THE FOOL ERRANT - World eBook Library - World Public Library

things might have been; but the strongest ray of comfort shed upon me from this worthy fellow's store was this, that Donna
Aurelia had returned to her house. Plainly, if she had been thither twice, she could be induced thither a third time. It must then
be my business to induce her, and to see to it, if possible, that she was properly received upon that occasion.
Here was a duty plainly set before me—my first and greatest reparation, which no other tie must hinder, to accomplish which I
must shrink from no hardship however severe, no humiliation however bitter. Another lay closer to my heart, I'll allow, the
words of pardon which I hoped to sue forth from the dearest lips in all the world—for I could never hope to be happy until the
being whom, most loving, I had most offended could consent to assure me of my peace. This, however, I resolutely put by as a
selfish pleasure which I must not expect to enjoy until I had earned it. However natural might be the impulse which urged me to
find Aurelia, fall at her feet, anoint them with my tears, I must withstand it until I could be sure of her honour saved. Now, was
that surety to be gained first from her or first from her wrathful husband?
I turned to the custode, who stood smiling and rubbing his chin in my doorway. I said, "Beppo, I am in great perplexity. It is idle
to deny that I am the immediate cause of all this misery, for you know it as well as I do."
He said that he had guessed something of what I was so good as to tell him. "There was, as I understand, a little misadventure
with a cupboard door," he said; "but who can contend with Fate?"
"It has been my fate," I said, "to bring ruin upon the lady whom I adore. My sin is worse than that of Hophni and Phineas, and I
would that the requital might be as theirs was, save that I can make it more bitter yet."
"Why," says he, "what was done to those gentlemen?" I told him that they were slain with the sword; to which he replied that, so
far as he had ever heard, the doctor was nothing of a swordsman, and that he knew I had some proficiency in fence. "I hope
then," he added, "that your honour will succeed where those other gentlemen failed; but if you ask my advice, I say, leave the
doctor alone, and comfort the little lady."
His gross misapprehension of every merit of the case nettled me: I saw it was useless to talk with a person of his condition, and
that instant action was my only safety. I must go, on my knees if must be, to the feet of Donna Aurelia, I must put myself entirely
at her service. Should that lie in spurning me with her heel I must endure it; should she bid me go and receive public
chastisement from her dangerous husband, I would assuredly go. Tears, stripes, hunger, thirst, cold, heat, loneliness, nakedness,
unjust accusation, ridicule, malicious persecution—all these I would cheerfully undergo; and if one or any of them could repair
her misfortunes, then they would be repaired. The custode said that he believed they could not, but I bade him be silent and
begone. "Wretched Venetian," I cried at him, "thou art incapable of comprehending anything but victuals. If I tell thee that I have
lacerated an angel and deserve the sword, thou speakest of my skill in fence! I waste my breath upon thee. Comfort the lady,
dost thou dare to say? What comfort can she have but in my repentance? What have I to offer but devotion?"
"It is just that which I advise your honour-" he began, but I was now embarked upon the waters of adventure, cheered with the
prospect of action, impatient to begin my voyage. Astonishment cropped his period midway; he gaped as he saw what I did. I
threw upon the floor my sword and finely laced coat; I threw my vest, ruffles, cravat, watch, rings, after them. I kicked into a
corner with my foot my buckled shoes, my silk stockings, my fine gilt garters. Upon the top of the heap I cast my Paris hat, my
gloves and brooch. "There lies," I said, "the sinful husk of Francis Strelley. Let the swine nozzle and rout in it for what they can
find to their liking. And here," I cried, standing before him in shirt and breeches, barefooted, bareheaded, without a coat to my
back, "here, good man, stands the naked soul of that same Francis, which shall go shivering forth to declare his shame, to meet
his penance, to stand begging at the door of the Holy Place for the mercy which he has shown himself unworthy of."
About my disordered hair I tied Aurelia's ribbon, round my upper arm I placed her garter, to my neck, upon a silken cord, I
hung her Venice slipper. In the bosom of my shirt I placed the little book of devotion which she had given me, and the "Aminta"
of Tasso in which we had last read together. "Farewell, Beppo," said I; "you may not see Francis again."
"Where are you going, sir?" he asked me, wondering.
"To Siena—to Aurelia—to Heaven!" and he held up his hands.
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