"I too," was my answer. "But in my poor country the true faith is enmeshed in cold shrouds of unbelief. We dare not have processions, but cry unto God in secret; and no profession is more discredited with us than that of virgin."
"That is a terrible thing you tell me there," says he. "What else is a girl to do if she cannot marry the man of her heart?"
"We have our compensations," I replied; "we worship in the dark, hoping to be rewarded in the full light of heaven. Persecution has braced us; the Church had grown lax. With us, for instance, you would never see religious behave as here they do. Did you observe that nun that looked me full in the face as the procession went by?"
Ercole's eyes flashed; but he said nothing. I went on, "That would be impossible in my country, I can assure you."
"Pardon me," says Ercole; "you misunderstood the lady. It was not at you that she looked."
"Certainly it was not," said Virginia with decision.
"She looked at me," the boy said, "and I looked at her. She knew that I should be here."
"Ho!" said I, and Virginia said, "Gia!"
Ercole then explained. "That lady is Donna Domenica degli Onesti, who was daughter of my master, the Marchese Onesti, when I was dog-keeper to him at Bogazzano. She was always there, being in delicate health, and we loved each other from the first. There was no doubt at all about the matter."
"How could there be any doubt?" said Virginia; but Ercole took no notice of her.
"There was no doubt. She jumped whenever I came round the corner, and used to stand behind trees watching me. Also she used to come to see the dogs fed. Now, when I knew beyond all question the state of her feelings, I borrowed Guido's guitar, and struck one chord upon it at night under her window, and sang but one word--Vieni! In three minutes she came on to the balcony, and we looked at each other. There was a moon, and we could see quite well. We stood looking like that for five minutes without a syllable spoken, and then I went away. I went away before she did; so the thing was clear. After that I called my Vieni every night, and every night she came. Sir, you saw how fine she was, with a face of dawn, and great eyes, and the mournful air of a saint in the sky. There never was such a good love as ours in the world, since the days of Antonio and Cleopatra of blessed memory. It lasted all one summer, but she was turned of sixteen by then, and her father, the marchese, wished her to marry. Naturally I forbade that."
"You!" I cried, and again Virginia nodded and said, "Gia!"
"You may say so," said Ercole. "What else could I do? And naturally also she preferred the convent. I bade her farewell in the garden. She allowed me then to touch her hand. I said, 'Addio, Madonna,' and she, 'Addio, Ercole,' and then I left her standing there. That was five years ago. Since then I have seen her once a year. This is the fifth time."
"And when will the sixth time be?" I asked him.
"Immediately," he said. "When the procession returns."
"But, Ercole, is this tolerable?" I objected. "Is it humane to Donna Domenica?"
Virginia turned upon me here. "To her?" she cried fiercely. "To her? Why, what else could she do? What else should I--should any woman do?" Immediately she had said this, I could see that she wished she had not. She blushed and hung her head.
"It is not too easy," said Ercole, "but it was best under the circumstances. Imagine her in the arms of a man! It is not conceivable. On the other hand, one is not jealous of the Cross; and she knows that I should not come to see her if I had not been faithful."
"And you have spoken--"
"For what do you take me? I have never spoken to her more than once in the garden, or at a less distance than ten braccia--except when I touched her hand. Also I used to say Vieni! and she came; but no more."
"But when she was asked in marriage, and you forbade it?"
"Then she told me herself that she supposed I wished her to take the veil, and I nodded my head."
I was forced to admit his strength of purpose. "You are a great lover, "I said, "that is certain. I am a lover also--but not at all in your way."
Ercole said, "I have only done what any man would do who loved a lady."
"Don Francis would never say Vieni!" said Virginia with a snap, looking up quickly.
"Then the lady would never come," said Ercole.
I was silent, condemning in my heart what my wits could not gainsay.
Ercole saw his Donna Domenica again. She passed with the returning procession, and again looked full and mournful knowledge on her lover. He neither blushed nor saluted her, but met her eyes steadily and did not follow her retreating figure in the hope that she would turn her head. Nor did she turn it. He seemed perfectly cheerful afterwards, and disposed to sleep. He said that he should take another day in Prato, so as to get a little fun of the fair. They had no fairs at San Benedetto in Alpi.
CHAPTER XVIII
FRA PALAMONE BREAKS THE LAW, AND I MY CHAIN
For his second day's campaign, when he set up as a dentist (in spectacles and a fine black beard), Fra Palamone chose me to be arrayed in a loose punchinello suit of red cotton, covered with the signs of the zodiac in tinsel; for, said he, "Mystery is half our battle won beforehand. Hermes Trismegistus himself had not been the philosopher he was if he had been understood, and to this day Aristotle is undervalued, not for saying what he meant, but for saying it all." He gave me a peaked felt hat for my head, and exhorted me to have no fears. "Tooth- drawing," he said, "is as easy as kissing any day. Reflect, Francis, upon this, and let it be your comfort throughout the coming conflict, that there is no jaw-bone in the head of mortal man so strong as his wrist. With your wrist and elbow you can knock a man down; but show me the jaw that will do so much. I will say nothing of Samson, who is not in debate; moreover his weapon was borrowed and his enemies were God's enemies. Now, here is another fact, full of encouragement for you. The stronger a man is in the jaw, the harder he will pull against your forceps. Pray, what chance has a tooth the most rooted against your pull and the patient's? Not the faintest! Out it comes, and there is one poor sufferer the less in Prato. Courage then; pull and pull again." I promised him that I would pull my stoutest, but curtly declined his suggestion that I should try my hand upon Virginia's mouth, although she made no demur. Sooner should Prato swim in blood, I said, than I lay violent hands upon my friend.
And in blood swam Prato that day, and Fra Palamone bathed in it eloquently. He called himself Conqueror of Pain, and piled up his captures like the trophies of a Roman triumph. I can still hear the soul-congealing yell with which he hailed every new token of his prowess, and still see the packed Piazza surge, as it was swept by it like corn in a breeze. "Woe unto you, heathen masticator," he would cry, holding high the forceps and its victim, "Woe unto you when you meet Palamone, Tyrant of Pain! Blessed be the pincers and the fork, which have gained the celestial paradise for Sant' Agnese, and the terrestrial for this worthy man! I tell you, signori," he would say, looking round upon the gaping company, "I would rather be in this man's shoes than in the Grand Duke's, or in those of my blood-brother in God, the Patriarch of Venice. Ha! he will break up larks' bones this night! and where are the sheep's trotters to deny him entry? Where are the walnuts or the peach stones whose kernels are removed from him? Ahi, signori! do you think, if Signor Dives had had so wholesome a mouth he would have left to Lazarus the bones? Not he--but the pith of every one of them had gone to make him sleeker. Avanti, signori, avanti! Let the next in torment come up." He had abundant custom, and seemed never to tire; but my turn came at last, introduced by a string of panegyric which spoke of me as the Nerve-Acrobat, the Lodestone