Chapter XXXV: The Coat of Arms

Thus the one really formidable enemy of the Lavoratori family, had he chosen to assume that character, was the Piccinino; but Mila had no suspicion of it, and Fra Angelo relied upon that element of heroism which formed, if we may so express it, half of his ward's character. The worthy monk was not free from anxiety, none the less; he had hoped that he would soon see him again, and have an opportunity to make sure of his disposition in the matter: but he had waited and sought in vain. He was beginning to wonder if he had not turned the wolf into the sheepfold, and if it were not a great mistake to act in concert with men who were capable of doing what one would not be willing to do oneself.

He went to Villa Palmarosa at the usual hour for the daily siesta, and found Agatha preparing to enjoy the delights of that moment of repose so essential to Southern peoples.

"Set your mind at rest, my dear padre," she said, "my anxiety vanished with the daylight. At dawn I was so far from confident concerning your ward's purposes, that I went myself to make sure that he had not murdered Michel during the night. But the child was sleeping quietly and the Piccinino had already gone."

"You went yourself to investigate, signora? What will the people in the suburb say of such a proceeding?"

"They will never know anything about it, I trust. I was alone and on foot, entirely covered by an old-fashioned _mazzaro_[10] and, if I met any persons who know me, they certainly did not recognize me. However, my good padre, I no longer have any serious fears. The abbé knows nothing."

"You are sure of it?"

"I am perfectly sure, and the cardinal is as incapable of remembering anything whatsoever, as the doctor represented him to be. Nevertheless, the abbé has evil projects on hand. Would you believe that he supposes Michel to be my lover?"

"And the Piccinino believed it?" said the monk, in dismay.

"He believes it no longer," replied Agatha. "I received a note from him this morning in which he gives me his word that I can be perfectly at ease; that the abbé will be in his power in the course of the day, and that until then he will find a way to keep him so busy that we shall hear nothing from him. So I breathe freely, and have only one subject of anxiety; that is, to know how I am to escape the intimacy of Captain Piccinino hereafter, for he threatens to become too attentive. But we will talk of that later; sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof; and if, after all, it should become necessary for me to tell him the truth--You do not think him the man to abuse it, do you?"

"I know that he is the man to pretend that he proposes to take advantage of and abuse every opportunity; but have the courage to treat him always as a paragon of sincerity and generosity, and you will see that he will try to live up to the character, and will do it, in spite of the devil."

The princess and the Capuchin talked together for a long while, and mutually informed each other of all that they knew. After which, Fra Angelo went down to Catania to cancel Magnani's orders, to make another appointment with him to meet Agatha, and to take his place as escort to Michel and his father to the Marquis della Serra's palace; for, in spite of everything, Fra Angelo did not like the idea of their being alone in the country, so long as he himself had not seen the _Destatore's_ son.

We will follow these three members of the Lavoratori family to the marquis's villa, leaving Mila in anxious expectation of the monk's visit, while Magnani, working on the gallery opposite her room, was far from suspecting that, after asking his assistance, she was watching for an opportunity to steal out of sight. She had promised her father to go and dine with her friend Nenna, as soon as she had washed and ironed a veil which she said that she must have to wear. Everything happened as her unknown friend had predicted. She saw the monk at the fountain, and had no need to feign a most intense fear of being taken by surprise, for she asked herself in dire distress what Magnani would think of her if, after what she had told him, he should see her voluntarily talking with that miserable wretch.

To avoid the necessity of speaking to him and looking at his disgusting face, she tossed him a written paper which he read with the utmost delight; then he went away, throwing her kisses which made her quiver with disgust and indignation.

At that moment her father, brother, and uncle, having no shadow of suspicion of the perils to which the poor child was about to expose herself for them, entered the Della Serra palace. That sumptuous dwelling, more modern than that of Palmarosa, from which it was separated only by their respective great parks and a narrow valley covered with gardens and grass, was filled with artistic objects, statues, urns, and magnificent paintings, which the marquis had collected with the enthusiasm of an earnest and enlightened connoisseur. He came forward in person to meet the Angelos, shook hands with them cordially, and, pending the dinner-hour, took them all over his noble residence, showing to them and explaining courteously, and with no less wit than good sense, the masterpieces of art with which it was embellished. Pier-Angelo, although a simple decorator, had excellent taste, and a due appreciation of the beautiful in art. He was peculiarly susceptible to the charm of all those marvellous things with which he was already familiar, and his artless yet profound reflections enlivened the most serious conversation instead of lowering its tone. Michel was a little embarrassed at first in the marquis's presence; but as he soon discovered that his father's natural and unconstrained manner seemed to a man of sense like the marquis in unexceptionable taste and most becoming, he felt more at ease; and finally, when he found himself sitting at a table laden with silver plate, decorated as handsomely and with as great an abundance of flowers as for the entertainment of the most illustrious guests, he forgot his prejudices, and talked as freely and interestingly as if he had been the marquis's own son or nephew.

A single thing disturbed him strangely during the dinner: the expression and attitude which he attributed to the marquis's servants; I say which he attributed, because he dared not look at them. He had dined many a time at the tables of the rich when he was in Rome, especially after his father returned to Catania, and he no longer had a family to keep him at home and prevent his seeking the society of the fashionable youth of the city. So that he did not fear any affront for himself; but, as it was the first time that he and his father had been invited to dine abroad with a patrician, he suffered torments at the idea that the lackeys might shrug their shoulders and pass the dishes rudely to the excellent old man.

In truth those lackeys might well have had a feeling of anger and contempt, having seen Pier-Angelo on his ladder so many times in that same palace, and treated him as their equal.

Nevertheless, whether because the marquis had prepared them by a word or two of kindly and straightforward explanation calculated to flatter and soothe the sensitive self-love of men of that class, or because Pier-Angelo was so great a favorite with all who knew him that even footmen laid aside their customary pride in his favor, they served him with much deference. Michel observed it at last, when his father, turning to an old servant who was filling his glass, said to him with a smile:

"Many thanks, old fellow; you wait on me like a friend. I'll do as much for you when I have the chance."

Michel flushed and glanced at the marquis, who smiled with a touched and gratified air. The old servant also smiled at Pier-Angelo with a friendly glance.

After the dessert was removed, the marquis was informed that Master Barbagallo, the princess's majordomo, was waiting in one of the rooms of the palace to show him a picture. They found him in conference with Fra Angelo, whose sobriety and restless activity made him impatient of a long sitting at table, and who had asked leave to walk about the grounds immediately after the first course.

At first, the marquis went alone to Barbagallo, to ask if he had any private message for him from the princess; and when they had exchanged in an undertone a few words which seemed to be of no importance, to judge by their faces, the marquis returned to Michel and said, putting his arm through his:

"Perhaps it will afford you some pleasure to see my family portraits, which are in a separate gallery, and which I had forgotten to show you. Don't be alarmed at the multitude of ancestors assembled under my roof. You can look them over at a glance, and I will call your attention particularly only to those which are the work of some great master. However, it is an interesting collection of costumes, which a historical painter might consult with advantage. But, before going in, let us cast a glance at this one which Master Barbagallo has brought to us, having just disinterred it in the lofts of Villa Palmarosa.--My dear child," he added, in a low voice, "pray bestow a greeting on the poor majordomo, who is outdoing himself in reverences, being ashamed, doubtless, of his behavior to you at the princess's ball."

Michel at last noticed the majordomo's advances, and replied to them without resentment. Since he had become reconciled to his position and to himself, he felt that he was cured of his over-sensitiveness, and believed, with his father, that no impertinence can reach the man who possesses his own esteem.

"This which I present to your excellency," said the majordomo to the marquis, "is a very much dilapidated Palmarosa; but, although the inscription had almost disappeared, I have succeeded in deciphering it, and here it is on a bit of paper."

"What!" said the marquis, with a smile, "you succeeded in reading that this swashbuckler was a captain in the reign of King Manfred, and that he accompanied John of Procida to Constantinople? That is wonderful. For myself, I read the original inscription with the eyes of faith!"

"You can be perfectly sure that I am not mistaken," replied Barbagallo. "I knew this gallant captain well, and I have been trying for a long time to find his portrait."

Pier-Angelo roared with laughter.

"Ah! so you lived in those days!" he said; "I knew that you were older than I am, Master Barbagallo, but I didn't suppose that you saw our Sicilian Vespers!"

"Would that I had not seen it!" exclaimed Fra Angelo, with a sigh.

"I must explain Master Barbagallo's learning, and the interest he takes in my family gallery," said the marquis to Michel. "He has passed his life in this labor of patience, and no one is so familiar as he with Sicilian genealogies. My family was connected by marriage in the past with the Princess of Palmarosa's, and even more closely with the family of Castro-Reale, of which you have doubtless heard."

"I heard a great deal about it yesterday," replied Michel, with a smile.

"Very good; when I became the last heir of that family, after the death of the famous prince known as the _Destatore_, all that came to me by that succession--to which I gave very little thought, I promise you--was a collection of ancestors which I did not even care to unpack, but which Master Barbagallo, being enamored of curios of that sort, took pains to clean and classify, and to hang in their proper order in the gallery you are about to inspect. There were already in that gallery, in addition to my own direct ancestors, a goodly number of ancestors of the Palmarosa line, and Princess Agatha, who cares nothing for collections of the sort, sent me hers, saying that it would be better to collect them in a single place. That gave Master Barbagallo a very long and difficult task, which he executed with honor to himself. Come, all of you, for I have many characters to present to Michel, and it may be that he will need his father's and uncle's assistance to hold his own against so many dead men."

"I retire, in order not to impose my presence upon your lordships," said Master Barbagallo, after accompanying them to the gallery to deposit his Sicilian captain; "I will return some other time to put my picture in place; unless the signor marquis desires that I should give Master Michelangelo Lavoratori, whose very humble servant I am to-day and always, the history of the originals of these portraits."

"What, signor majordomo," laughed Michel, "you know the story of all these characters? There are more than three hundred of them!"

"There are five hundred and thirty, your lordship, and I not only know their names and all the incidents of their lives, with their precise dates, but I also know the name, age, and sex of all the children who died before their features were reproduced, to be transmitted to posterity. There have been three hundred and twenty-seven, including those born dead. I have omitted none but those that never were baptized."

"That is marvellous!" said Michel; "but if I had been in your place, having such a memory, I should have preferred to learn the history of the human race rather than that of a single family."

"The human race doesn't interest me," replied the majordomo, gravely. "His excellency, Prince Dionigi de Palmarosa, father of the present princess, did not entrust me with the duty of teaching his children history. But, as I loved to be occupied, and as I had much time to myself, in a house where no banquets or parties have been given for two generations, he advised me, for amusement, to make a summary of the history of his family, which was scattered through a multitude of manuscript folio volumes, which you can see in the library at Palmarosa, and all of which I examined and studied to the last letter."

"And did it really amuse you?"

"Much, Master Pier-Angelo," the majordomo solemnly replied to the old painter's jocose question.

"I see," rejoined Michel, ironically, "that your lordship is no ordinary steward, and that you are far more cultivated than your duties require."

"My duties, while not brilliant, have always been very pleasant," replied the majordomo, "even in Prince Dionigi's day, and he was pleasant to nobody but me. He had much consideration, almost friendship for me, because I was an open book which he could consult at any hour concerning his ancestors. As for the princess, his daughter, as she is kind to everybody, I cannot but be happy with her. I do almost exactly as I choose, and there are only three things about her that grieve me, and those are her giving up her family gallery, her never consulting her genealogical tree, and her not deigning to investigate the science of heraldry. And yet it is a delightful science, and one which ladies used to cultivate with success."

"And now it is a part of the stock in trade of decorators and gilders of wood," said Michel, laughing anew. "They are attractive ornaments of which the bright colors and the flavor of the days of chivalry please the eye and the imagination; that is all."

"That is all?" rejoined the scandalized steward; "pardon me, your lordship, that is not all. Heraldry is history written in hieroglyphics _ad hoc_. Alas! the time will soon come, perhaps, when we shall know how to read this mysterious writing better than the sacramental characters which cover the tombs and monuments of Egypt! And yet what profound and ingeniously expressed meaning there is in that figurative language! To place upon a seal, upon the bezel of a ring the whole history of one's own race--is not that the result of a marvellous art? And what more concise and more impressive signs have civilized people ever used?"

"What he says is not without a basis of reason and common sense," said the marquis, in an undertone, addressing Michel. "But you listen to him with a disdainful expression which impresses me, young man. Come! say all that you think; I would like to hear it, in order to ascertain whether you have good reason for laughing at the nobility with a touch of bitterness, as you seem inclined to do. Do not be embarrassed; I will listen to you as calmly and disinterestedly as yonder dead men, who look down upon us with lifeless eyes, from their frames blackened by the lapse of time."

[Footnote 10: A black silk cloak, which covers the whole body and the head.]