The Viceroys (39 page)

‘Talk clearly, can't you! Are you against this marriage?'

‘Me?… If Your Excellency approves?'

‘Don't you like Giulente?'

‘Must I like him?… He's a decent young man; it's enough to know him to be Your Excellency's friend … Not badly off, either … I haven't Aunt Ferdinanda's and Don Blasco's prejudices, times have changed … Your Excellency must know that if Lucrezia thinks she can be happy with him, I will not oppose it … But it's only right that she should not seek a quarrel with me either!'

‘Why ever should she do that?'

‘Why?… Why?… Your Excellency knows nothing of it all, being in Palermo at that time!…' And then he told of the pain caused him by his sister plotting with Chiara and the marchese and Ferdinando, by laying claims and interpreting the law in her own way, even accusing him of wanting to despoil her and all the others. ‘Now if she marries, she must put an end to all that once and for ever … Otherwise your Excellency will see that they will begin all over again!'

‘No, sir,' replied the duke firmly, ‘the marriage will take place, but I guarantee that you will not be molested.'

Father Camillo had already talked in the same vein to the girl. He began by telling her that the union was opposed by the entire family not because they expected her to remain a spinster—not at all!—but because it was not a suitable match. Birth was certainly a matter of some importance; not so much for its own sake, as because of the upbringing, the moral and religious principles involved.

Giulente might well be an excellent young man—he did not wish to defame without knowing him—but he professed dangerous doctrines and sided with the enemies of social order, legitimate power, and Holy Church; and he did so not only in words but in action too. And would an Uzeda, ‘descendant of Blessed Ximena, daughter of a Prince of Francalanza,' marry such a man as that? What basis of understanding could they have? Could love and accord reign between them? And then apart from that could Giulente, though prosperous, maintain her in the style to
which she had been accustomed? Had he any notion of noble habits?

Thus the family was not opposed from caprice but for grave and valid reasons. But, said he, she herself must be the best judge of all that; maybe she felt herself animated with love enough to cope with the material disadvantages of such an existence and hope enough to convert the young man too. Most praiseworthy and admirable; but the chief and only question really was that without the approval, acceptance, blessing of those representing her late lamented father and mother, she could have no hope of prosperity and peace.

So far Lucrezia had not said a syllable.

When the confessor was silent she said, ‘What must I do to have their permission to marry him? Let them say what it is; I will do whatever they like.'

‘I was sure of that!' exclaimed the Dominican in a tone of joyful triumph, ‘I was sure that a good girl like you would give no other reply. And the prince, who loves you, will support you! Agree, and always keep together; such is your mutual interest and the joy of those looking down on you from above.'

And so when the duke, who had not yet mentioned Giulente's request to his niece, told her of it and said at the same time that Giacomo, before giving a reply, wanted to come to a settlement with her, Lucrezia declared herself ready. The prince, who had been holding many a confabulation with Signor Marco and spent days shut up in his study, now asked, in his brother the co-heir's name too, that this settlement be based on the division made by his mother, demonstrating the justice of this with great heaps of documents and figures; these also showed that their father's part had never existed outside the imagination of their uncle Don Blasco. There were, though, the I.O.U.'s that he had paid; his sister must pay her proportionate part in these.

When all this was settled not more than 8,000
onze
would be due to her. Lucrezia accepted this sum. Her mother's Will laid down that the prince should pay her five per cent interest; but then in the five years since their mother's death had he not maintained his sister entirely, providing her with home, food, service, clothes, use of carriage, etc. etc.? Was he to sustain all these expenses himself? Had his sister been in need,
he would of course have kept her in his home from affection for her and because she was of the same blood. But she had her own money; so it was not right for her brother to keep her for five years nor could she herself allow it. When the accounts were gone over again it was found that the interest of the 8,000
onze
represented exactly the expenses of maintenance; so all that was due to her was the capital. Again Lucrezia said yes. So everything seemed arranged; but at the last moment the prince put up a new condition to his uncle the duke:

‘I wish to regulate the situation of the other legatees also. Either they are all right or they are all wrong; does that not seem logical and just to Your Excellency? As we have to make out a legal document, let us get it all over and done in one. Why does Your Excellency not talk to the others and get them to agree?'

Chiara and the marchese did not have the same reasons for bowing their heads to the prince's conditions, but it was a propitious moment to try to induce those to the transaction too, as they lived only in expectation of their child and their joy at the imminent event was such that it must dispose them to pass over all other interests. And so when the duke told them that Lucrezia was to marry and had come to a settlement, they approved, considering only that to keep the interest back as compensation for maintenance did the prince little honour. But if she was happy about that then they all were.

‘And now you too must settle things up!…' added the duke, in a tone of affectionate insistence allowed him not so much in his position as uncle as from having accepted the holding of the new-born child at the font.

The marchese exchanged glances with his wife and replied:

‘If Your Excellency so wishes …'

‘Chiara's account is of course the same as Lucrezia's but there is no question about the interest with her and Giacomo will pay it to the last.'

‘I took my dear Chiara for the love I bear her and not for money …' and bowing over his wife, Federico kissed her on the forehead.

‘But what about my uncle the Canon's legacy? And the
dowry?' she reminded him, to prevent her generous husband being swindled.

‘Giacomo does not intend to recognise them, and I do not know if he is right or wrong … But anyway this must be settled now once and for all! A few thousand
onze
makes no difference to you for the moment; I will make up for them to my godson in time …'

So that was decided, to the great joy of husband and wife. There remained Ferdinando, from whom the prince demanded 2,000
onze
of debt. Lucrezia was the only one with any influence over the Booby, but instead of talking to her brother she took to her bed and refused to see anyone, alleging mysterious sufferings. The Booby, on hearing of his sister's illness, came to visit her every day, but Lucrezia seemed to be particularly averse to seeing him. Her maid had told her, and she herself realised, that Giacomo was squeezing her; but in order to triumph over her relatives she would have ignored much more. Now she felt the harm she was herself doing her younger brother, the only one who loved her, by inducing him to strip himself of part of his meagre inheritance, the least of all the portions. But in her head the parts were inverted; the fault was Ferdinando's for not taking an interest in her, not asking her what was wrong, not removing the last obstacle to the conclusion of the marriage.

Ferdinando on the other hand knew nothing about anything and was open-mouthed when the duke, to get this last little sacrificial lamb over and done with, told him:

‘There is a chance of a good match for your sister … Benedetto Giulente, you know, that intelligent young man who's done so well …'

‘Oh, yes! Fine, I'm pleased …'

‘But of course first Giacomo wants to arrange all your various interests and conclude the division which is still unsettled. Lucrezia has agreed and Chiara too; now your brother wants to arrange matters pending with you, since it's all the same question … That is what Lucrezia's illness is …'

‘Why didn't she mention it to me before?'

He hurried to his sick sister's bedside and said to her:

‘Silly girl! You aren't worried about that, are you? Our uncle
told me all … if you agree, aren't I right to agree too? We must tell him so at once! Does that please you?'

The day of the election drew near. The two Giulente, particularly Benedetto, had wormed out every elector and gone through all the formalities of registration. Morning and night people came to visit the duke and declare they would vote for him; the two Giulente were always present. On the eve of the voting, while the candidate was giving audience to his supporters, a servant came hurrying over from the marchese to call the prince and princess, as Chiara was about to give birth. When Giacomo and Margherita reached her home they found Federico in a frenzy of anxiety, unable to be with the suffering woman, but every instant calling the maid or Cousin Graziella or one of the three midwives who were taking turns at the future mother's bedside. The prince stayed with him while the princess entered Chiara's room. In spite of the agonies of labour she had a serene air and, smiling between her spasms, asked them to reassure her husband.

‘Tell him I'm not suffering … You go yourself … Margherita … Ah … Poor man … he's on tenterhooks …'

The desire of all those years, her most ardent longing, was now about to be realised! At this idea the pains decreased; at the thought of her husband's distress she scarcely suffered any more … When the princess returned to the room, the midwife exclaimed:

‘We're there!… We're there!…'

‘Is it showing its head?' asked Cousin Graziella, holding the marchesa by the shoulders in her final spasm.

‘I don't know … Courage, signora marchesa … What is it?'

Suddenly the midwife went pale, seeing her hopes of rich tips vanish; from the bleeding womb came a piece of formless flesh, an unnameable thing, a beaked fish, a featherless bird; this sexless monster had one eye, three things like paws, and was still alive.

‘Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!'

Chiara, luckily, had fainted as soon as she was freed. The princess, who had been wandering round the room without touching a thing, incapable of giving the suffering woman any
help, now turned away her head in disgust at the sight. And the midwives, Graziella and the maids looked at each other in consternation exclaiming:

‘Who will give her husband the news?'

Just then the marchese, hearing no sound, called out:

‘Cousin!… Donna Agata!… How's it going? Cousin! Is no one coming?'

Donna Graziella had to go out to him and prepare him for the blow:

‘Cousin, be of good heart … Chiara is freed …'

‘Is it a boy? Is it a girl?… Cousin!… why don't you speak?'

‘Courage!… The Lord has not wished … Chiara is well; that is the important thing …'

The prince, entering to see the abortion whose single eye was now lifeless, tried to prevent his frenzied brother-in-law from entering the room too, but he could not succeed. Before the monster which the appalled midwives had put on a heap of baby-clothes the marchese stood rooted to the ground, his hands in his hair. Meanwhile his wife was coming to and, looking around at those standing by.

‘Federico! Is it a boy?…' were the first words she gasped out.

‘Stay quiet now!' enjoined the women together, moving in front of the abortion so as to prevent her noticing it. ‘Let's not say anything to her for the moment …'

‘Federico!' exclaimed the mother.

‘Chiara!… How are you?' exclaimed the marchese, running up to her. ‘Have you suffered much? Are you still suffering?'

‘No, nothing … Our son?'

‘Chiara, be comforted! It's a little girl,' announced her cousin hurrying up to her, ‘What does it matter!… She's so pretty!'

‘A pity!' sighed she. ‘Are you sorry?' she asked her husband then, seeing his gloomy face.

‘No! No!… All children are just as dear.'

‘Where is she?… Bring her here!…' she exclaimed with another sigh.

At that point a maid, on the princess's orders, was taking
away the foetus wrapped in a cloth, trying not to be noticed.

‘There!…' exclaimed Chiara. ‘I want to see her.'

All were speechless with confusion. Federico, stroking her hands and kissing her forehead, said to her:

‘Courage, my dear … You must be brave … I'm resigned too you see! The Lord does not wish it.'

‘Is she dead?…' asked she, going pale.

‘No … it was born dead … Courage, my poor dear … As long as you're all right … the rest is nothing. May the Lord's will be done!'

‘I want to see her.'

Everyone surrounded her, trying to dissuade her; it was dead after all! Why torture herself by the sight? She must take care of herself; the important thing now was her own health!

‘I want to see her,' she answered sharply.

There was nothing for it but to do what she wanted. She did not cry, she showed no disgust at examining that abomination. She said to her husband:

‘He was your son!…' and ordered it not be taken away for the moment. Meanwhile other relatives were arriving; Don Eugenio, Donna Ferdinanda, the Duchess Radalì, the marchese's cousins. All condoled but wished them better luck next time. Towards evening the duke also arrived to express his regrets, but he remained only a short time, as the Giulente were awaiting him below to tell him the latest news about the electorate's dispositions. Benedetto was like Garibaldi saying to Bixio, ‘Nino, tomorrow we'll be in Palermo!…'