albert savarus-第7章

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pretensions；　used　the　cook's　name　as　a　screen　to　net　the　little
profits　of　this　bargain。　The　Bergmanns　had　made　beautiful　gardens
round　their　house；　and　had　built　a　hothouse。　The　flowers；　the　fruit；
and　the　botanical　rarities　of　this　spot　were　what　had　induced　the
young　lady　to　settle　on　it　as　she　passed　through　Gersau。　Miss　Fanny
was　said　to　be　nineteen　years　old；　she　was　the　old　man's　youngest
child；　and　the　object　of　his　adulation。　About　two　months　ago　she　had
hired　a　piano　from　Lucerne；　for　she　seemed　to　be　crazy　about　music。

〃She　loves　flowers　and　music；　and　she　is　unmarried！〃　thought　Rodolphe；
〃what　good　luck！〃

The　next　day　Rodolphe　went　to　ask　leave　to　visit　the　hothouses　and
gardens；　which　were　beginning　to　be　somewhat　famous。　The　permission
was　not　immediately　granted。　The　retired　gardeners　asked；　strangely
enough；　to　see　Rodolphe's　passport；　it　was　sent　to　them　at　once。　The
paper　was　not　returned　to　him　till　next　morning；　by　the　hands　of　the
cook；　who　expressed　her　master's　pleasure　in　showing　him　their　place。
Rodolphe　went　to　the　Bergmanns'；　not　without　a　certain　trepidation；
known　only　to　persons　of　strong　feelings；　who　go　through　as　much
passion　in　a　moment　as　some　men　experience　in　a　whole　lifetime。

After　dressing　himself　carefully　to　gratify　the　old　gardeners　of　the
Borromean　Islands；　whom　he　regarded　as　the　warders　of　his　treasure；　he
went　all　over　the　grounds；　looking　at　the　house　now　and　again；　but
with　much　caution；　the　old　couple　treated　him　with　evident　distrust。
But　his　attention　was　soon　attracted　by　the　little　English　deaf…mute；
in　whom　his　discernment；　though　young　as　yet；　enabled　him　to　recognize
a　girl　of　African；　or　at　least　of　Sicilian；　origin。　The　child　had　the
golden…brown　color　of　a　Havana　cigar；　eyes　of　fire；　Armenian　eyelids
with　lashes　of　very　un…British　length；　hair　blacker　than　black；　and
under　this　almost　olive　skin；　sinews　of　extraordinary　strength　and
feverish　alertness。　She　looked　at　Rodolphe　with　amazing　curiosity　and
effrontery；　watching　his　every　movement。

〃To　whom　does　that　little　Moresco　belong？〃　he　asked　worthy　Madame
Bergmann。

〃To　the　English；〃　Monsieur　Bergmann　replied。

〃But　she　never　was　born　in　England！〃

〃They　may　have　brought　her　from　the　Indies；〃　said　Madame　Bergmann。

〃I　have　been　told　that　Miss　Lovelace　is　fond　of　music。　I　should　be
delighted　if；　during　my　residence　by　the　lake　to　which　I　am　condemned
by　my　doctor's　orders；　she　would　allow　me　to　join　her。〃

〃They　receive　no　one；　and　will　not　see　anybody；〃　said　the　old
gardener。

Rodolphe　bit　his　lips　and　went　away；　without　having　been　invited　into
the　house；　or　taken　into　the　part　of　the　garden　that　lay　between　the
front　of　the　house　and　the　shore　of　the　little　promontory。　On　that
side　the　house　had　a　balcony　above　the　first　floor；　made　of　wood；　and
covered　by　the　roof；　which　projected　deeply　like　the　roof　of　a　chalet
on　all　four　sides　of　the　building；　in　the　Swiss　fashion。　Rodolphe　had
loudly　praised　the　elegance　of　this　arrangement；　and　talked　of　the
view　from　that　balcony；　but　all　in　vain。　When　he　had　taken　leave　of
the　Bergmanns　it　struck　him　that　he　was　a　simpleton；　like　any　man　of
spirit　and　imagination　disappointed　of　the　results　of　a　plan　which　he
had　believed　would　succeed。

In　the　evening　he；　of　course；　went　out　in　a　boat　on　the　lake；　round
and　about　the　spit　of　land；　to　Brunnen　and　to　Schwytz；　and　came　in　at
nightfall。　From　afar　he　saw　the　window　open　and　brightly　lighted；　he
heard　the　sound　of　a　piano　and　the　tones　of　an　exquisite　voice。　He
made　the　boatman　stop；　and　gave　himself　up　to　the　pleasure　of
listening　to　an　Italian　air　delightfully　sung。　When　the　singing
ceased；　Rodolphe　landed　and　sent　away　the　boat　and　rowers。　At　the　cost
of　wetting　his　feet；　he　went　to　sit　down　under　the　water…worn　granite
shelf　crowned　by　a　thick　hedge　of　thorny　acacia；　by　the　side　of　which
ran　a　long　lime　avenue　in　the　Bergmanns'　garden。　By　the　end　of　an　hour
he　heard　steps　and　voices　just　above　him；　but　the　words　that　reached
his　ears　were　all　Italian；　and　spoken　by　two　women。

He　took　advantage　of　the　moment　when　the　two　speakers　were　at　one　end
of　the　walk　to　slip　noiselessly　to　the　other。　After　half　an　hour　of
struggling　he　got　to　the　end　of　the　avenue；　and　there　took　up　a
position　whence；　without　being　seen　or　heard；　he　could　watch　the　two
women　without　being　observed　by　them　as　they　came　towards　him。　What
was　Rodolphe's　amazement　on　recognizing　the　deaf…mute　as　one　of　them；
she　was　talking　to　Miss　Lovelace　in　Italian。

It　was　now　eleven　o'clock　at　night。　The　stillness　was　so　perfect　on
the　lake　and　around　the　dwelling；　that　the　two　women　must　have　thought
themselves　safe；　in　all　Gersau　there　could　be　no　eyes　open　but　theirs。
Rodolphe　supposed　that　the　girl's　dumbness　must　be　a　necessary
deception。　From　the　way　in　which　they　both　spoke　Italian；　Rodolphe
suspected　that　it　was　the　mother　tongue　of　both　girls；　and　concluded
that　the　name　of　English　also　hid　some　disguise。

〃They　are　Italian　refugees；〃　said　he　to　himself；　〃outlaws　in　fear　of
the　Austrian　or　Sardinian　police。　The　young　lady　waits　till　it　is　dark
to　walk　and　talk　in　security。〃

He　lay　down　by　the　side　of　the　hedge；　and　crawled　like　a　snake　to　find
a　way　between　two　acacia　shrubs。　At　the　risk　of　leaving　his　coat
behind　him；　or　tearing　deep　scratches　in　his　back；　he　got　through　the
hedge　when　the　so…called　Miss　Fanny　and　her　pretended　deaf…and…dumb
maid　were　at　the　other　end　of　the　path；　then；　when　they　had　come
within　twenty　yards　of　him　without　seeing　him；　for　he　was　in　the
shadow　of　the　hedge；　and　the　moon　was　shining　brightly；　he　suddenly
rose。

〃Fear　nothing；〃　said　he　in　French　to　the　Italian　girl；　〃I　am　not　a
spy。　You　are　refugees；　I　have　guessed　that。　I　am　a　Frenchman　whom　one
look　from　you　has　fixed　at　Gersau。〃

Rodolphe；　startled　by　the　acute　pain　caused　by　some　steel　instrument
piercing　his　side；　fell　like　a　log。

〃/Nel　lago　con　pietra/！〃　said　the　terrible　dumb　girl。

〃Oh；　Gina！〃　exclaimed　the　Italian。

〃She　has　missed　me；〃　said　Rodolphe；　pulling　from　his　wound　a　stiletto；
which　had　been　turned　by　one　of　the　false　ribs。　〃But　a　little　higher
up　it　would　have　been　deep　in　my　heart。I　was　wrong；　Francesca；〃　he
went　on；　remembering　the　name　he　had　heard　little　Gina　repeat　several
times；　〃I　owe　her　no　grudge；　do　not　scold　her。　The　happiness　of
speaking　to　you　is　well　worth　the　prick　of　a　stiletto。　Only　show　me
the　way　out；　I　must　get　back　to　the　Stopfer's　house。　Be　easy；　I　shall
tell　nothing。〃

Francesca；　recovering　from　her　astonishment；　helped　Rodolphe　to　rise；
and　said　a　few　words　to　Gina；　whose　eyes　filled　with　tears。　The　two
girls　made　him　sit　down　on　a　bench　and　take　off　his　coat；　his
waistcoat　and　cravat。　Then　Gina　opened　his　shirt　and　sucked　the　wound
strongly。　Francesca；　who　had　left　them；　returned　with　a　large　piece　of
sticking…plaster；　which　she　applied　to　the　wound。

〃You　can　now　walk　as　far　as　your　house；〃　she　said。

Each　took　an　arm；　and　Rodolphe　was　conducted　to　a　side　gate；　of　which
the　key　was　in　Francesca's　apron　pocket。

〃Does　Gina　speak　French？〃　said　Rodolphe　to　Francesca。

〃No。　But　do　not　excite　yourself；〃　replied　Francesca　with　some
impatience。

〃Let　me　look　at　you；〃　said　Rodolphe　pathetically；　〃for　it　may　be　long
before　I　am　able　to　come　again…〃

He　leaned　against　one　of　the　gate…posts　contemplating　the　beautiful
Italian；　who　allowed　him　to　gaze　at　her　for　a　moment　under　the
sweetest　silence　and　the　sweetest　night　which　ever；　perhaps；　shone　on
this　lake；　the　king　of　Swiss　lakes。

Francesca　was　quite　of　the　Italian　type；　and　such　as　imagination
supposes　or　pictures；　or；　if　you　will；　dreams；　that　Italian　women　are。
What　first　struck　Rodolphe　was　the　grace　and　elegance　of　a　figure
evidently　powerful；　though　so　slender　as　to　appear　fragile。　An　amber
paleness　overspread　her　face；　betraying　sudden　interest；　but　it　did
not　dim　the　voluptuous　glance　of　her　liquid　eyes　of　velvety　blackness。
A　pair　of　hands　as　beautiful　as　ever　a　Greek　sculptor　added　to　the
polished　arms　of　a　statue　grasped　Rodolphe's　arm；　and　their　whiteness
gleamed　against　his　black　coat。　The　rash　Frenchman　could　but　just
discern　the　long；　oval　shape　of　her　face；　and　a　melancholy　mouth
showing　brilliant　teeth　between　the　parted　lips；　full；　fresh；　and
brightly　red。　The　exquisite　lines　of　this　face　guaranteed　to　Francesca
permanent　beauty；　but　what　most　struck　Rodolphe　was　the　adorable
freedom；　the　Italian　frankness　of　this　woman；　wholly　absorbed　as　she
was　in　her　pity　for　him。

Francesca　said　a　word　to　Gina；　who　gave　Rodolphe　her　arm　as　far　as　the
Stopfers'　door；　and　fled　like　a　swallow　as　soon　as　she　had　rung。

〃These　patriots　do　not　play　at　killing！〃　said　Rodolphe　to　himself　as
he　felt　his　sufferings　when　he　found　himself　in　his　bed。　〃　'/Nel
lago！'　Gina　would　have　pitched　me　into　the　lake　with　a　stone　tied　to
my　neck。〃

Next　day　he　sent　to　Lucerne　for　the　best　surgeon　there；　and　when　he
came；　enjoined　on　him　absolute　secrecy；　giving　him　to　understand　that
his　honor　depended　on　it。

Leopold　returned　from　his　excursion　on　the　day　when　his　friend　first
got　out　of　bed。　Rodolphe　made　up　a　story；　and　begged　him　to　go　to
Lucerne　to　fetch　their　luggage　and　letters。　Leopold　brought　back　the
most　fatal；　the　most　dreadful　news：　Rodolphe's　mother　was　dead。　While
the　two　friends　were　on　their　way　from　Bale　to　Lucerne；　the　fatal
letter；　written　by　Leopold's　father；　had　reached　Lucerne　the　day　they
left　for　Fluelen。

In　spite　of　Leopold's　utmost　precautions；　Rodolphe　fell　ill　of　a
nervous　fever。　As　soon　as　Leopold　saw　his　friend　out　of　danger；　he　set
out　for　France　with　a　power　of　attorney；　and　Rodolphe　could　thus
remain　at　Gersau；　the　only　place　in　the　world　where　his　grief　could
grow　calmer。　The　young　Frenchman's　position；　his　despair；　the
circumstances　which　made　such　a　loss　worse　for　him　than　for　any　other
man；　were　known；　and　secured　him　the　pity　and　interest　of　every　one　in
Gersau。　Every　morning　the　pretended　dumb　girl　came　to　see　him　and
bring　him　news　of　her　mistress。

As　soon　as　Rodolphe　could　go　out　he　went　to　the　Bergmanns'　house；　to
thank　Miss　Fanny　Lovelace　and　her　father　for　the　interest　they　had
taken　in　his　sorrow　and　his　illness。　For　the　first　time　since　he　had
lodged　with　the　Bergmanns　the　old　Italian　admitted　a　stranger　to　his
room；　where　Rodolphe　was　received　with　the　cordiality　due　to　his
misfortunes　and　to　his　being　a　Frenchman；　which　excluded　all　distrust
of　him。　Francesca　looked　so　lovely　by　candle…light　that　first　evening
that　she　shed　a　ray　of　brightness　on　his　grieving　heart。　Her　smiles
flung　the　roses　of　hope　on　his　woe。　She　sang；　not　indeed　gay　songs；
but　grave　and　solemn　melodies　suited　to　the　state　of　Rodolphe's　heart；
and　he　observed　this　touching　care。

At　about　eight　o'clock　the　old　man　left　the　young　people　without　any
sign　of　uneasiness；　and　went　to　his　room。　When　Francesca　was　tired　of
singing；　she　led　Rodolphe　on　to　the　balcony；　whence　they　perceived　the
sublime　scenery　of　the　lake；　and　signed　to　him　to　be　seated　by　her　on
a　rustic　wooden　bench。

〃Am　I　very　indiscreet　in　asking　how　old　you　are；　cara　Francesca？〃　said
Rodolphe。

〃Nineteen；〃　said　she；　〃well　pa