Lucrezia Floriani, page 21
“Hurry,” said the prince to Biffi. “If you haven’t the time to intertwine the branches in the fence to-night, at least let your stakes be fixed so that strollers may respect this indication.”
“I will do everything Your Excellency wishes,” Biffi replied with his sly humility. “But don’t worry, there are no bandits in these parts and none has ever entered this way.”
“Keep on all the same; hurry,” said the prince, a prey to a consuming and completely morbid anxiety. And he rolled a gold coin in his hand to show Biffi that he would be handsomely rewarded.
“Your Excellency is going to lose that fine sequin,” said the cunning peasant as he cast a covetous glance at the trembling careless hand of Karol.
“Master Biffi,” replied the prince, “I know the custom. I have trespassed on your services. I owe you a tip. It is all ready for when you have finished.”
“Your Excellency is too kind!” cried Biffi, suddenly electrified. “Of course he is a real prince,” he thought “I see it now, but I won’t tell old Menapace. He would only keep my sequin for me, to prevent me, as he would say, from spending it to a bad purpose.” And he began to work with speed and athletic vigour, fully determined, if the fisherman came and interrupted him, to tell him coolly that he was acting on the direct orders of the signora.
All the posts were driven in when the persistent individual whose approach brought a cold sweat to the prince’s brow, arrived at this boundary line and stopped, with arms folded across his breast, his eyes staring ahead in the direction of the expanse of the beach, and yet without apparently paying any attention to the prince or Biffi.
This preoccupation was odd, to say the least of it, for he was only separated from them by a few stakes. Yet he did not seem to think of crossing this recently made boundary. He was a young man of medium height and fairly elegant, but not very tasteful dress. His face was remarkably handsome, but his stare and distracted manner indicated some kind of madman or at least a crank, unless this was the kind of impression he deliberately wished to make.
At first the prince, shocked by his audacity, was beginning to think that the man did not really know where he was nor where he meant to go, when the stranger, addressing Biffi, said in a booming voice: “My friend, isn’t that the Villa Floriani?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the young man without interrupting his work.
The prince flashed the stranger the look of a lion defending his prey. The stranger cast him a mildly curious glance and without worrying in the slightest at the expression on his distraught face he began to gaze once more at the beach behind Karol’s back.
Karol turned quickly, thinking that Lucrezia might be coming from that direction and that it was her approach which was fascinating the traveller in this way, but all that was to be seen on the beach was the children and their maid.
At that moment Stella was coming out of the boat and, lifting her little brother in her arms, she was saying: “Come along, Salvator, let me help you or you will fall into the water.”
At the idea that the child might fall into the water before the maid had joined them Karol, whose sad spirit always anticipated some disaster, forgot the stranger and ran towards the boat to help Stella; but the two children were already safe on the sand and Karol, hearing footsteps close behind him, turned round and saw the stranger there.
Without ado he had crossed the fatal line and without deigning to look at the prince he passed him, leaped towards the children and picked little Salvator up in his arms as if meaning to carry him off.
In a spontaneous movement Karol and Antonia rushed upon the stranger. Karol seized him by the arm with a strength increased tenfold by indignation, and Biffi, armed with his billhook, came nearer, with a view to offering assistance against the stranger if the need arose.
The latter only replied with a scornful smile. But Stella was the only one who did not show any sign of fear.
“You are all mad,” she exclaimed, laughing. “I know this gentleman well. He doesn’t mean any harm to Salvator for he loves him very much. I am going to tell Mama that you are here,” she added, addressing the stranger.
“No, my child,” replied the latter, “there’s no need at all. Salvator does not recognise me and I have frightened everybody here. They think I want to carry him off Here,” he added, returning her the child, “don’t trouble. I only want one thing, and that is to look at you both a little longer, then I’ll go.”
“Mama won’t let you go without saying good-day to you,” the little girl went on.
“No, no. I have no time to stop,” said the stranger, visibly moved. “Give your mother my kind regards. Is she well?”
“Very well. She is in the house. Hasn’t Salvator grown tall?”
“Yes, and beautiful,” said the stranger. “He is an angel. Ah! if he would just let me kiss him! But he is afraid of me and I don’t want to make him cry.”
“Salvator,” said the little girl, “give the gentleman a kiss. He is a good friend and you have forgotten him. Come, put your arms round his neck. You shall have a sweet and I’ll tell Mama that you have been good.”
The child agreed and after kissing the stranger he asked for his shells and pebbles again and returned to his playing on the sand.
The stranger was now leaning against the boat. With eyes full of tears he was still looking at the child. The prince, the maid and Biffi who were watching him closely seemed invisible to him.
However, after a few moments, he seemed to become aware of their presence and he smiled at the anxiety which was visible on their faces. Karol’s look drew his attention particularly and he made a movement as if to approach him.
“Sir,” said he, “it is Prince de Roswald whom I have the honour of addressing, isn’t it?”
And when the prince nodded he added: “You give orders here, whereas all I probably know of this house is the children and their mother. Have the goodness to tell these worthy people,” and he looked at the servants, “to step aside so that I may have the honour of saying a few words to you.”
“Sir,” said the prince, taking him a few yards apart, “it seems simpler for us to move away, for I do not give orders here, as you assume, and I have only the rights of a friend. But they are sufficient for me to regard it as a duty to draw your attention to a certain matter. You did not enter here in a proper manner and you cannot remain here any longer without the permission of the mistress of the house. You have crossed a fence – incomplete, it is true – but which propriety ordered you to respect. Be good enough to withdraw the way you came and present yourself with your name to the park gate. If Signora Floriani thinks fit to receive you, you will no longer run the risk of meeting people there disposed to make you leave.”
“Drop the part you are playing, sir,” replied the stranger haughtily, “it is ridiculous.” And seeing the prince’s eyes glitter, he added in a mocking, yet gentle voice: “This role would be unworthy of a man as magnanimous as you, if you knew who I am. Listen to me and I will convince you.”
23.
“My name,” continued the stranger, lowering his voice, “is Onorio Vandoni and I am the father of that beautiful child whose guardian you will be appointed as from now. But you haven’t the right to prevent me from kissing my own son. It would be useless for you to claim this right, for if persuasion were not enough I would refuse it by force. You probably believe that when Signora Floriani thought she must break the bonds which united us it would have been easy for me to claim or at least contest the possession of my child But God forbid that I should wish to deprive him at so tender an age of the caress of a woman whose maternal devotion is beyond comparison. I submitted silently to the verdict which separated me from him, I consulted only his interests and his happiness. But do not think that I agreed ever to lose sight of him. From afar as from near I have always watched over him and I shall always do so. As long as he lives with his mother I know he will be happy. But if he lost her or if some unforeseen circumstance required the signora to separate from him, I would reappear with the zeal and authority of my role as a father. We are not at that stage yet. I know what is happening here. A combination of chance and a little shrewdness on my part told me that you were the fortunate lover of Lucrezia. I pity you for your happiness, sir! For she is not a woman whom one can love by halves and for whose loss one can console oneself. But that is not the point. It is only the child that matters. I know that I have no right to speak about the mother. I have therefore made certain about your feelings towards the child, the gentleness and dignity of your character. I know … and this is going to surprise you, for you think your secrets well kept in this retreat which you guard jealously and which you were in the process of fencing off when I dared to stride over your fortifications. Well, know that there is no family secret which escapes the eye of servants! I know that you wish to marry Lucrezia Floriani and that Lucrezia Floriani has not yet accepted your devotion. I know that you would have gladly served as a father to her children. I thank you for it on my account, but I would have freed you of this trouble as far as my son is concerned, and if the signora happens to allow herself to be persuaded by your entreaties you can always count on three children, not four.
“What I am telling you now, sir, is not to be repeated to Lucrezia. It would sound like a threat on my part, a cowardly attempt to oppose the success of your enterprise. But if I avoid the sight of her, if I do not go and seek the painful and dangerous pleasure of seeing her, I do not wish you to be mistaken about the motives of my prudence. On the contrary, it is good for you to know them. You see that in spite of your entrenchments it was very easy for me to penetrate here, see my son and even carry him off If I had come with such a resolution I would have made use of more audacity or more skill I did not expect to have the pleasure of conversing with you when I approached this house and allowing myself to be fascinated by the sight of my child whom I recognised … ah, almost a league away and when he only appeared to me as a black speck on the beach! Dear child! I shall not say: Poor child! He is happy, he is loved! But as I go away I say to myself Poor father! Why couldn’t you be loved too? Farewell, sir! I am delighted to have made your acquaintance and I leave to you the decision to relate this strange interview as you think fit. I did not provoke it, I do not regret it. I feel no hatred for you. I like to believe that you deserve your happiness more than I deserved my misfortune. Fate is a fickle woman whom one curses at times, but whom one always invokes.”
Vandoni went on speaking for some time with more facility than coherence and with more frankness than warmth. Yet when he had embraced his son for the last time in silence, he appeared deeply moved.
But immediately afterwards he took leave of the prince with the obsequious mocking self-assurance of the actor and he went on, without turning round, as far as the fence where Biffi had begun to work again. There he stopped once more for quite a long time to look at the child, then at last he waved a final farewell to the prince and set off once more.
Apart from the feeling of annoyance and the intolerable unpleasantness of such an encounter, the face, voice, figure and speech of this man, although indicating natural kindness and loyalty, aroused in Karol nothing but definite antipathy. Vandoni was handsome, fairly well educated and unfailingly honest. But everything about him smacked of the theatre, and it required Lucrezia’s habit of frequenting actors even more affected and more bombastic for her never to have noticed what shocked the prince so much at first sight, namely the affectation of solemnity which betrayed study at every step and every word. Vandoni was a mixture of bombast and naivety rather difficult to define. Nature had made him what he wished to appear, but as happens with second rate artists, art had become second nature to him. He was sincerely generous and sensitive, but he could no longer be satisfied with being so in fact; he required to say so and to confide his feelings in the same way as he recited a monologue on the stage. Whereas great actors carry their souls into their parts, those who only have mediocre inspiration transfer their parts into their private life and act it, unconsciously, at all moments of the day.
Because of this weakness poor Vandoni appeared less serious than his feelings and he deprived his words of the importance they would have had in themselves if he had not delivered them with excessively deliberate care.
Whereas Madame Floriani’s correct inflections and clear pronunciation came from herself and from her alone, the clear pronunciation and correct inflections of Vandoni smacked of the elocution class. It was the same with his walk, his gestures and his facial expression: all told of hours before the mirror. True, practice had become part of his being and his blood, and he could say extempore what once he had made it his painful study to say well. But the first model of his speech and attitude always reappeared and whereas good taste in conversation consists in toning down the form in order to lend more force to the content, his good taste consisted of emphasising everything and leaving nothing in shadow.
Thus in speaking of his paternal love there was too much play of emotion; in asserting his love as a father and speaking nobly of his rival he overposed as the hero of a drama; in wishing to appear reconciled to the faithlessness of his mistress he overplayed his part and almost assumed the appearance of a roue, which was far beyond his natural audacity. Add to all this a secret embarrassment of which mediocre artists least rid themselves when they are striving for ease and you will understand that vague smile which Karol took for the height of impertinence, that occasionally blurred look which he attributed to the stupefaction of debauchery, and finally those smooth gestures which made Karol’s fingers itch to box his ears.
Yet the personal impression of the prince in contact with the actor was entirely relative. The faults of both men were so opposite that in seeing them together it would have been necessary to condemn in turn two characters which one would have accepted separately. Karol sinned through excess of reserve and because he hated everything which, in form, could be accused of the slightest exaggeration; he had at times an icy, ungracious inflexibility. Vandoni on the other hand did not wish to pass anyone without leaving behind a certain opinion of his merit His eyes did not try, as did the prince’s, to avoid the insult of an inquisitive look; they sought out this look and questioned it to judge of the effect produced. When the effect seemed to have failed he became obstinate and tried to find a better one; but as he did not possess the readiness of mind of the great actor, the great lawyer and the great conversationalist, which enables them to create the occasion to display and develop themselves, he often failed to produce his effect.
Yet he was nothing like what the prince would have him be, to judge from his manner and behaviour. He was neither narrow-minded, nor boastful, nor debauched, nor insolent His was rather a nature which was kindly, although rather self-centred, sincere yet vain, temperate and mild although inclined on ocasion to pride itself on being the exact opposite. He had had the misfortune of always aspiring to more fame than he was capable of His passion was to play leading parts, but he had never achieved this. So, wishing to make the best of the small parts which were entrusted to him he had played too intensely the role of noble father, druid, confidant or captain of the guard It is a great mistake to wish to draw too much attention to the parts of a play to which the author has given a secondary place. And so it happened that if there was a weak spot or even a platitude in his part, Vandoni emphasised it pitilessly and then wondered why the dramatist had been hissed when he himself had tried so hard and had given of his best.
Moreover he was small and wanted to appear tall. He had one of those beautiful basso profundo voices which cannot vary their inflexions and which nature has condemned to a monotonous sonority. He took an empty pride in having a more beautiful timbre than such and such a famous actor and did not tell himself that a harsh voice used with talent is more sympathetic and more effective than a powerful instrument handled crudely. Poor Vandoni! He went off convinced that he had used much delicacy, restraint and dignity in putting in its place the jealous pride of young Prince de Roswald. And Prince de Roswald shrugged his shoulders as he saw him go, wondering with profound sorrow how Lucrezia had been able to endure even for a single day the intimacy of so ridiculous and mediocre a man.
Alas! Karol was not at the end of his sufferings as far as Vandoni was concerned, for the latter was retiring, not fully satisfied with the dramatic effect he was making. He regretted that he had not met Lucrezia, in order to show her the philosophical detachment or the magnanimous pride which he had been unable to feign at the moment of their rupture. He regretted that he had left this strong woman with the impression that he was not as strong as she and he wished to wipe out the memory of the naïvety and weakness of his tears and anger by some scene of false nobility and generosity which he considered more elevated in style.
So, as he walked further away more and more slowly, fully aware that one must always lend a helping hand to chance, the most obvious form that chance could take now came to his aid: he was still in sight when Lucrezia came down to the beach.
And what was she doing on this beach, when she should have been in her boudoir still talking to Count Albani? The fact is that she had finished talking, she had triumphed over Salvator’s resistance, and she was on her way to say to the prince: “You have won. I love you too much to persist in making you suffer. Be my husband. I am exposing my maternal love to harsh conflicts, I am defying the future, I am silencing the voice of my conscience, but I will incur damnation for you if. I must”
