GADFLY. Oh, a despicable fellow, I assure you, you wouldn’t like him, Signora.
GEMMA. He did his work. He was a doer, not a scribbler and slanderer.
GADFLY. How do you know?
GEMMA. By his deeds. We will not think ill of a proved comrade to amuse you, Signor Rivarez.
GRASSINI. Come, come! Business, business! Whom shall we send?
MARTINI. Whom can we best spare, Signora Bolla?
GADFLY. Me, me, me. There is no doubt about that.
GEMMA. You must win our confidence first. I vote against your being sent.
MARTINI. So do I.
GRASSINI. Excuse me, Rivarez. But really so do I.
GADFLY. You flatter me. I propose, then, as an alternative, that you send the man who convoyed the weapons from Genoa to the caves — the despicable fellow.
GEMMA. I agree, if we can find him.
MARTINI. Agreed!
GRASSINI. Agreed.
GADFLY. Carried nem con. He shall start the day after tomorrow.
Signora Grassini runs from the house and hurries down to them.
SIGNORA GRASSINI. Domenichino is arrested.
They all rise in consternation.
GADFLY. Our man must start tonight. Away with you and warn everybody.
They hurry towards the house.
SIGNORA BOLLA. [She stops — the rest go into the house] You must stay with me to send this man off.
GEMMA. I!
GADFLY. He goes to his death. Is he to have no kinder word at parting than mine?
GEMMA. Is he a sentimentalist, then?
GADFLY. Yes, a grovelling sentimentalist.
GEMMA. What is his name?
GADFLY. Arthur.
GEMMA. Arthur!
GADFLY. An English name.
GEMMA. I know. I once knew someone of that name.
GADFLY. Indeed?
GEMMA. Do you know anything of his history?
GADFLY. Nothing that would amuse you. The poor wretch has been kicked about the world, mostly in South America — beaten and maimed, shot and chased, half drowned, drudged and degraded and devil knows what — even slapped across the face.
GEMMA. What do you mean by that?
GADFLY. Nothing, my dear lady, nothing. He has left it all behind now, and wants to hear nothing more of it.
GEMMA. I want to see this man. What is his other name? Where is he to be found?
GADFLY. Oh, he has lots of other names — Rivarez, the Gadfly — plenty of them. [The Angelus rings] Sh! Listen! That’s his death knell. [He takes out the castanets and marks the bolero rhythm softly with them, mocking the bell]
GEMMA. Stop clacking those horrible things. Do you mean that you are — gadfly. The man that convoyed the arms from Genoa to the caves? Precisely. And I am nobody else.
And I shall soon be nobody at all. So bid me adieu, beautiful widow of Bolla the Betrayed.
GEMMA. Adieu. But remember, the revolution wants men who intend to live for it and not to die for it.
GADFLY [seriously] I shall do my best with what is left of me.
GEMMA. If you are taken at Brisighella, appeal to Montanelli. He is merciful.
GADFLY. The more fool he!
GEMMA. We will do all we can ourselves.
GADFLY. Oh, look after the revolution, not after me. When the rush comes there will be no time to stop to pick me up. Besides, I have had all I wanted now. It was not much — only a fancy to see somebody again.
And I hate this cursed world, with its infamous cruelties and tyrannies, its slaves and cowards, holding each other down for priests and kings to devour. [relapsing into his flippant tone] Ah! excuse my talking shop.
GEMMA. It becomes you better than the other sort of talk. Goodbye. And remember, Montanelli once knew an Arthur whom he loved like his own son.
GADFLY [implacably] And whose mother he probably betrayed.
GEMMA. Do you never forgive old injuries?
GADFLY. Only when I have deserved them. I kiss the hands I have betrayed [he kisses her hand suddenly and lightly] — not the hands that betrayed me. And now off to Brisighella where I will test my disguise by confessing myself with all speed to Montanelli — to Father Montanelli. Goodbye, Gemma.
He embraces her and then hurries away up the steps.
As he reaches the terrace, Zita is heard singing within.
He stops and looks quaintly back at Gemma; then goes off accompanying the song with the castanets.
ACT II.
The steps of the Cathedral at Brisighella. Sunset. The Gadfly, disguised in ragged white locks as an old Spanish pilgrim, is sitting on the steps. The square in front of the Cathedral is crowded with peasants and pilgrims. Michele, disguised as a hawker of rosaries, medals, pious chap-books and tapers, approaches the Gadfly and sets down his basket before him.
MICHELE. Are you one of the pilgrims, Father?
GADFLY [loudly] I am a miserable sinner. [privately] Well, where do we meet?
MICHELE. In the market-place in front of the Cardinal’s Palace.
GADFLY. Oh! he manages to live in a Palace, then, in spite of being a saint.
MICHELE. He lives in one wing of it and has turned the rest into a hospital. He is inside there now [pointing to the Cathedral].
The Cathedral doors open and the organ is heard.
THE CROWD. His Eminence — His Eminence is coming out. Stand aside, His Eminence is coming.
MICHELE. Pray for me when you get to Rome, Father.
He gets out of the way.
The Cardinal appears at the Cathedral doors in his violet Lenten robe and scarlet cap, blessing the people with outstretched arms. He comes slowly down the steps.
The people crowd about him to kiss his hands. Some kneel down and put the hem of his cassock to their lips.
The Gadfly sits motionless with his teeth clenched and his eyes on the ground.
MONTANELLI. Peace be with you, my children.
A WOMAN [lifting her child] His Eminence will bless you as the dear Lord blessed the children.
The Gadfly groans.
MONTANELLI. Are you a pilgrim? gadfly lama miserable sinner.
POLICE OFFICIAL [stepping forward] Forgive my intruding, your Eminence. I think the old man is not quite sound in his mind. He is perfectly harmless, and his papers are in order; so we don’t interfere with him. He has been in penal servitude for a great crime, and is now doing penance.
GADFLY [shaking his head slowly] A great crime.
MONTANELLI. Thank you, Captain, [to the people] Stand aside a little, please, [to the Gadfly] My friend, nothing is hopeless if a man has sincerely repented. Will you not come to me this evening?
GADFLY. Would your Eminence receive a man who is answerable for the death of his own son?