he misunderstood me.
He got up and threatened me with his great forefinger. "Enough of your sermons, sir," he said. "Have I lived and taught sucklings all these years to be told my duty to G.o.d Almighty? Will you teach me, forsooth, for what I am to give thanks, and whom I am to correct or chastise? Wait you there, young gentleman--wait you there until I know more about you and my pattern lady." He turned his back upon me, and, wrenching open the chamber door, called harshly upon Aurelia. Immediately--and no doubt she had been quaking for the summons--my adored mistress came trembling out, her hair tumbled about her shoulders, her hands at her neck. Her feet were bare upon the flags, her great and mournful eyes loomed hollow in her face. They were my instant reproof, for now, and now to the full, I saw a fatal consequence of my enthusiastic action. Unhappy Francis, what hadst thou done? Thou hadst intended to abase thyself in her service--and betrayed her. Thou hadst intended to honour, and condemned her to dishonour! Alas, thou hadst gone near to ruining the purest and loveliest of women by revealing those very things which proved her so.
The doctor, at his pitch of most savage and relentless calm, pointed to me and the cupboard--to the criminal and his lurking den together. "Look at those, woman," he said ominously, deliberately, but she could not or would not; and, before she could collect her wits, what must need old Nonna do but make bad worse, and, running, thrust herself in between, and wag her hand under the doctor"s nose.
"Eh, eh, eh, what a bother about nothing!" says this amiable old fool.
"Let us pray all together to the Madonna that you be not sorry for this.
She has done nothing, padron--nothing at all. He alone is wicked--by Diana the Mighty I swear it--and it was I who put him in the cupboard, and therefore know what I am saying. She--a lamb of our Saviour"s flock!
Madness! Are you jealous of a boy without a beard? Do you conceive that your lady could listen to a voice that sang among milk-teeth? Ah, do you listen, rather, padron, to me and the truth, for we are at one together, the truth and I." She stayed for breath.
"Hag," said the doctor, "you are lying. This fine young man has confessed to me the agreeable truth. Madam," he turned to Donna Aurelia, "here is a confessed lover of yours. Pray have you anything to say?"
"He is very foolish, he is very wicked; I have often told him so, often and often," says Aurelia, twisting her hands about. "To-night he has said what he should not--and I believe he knows that very well. I had intended to tell you, if you had come sooner, as I wished--ah, and as I asked you, Porfirio--you would have heard it all from me. That is all. I was frightened--Nonna popped him in the cupboard--how he got out, how you found him there, I know not. But he has done me no harm--nor you neither, Porfirio. That I swear before the saints in Heaven." The doctor glared at her--then took her by the wrist.
"Lies, lies, woman!" he said furiously. "He convicts you himself. He came out of the cupboard of his own act."
She stared in amazement, and forgot the pain he was giving her. "He-- came--out? But----Is he mad?"
"No, madam," said I; and, "No, by Heaven!" cried the doctor, "for I have no doubt at all but that he intended to provoke me to anger and then to run me through the body with that sword of his."
I threw up my arms at such a monstrous suspicion. Aurelia, who had been gazing at me as if she feared for my reason, now looked down.
"Please to let go of my wrist," she said, "you are hurting me, Porfirio.
I know no more than you do why he came out of the cupboard; but of course you do him a wrong. He did not mean anything of the sort--he is of a good heart--incapable of murder. And now, please, Porfirio, let go of my wrist."
But he did not; his rage, gathering in volume, bade fair to convulse him.
"I intend to have the truth from one of the three of you before I let you go," said he. "From you I require to know why you put him into the cupboard."
"It was very silly," said Aurelia, "since he had done no harm. Nonna, why did you put him into the cupboard?"
"Diana!" cried the old woman, "where else was I to put the boy?" The doctor"s laughter was terrible to me. I took a step forward.
"I will tell you, sir, the reason of both your puzzlements," I said. "I was put into the cupboard because Donna Aurelia was rightly ashamed of me, and I came out because I was honestly ashamed of myself."