South Wind(Fiscle Part-3), Norman Douglas [most important books of all time .TXT] 📗
- Author: Norman Douglas
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Man! And Growing More Formidable Every Day, As His Wealth Increased.
His Income Was Already Such That He Could Afford To Be Honest; Nothing
But The Force Of Old Habits Kept Him From Developing Into A Positive
Saint.
It Stands To Reason That A Person Of This Caliber Would Have Sniffed At
A Paltry Remuneration Of Five Thousand Francs Offered By An Obscure
Country Priest. But Don Giustino Was A Good Son Of The Church. He Had
Never Forgotten The Recommendation Of His Old Patron To Succour The
Humble And Distressed; He Specialized, As A Lawyer, In Defending
Murderers And Rescuing Them From The Secular Arm. They Were Enthusiasts
Suffering Under A Sense Of Wrong; They Belonged To The Class Of The
Honest Poor; They Were Victims Of Governmental Greed And Social
Injustice. Motives, Not Deeds! He Would Say. And The Motives Of The
Poor Must Be Judged By Other Standards Than Those Of The Rich. They
Have Other Lives, Other Temptations. Trust The People. The People,
Under Proper Guidance Of The Priests. . . .
Although It Was Hardly Likely That The Great Man Would Deign To Accept
Torquemada's Invitation, Yet Half The Town Was Assembled At The Harbour
To Await The Arrival Of The Evening Boat And Catch A Glimpse, If
Possible, Of The Famous Camorrista. And There He Was! He Leaned Over
The Taffrail, Easily Recognizable From His Pictures In The Illustrated
Papers. He Was Dressed In A Felt Hat, Brown Boots, And Light Grey
Clothes--Just Like Anybody Else. Presently He Descended To The Quay,
Followed By A Tall And Solid-Looking Young Valet. He Was Wreathed In
Smiles. A Whiff Of Political Life, Of Busy Deeds In The Capital,
Exhaled From His Person. The Mayor Of Nepenthe, A Devout Catholic,
Deferentially Shook Hands And Introduced The Parroco And Other
Notabilities. They Drove Up Together. It Was All Delightfully Breezy
And Informal. But Men Were Aware That In This Little Episode There
Lurked More Than Met The Eye; That The Arrival Of Commendatore Morena
Was An Occasion Worthy To Be Chronicled In The Annals Of The Island.
Not Only Was It His First Appearance As A Deputy Among His
Constituents. That Alone Would Have Been An Event. The Avowed Purpose
Of His Visit, To Rescue A Criminal From The Properly Constituted
Authorities, Gave It The Character Of A Pro-Vatican Demonstration--A
Slap In The Face Of King And Constitution.
An Intimate Little Dinner Had Been Arranged By The Parish Priest In
Order To Give The Principal Clergy And A Few Favoured Laymen Of Their
Party An Opportunity Of Paying Their Respects. No One Knew What Took
Place At This Repast Save That The Distinguished Guest Was In Wonderful
Humour; He Joked And Laughed And Told Funny Stories; He Was Enchanted
With The Wine And The Excellent Local Crayfish And Announced His
Intention Of Buying A Little Villa Wherein To Spend The Evening Of His
Days, After His Public Labours Were Over. An Ideal Spot! Lucky People,
He Called Them. It Was Most Unfortunate That He Would Be Obliged To
Leave By To-Morrow's Midday Boat, And So Miss The Greater Part Of The
Festival Of Saint Eulalia.
Another Little Item Of News Was Allowed To Filter Out And Sedulously
Propagated, To The Effect That The Commendatore Had Refused, Politely
But Firmly, To Accept Any Remuneration For His Services. Such A Thing
Could Not Be Thought Of! Pleasure And Duty Rarely Coincided As In This
Case, Where It Was Both A Pleasure To Come To This Charming Island And
A Duty To Say A Few Words In Court About This Unfortunate Young Man--To
Defend The Oppressed To The Utmost Of His Miserable Ability, And
Thereby Approve Himself A Good Son Of The Church.
"Your Servant In Everything!" He Added. "And If You Would Now Accept
From Me A Humble Donation Of One Thousand Francs To Be Distributed, As
His Reverence Thinks Best, Among The Needy Poor Of Nepenthe, You Would
Indeed Make Me Your Debtor For Life!"
Such Was The Great Man's Speech, As Reported. It Was A Pure Invention
On The Part Of Torquemada Who, Being A High-Principled Ecclesiastic,
Had Clear-Cut Orthodox Views Anent The Utility Of Pious Legends. He
Knew It Would Sound Well Among The Populace. He Hoped It Would Vex The
Envious Magistrate Into A Fit Of Colic. He Argued That The Great Man
Himself, In The Event Of Its Coming To His Ears, Would Not Be Otherwise
Than Gratified By A Godly Fable So Strictly In Keeping With His
Character.
Don Francesco Alone, The Smiling Terrestrial Beast, The Lover Of Wine
And Women, Held Aloof From The Entertainment, Alleging A Gastric
Indisposition And Doctor's Orders. He Did Not See Eye To Eye With
Torquemada On Matters Such As These. Don Francesco Disliked All
Measures Of Violence, Camorra Or Freemasonry, Vatican Or
Quirinal--Disliked Them So Much That He Would Have Hated Them Had He
Been Built, Like The Parroco, On Hating Lines. He Was Too Unwieldy, Too
Fond Of Life, Too Indulgent Towards Himself And Others To Experience At
Mention Of Don Giustino's Name Anything But A Certain Feeling Of
Discomfort--A Feeling Which His Acute Intelligence, Embedded Under Those
Rolls Of Fat, Enabled Him To Formulate With Warmth And Precision.
"I Know Quite Well," He Said To Torquemada, "That He Calls Himself A
Good Son Of The Church. So Much The Worse For The Church. I Understand
He Is A Prominent Member Of The Government. So Much The Worse For The
Government. And I Realize That, But For His Intervention, This Harmless
Individual Might Spend The Remainder Of His Life In Prison. So Much The
Worse For All Of Us, Who Derive Justice From So Tainted A Source. As To
Dining At The Same Table With Him--No. Does Not The Whole World Know His
History? The Animal! He Would Make Me Vomit. And You Will Believe Me
When I Say, My Dear Parroco, That I Do Not Look My Best On Such
Occasions."
Torquemada Shook His Head, Mournfully. It Was By No Means The First
Time That He Had Suspected His Popular Colleague Of Being A Lukewarm
Christian.
Chapter 36
The Market-Place Was Filled To Over-Brimming. Everybody Discussed The
Near Events In The Court Of Justice. It Promised To Be A Bad Day For
Signor Malipizzo. And Yet People Could Not Help Admitting How Clever He
Had Been To Lock Up Those Russians. It Was The Best Thing He Could Have
Done Under The Circumstances. It Proved His Freedom From Anti-Catholic
Prejudices. It Made Him Look Icily Objective.
Torquemada, On Hearing That The Prisoner's Gold Coin Corresponded With
Those Others Which Had Been In The Possession Of The Murdered Man,
Thought It Deplorable. Here Was Plain Evidence Of His Cousin's Guilt!
Most Deplorable. Still, The Victim Being Not Only A Foreigner But A
Protestant Was A Considerable Mitigation Of The Offence From The Moral
And Religious Point Of View, And Possibly From The Legal One As Well.
Anyhow, What Did Legal Aspects Matter? Had He Not Engaged Don Giustino?
Innocent Or Guilty, The Prisoner Would Be Released. And, On Second
Thoughts, He Discovered Him To Be Worthy Of The Great Man's Golden
Eloquence. He Was Not Altogether A Fool. There Was A Touch Of Manliness
About Him; He Was Decidedly A Brighter Lad Than He Looked. He Deserved
To Be Released.
Ten O'clock Sounded.
The Court Had Never Been So Crowded. There Was Barely Standing Room.
Sunlight Poured In Through The Windows Which Had Not Been Cleaned For
Many Long Months; The Atmosphere Was Already Rather Oppressive. It Was
A Stuffy Place At All Times, Reeking Of Old Tobacco Smoke And Humanity.
Everybody Was Still Save The Old Grey-Headed Clerk Who Fussed About
With Papers. Signor Malipizzo, After A Deferential But Dignified Bow To
The Famous Lawyer, Had Taken His Seat On The Raised Platform Facing The
Public Whence He Was Wont To Dispense Justice. Nailed Against The Wall,
Directly Over His Head, Was A Large White Paper Bearing The Printed
Words "La Legge": The Law. It Dominated The Chamber. On One Side Of
This Could Be Seen A Coloured Portrait Of The Sovereign In The
Bersagliere Uniform; A Fierce Military Glance Shot Out Of His Eyes From
Under That Helmet Whose Plume Of Nodding Feathers Made It Look Three
Sizes Too Large For His Head. On The Other Side Hung A Representation
Of The Madonna, Simpering Benignly In A Blue Tea-Gown Besprinkled With
Pearls And Golden Lace. The Spittoon, Which His Worship Required
Continually During The Audiences, Was Wont To Be Placed Immediately
Below This Latter Picture; It Was The Magistrate's Polite Freemasonish
Method Of Expressing His Reverence For The Mother Of God. Everybody
Noticed That On The Present Occasion This Piece Of Furniture Was
Located Elsewhere. It Stood Below The Sovereign's Portrait. A Delicate
Compliment To The Formidable Lawyer-Champion Of Catholicism, Sworn
Enemy To The House Of Savoy. People Commented Favourably On This Little
Detail. How Artful Of Him! They Said.
All Eyes Were Fixed Upon Don Giustino. He Sat There Quietly. If He Was
Bored He Certainly Did Not Show It. Now That He Was Here He Would Give
These Good People A Taste Of His Quality. He Knew All About The Gold
Coin; He Was Profoundly Convinced Of The Prisoner's Guilt. This Was
Lucky For The Young Man. Had He Thought Otherwise He Would Probably
Have Refused To Take Up The Case. Don Giustino Made A Point Of Never
Defending Innocent People. They Were Idiots Who Entangled Themselves In
The Meshes Of The Law; They Fully Deserved Their Fate. Really To Have
Murdered Muhlen Was The One And Only Point In The Prisoner's Favour. It
Made Him Worthy Of His Rhetorical Efforts. All His Clients Were Guilty,
And All Of Them Got Off Scot Free. "I Never Defend People I Can't
Respect," He Used To Say.
He Began His Speech In A Rambling, Desultory Sort Of Fashion And Quite
A Low Tone Of Voice, As If He Were Addressing A Circle Of Friends.
A Charming Place, Nepenthe! He Would Carry Away The Pleasantest
Memories Of Its Beauty And The Kindliness Of Its Inhabitants. It Was
Like A Terrestrial Paradise, So Verdant, So Remote From All Danger. And
Yet Nothing On Earth Was Secure. That Volcanic Eruption The Other
Day--What A Scare It Must Have Given Them! What A Lucky Escape They Had,
Thanks To The Divine Intervention Of The Patron Saint! Hardly Any
Damage Done; No Victims Worth Mentioning. The Fertile Fields Were
Intact; Mothers And Fathers And Children Could Once More Go Out To
Their Daily Tasks And Return In The Evening, Tired But Happy, To Gather
Round The Family Board. Family Life, The Sacred Hearth! It Was The
Pride, The Strength, The Mainstay Of The Country; It Was The Source
Whence The Rising Generation Drew Their Earliest Notions Of Piety And
Right Conduct. Nothing In The World Could Replace Home Influence, The
Parents' Teaching And Example--Nothing! And This Poor Boy, Now
Threatened With Imprisonment, Had A Mother. He Had A Mother. Did The
Court Appreciate The Import Of Those Words? Did They Realize What It
Meant To Shatter That Hallowed Bond, To Deprive The Parent Of Her
Offspring's Help And Consolation--The Child Of Its Mother's Fostering
Care? Let Them Consider The Lives Of All T Hose Great Men Of The Past
Who Were Known To Have Had Mothers--Themistocles, Dante, Virgil, Peter
The Hermit And Madame De Maintenon--Why Had They Achieved Distinction In
The World? What Was The Secret Of Their Greatness? A Mother's
Affectionate Guidance In Youth. They Had Not Been Torn, As Children,
From Her Loving Arms.
A Good Many People Were Already Sobbing. But The Orator Had Noticed
That Something Was Wrong. He Consulted A Small Scrap Of Paper And Then
Continued In The Same Conversational Tones As Before.
He Had No Mother. He Was An Orphan. An Orphan! Did The Court Realize
What It Meant? No, He Dared Not Ask Them To Picture To Themselves All
That Was Implied In That Bitter Word. An Orphan. Nobody To Instil Those
Early Lessons Of Piety . . . To Grow Up Wild, Neglected, Despised. . . .
It Was Impossible For A Man To Avoid Going Astray In Such Terribly
Unnatural Conditions. Everybody Else Had Parents To Counsel And Direct
Them; He Alone Was Bereft Of
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