Chapter V: The Shadow of Signor Da Camin

I

Donna Fedele arrived in her carriage at ten o'clock. A despairing note from Leila had brought her the news at nine. She got out at the entrance to the open verandah in order not to pass the chamber of death, and Leila came on to the verandah to meet her. They kissed in silence. Leila's eyes were full of tears, and Donna Fedele looked ghastly, but she had no tears. They entered the drawing-room, and Teresina, who happened to be coming in from the dining-room at the same moment, began sobbing at sight of Donna Fedele, and covered her face with her handkerchief. When she had succeeded in controlling her feelings she handed Leila a telegram. While the girl was opening it and reading it Donna Fedele softly questioned the maid. Had they noticed anything wrong during the day, or, perhaps, during the evening.

Nothing, nothing. He had not been in good spirits, that she must admit, but, of course, they all knew that Don Aurelio's flight and Signor Alberti's departure had upset him. Teresina, whose tongue was now loosed, evidently had something more to say, but she checked herself, and fell to sobbing again.

And how had they made the discovery?

It was Leila who answered. Giovanni had gone in with his coffee at seven and had found him dead. He was sitting up in bed, his shoulders outside the covers, and his head resting upon the head-board. The doctor had assured them that death had been instantaneous, for the body was composed, the face calm, and there had evidently been no attempt to rise or ring the bell. Death had probably taken place as soon as he got into bed, and before he had arranged himself for sleep. The lamp was still burning when Giovanni went in. Teresina now gave further particulars. Giovanni, who slept on the ground floor, had heard his master pass his door twice before he, Giovanni, had gone to bed. He had heard him open the door of the villa on the side towards the mountain, and early that morning, while putting the dining-room to rights, he had missed certain plants which the Signorina had placed in two glass bowls. They had been found later, in ordinary pots, out of doors. No one in the house knew anything about this change, and it must have been the master who set them out, that they might enjoy the rain. At this point the tears welled up in Donna Fedele's eyes, which seemed at the same time to be smiling with tender emotion.

"You will need help," she said to Leila, controlling her feelings after a moment's struggle. The girl handed her the telegram that had just arrived. It was from Signor Marcello's agent, announcing his speedy arrival from Vicenza with a lawyer.

Donna Fedele inquired if there were any relatives who ought to be written to. Teresina knew that there were some distant cousins, but the master had more than once said to her, evidently with a motive, that in case of his death they were not to be troubled.

Giovanni appeared and summoned the maid, who presently returned to say that the archpriest and his chaplain wished to know if the Signorina would receive them. Leila, much annoyed by this intrusion, consulted Donna Fedele, who advised her to see them.

"Meanwhile," said she, "if I may----"

Leila understood at once, and murmured, "Of course, of course!" Donna Fedele crossed the billiard-room and study to the chamber of death. On reaching the study her remarkable fortitude almost forsook her. Only a few hours ago she had sat here with him. She could see his wrinkled face--his speaking countenance that was still youthful, his eyes that so quickly revealed the impulses of his warm heart--and his frank voice seemed to be still speaking to her. She felt as if he had only just left the room. The arm-chair behind the writing-table was pushed aside, upon the table lay an open account-book, and the bedroom door stood ajar. Donna Fedele pushed it open very slowly and very reverently. Upon the bed, between two lighted candles, lay her old friend, dressed in black, and clasping a crucifix in his ivory hands. The gate-keeper's wife, who was seated opposite the bed, near the window, rose as Donna Fedele entered. The latter proposed that she should go out for half an hour. When the woman had left the room Donna Fedele approached the bed and stood gazing tenderly upon the waxen face of the one man whom in her youth she had really loved. The sad evening of his long day had drawn to a close, and at last he was with his loved ones. Had fate decreed differently for him and for her, had she become his wife, this parting would have been more terrible. She sighed, almost as if regretting what might have been. Closing her eyes, she saw him again as he had been in his youth, and let her mind dwell upon the secret love of long ago, which had been so sweet even in its bitter and restless anxieties. Both had been led astray at that time; they had been over-heedless of a great danger. She more than he, indeed, for had he but spoken, had he but wished it, she would joyously have sacrificed everything to him. Her father had been alive then. Good God! if this had really happened, how horrible it would have been! She stooped to kiss the ivory hands, and then, sinking upon her knees, prayed fervently, promising her dead friend that she would be as a mother to the woman his son had loved, and would seek to bring about the union he had desired. She rose, consoled. She could hear distinctly the ticking of his watch on the bedside table. It was as if some part of him still lived and understood. Many flowers had been strewn upon the bed. She reflected that another woman in her place would surely take one to cherish, but she could not bring herself to do so, nor could she tell what prevented her. Once more she kissed the ivory hands and then the crucifix, thus setting a seal upon her promise.

II

On leaving the chamber of death she was greatly astonished to find Leila in the study. The girl was quivering with indignation against the archpriest and the chaplain, especially against the chaplain. She was so upset, indeed, that she would not tell her story here, so close to the peaceful dead. Donna Fedele and she withdrew to the billiard-room. It appeared that both the archpriest and the chaplain had greatly deplored Signor Marcello's sudden death, for reasons of a religious nature, and on her reminding them of the purity of his life, of his charities, his great piety, and of the fact that he had received the Sacraments but a few days since, the archpriest had answered coldly, "We can only hope for the best!" and the chaplain had not opened his lips.

Then the archpriest had taken the liberty of alluding to the needs of his church, believing he was addressing an heiress, and at last the chaplain had asked her, with a great show of humility, if "that young man" were still at the Montanina. "I said 'Yes,' Leila went on, "simply because I was so indignant, and they are nothing but busy-bodies! I am sure they know Alberti is no longer here, for the archpriest turned red and the chaplain yellow." Had Donna Fedele been aware that Leila knew of the rumour that had started from the parsonage concerning Alberti's supposed intrigues in Milan, she would have been better able to understand her extraordinary indignation, one element of which escaped the girl's own consciousness. She expressed regret that she had not done at once what she was now determined to do--to shut herself up in Signor Marcello's room and not to leave it again until she was ready to leave the villa. After all, she was no one in this house. Her duty was to remain with Signor Marcello until the end, but once Signor Marcello was gone there was no room for her at the Montanina. Donna Fedele sought to bring Leila to look upon matters in a different light, but seeing that she was becoming exasperated, she deemed it wiser not to insist, and so took her leave, saying she would return in the evening. Leila expressed no pleasure at this promise, but kissed her in silence, and then withdrew to the death-chamber. Donna Fedele did not want to leave until she had seen Teresina, but she was not feeling strong enough to go in search of her. She therefore rested in a low chair in the drawing-room and waited. At last she heard Giovanni and the cook talking in the dining-room, and the prudent footman came to the door to see if they were safe from listeners. So Donna Fedele was able to send for Teresina and tell her of Leila, who had insisted upon shutting herself up, and talked of leaving as soon as the funeral was over.

"I hope she will come to my house," she said, "at least for a time. But I really don't know what she has taken into her head--whether she proposes going to her father, or what."

Teresina was unmoved. Go away! Nonsense! She was the heiress. Her poor master had given Tefesina to understand this most clearly. Donna Fedele expressed a doubt. What if the girl should refuse the inheritance? Teresina was startled now. How could she possibly refuse? If for no other reason she would accept in order to be able to help her father. And she proceeded to tell of the money she was in the habit of sending off for the Signorina. Besides, how would the girl herself get along? "My good woman," said Donna Fedele, "when it is a question of pride...." But the maid could not understand such pride, and the Signora did not attempt to explain it to her. She requested Teresina instead to let her driver know that she was ready to go home. The servant begged her to remain until the arrival of the agent and the lawyer, when they would learn something positive concerning the will. But she could not persuade her. Donna Fedele replied that she did not wish to intrude, and that she would not return unless she were sent for.

* * * * *

She was not sent for, but towards evening she received the following letter from her dead friend's agent:

"MADAM,--The maid Teresina Scotz begs me to inform you that this morning the notary, Signor Dr. Camilli, and I went to the office of the Royal Prefect of Schio, in whose presence my poor master's holograph will was opened, it having been in accordance with regulations deposited by him with the above-named notary. I also take pleasure in informing you that Signorina Leila Camin is therein appointed sole legatee, and that the maid, Teresina Scotz, is to be the recipient of a legacy amounting to five francs per day, exempt from taxation. Signora Scotz begs me to inform you, further, that a telegram has reached me from Padua, signed Girolamo da Camin, which contains, besides expressions of condolence, the declaration that he is Signorina Leila's father, that she is a minor, and also the announcement of his intended arrival some time to-day. He will probably come by the last train this evening. The heiress admits that she is the above-named gentleman's daughter, and that her twentieth birthday fell only a few months since, whereas I am aware that my lamented master believed her to be older.

"I am, Madam,
"Your very humble servant,
"MATTEO CAROZZI, _Agent_.

"Val d'Astico (Vicenza), _1 July..._."