THE FOOL ERRANT - World eBook Library - World Public Library

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"My passport," I told him, "is destroyed. It described me as a young Jew with an assured manner and a pendulous nose." This caused the Capuchin to look upon his visitor. Whether he knew me or not, then or before, he made no sign. "There's no flattery in that," he said, "but you could have done it. A manner's a manner, and there's an end; but I could swell any man's nose for him and say thank you. And what does your present passport bear?" I said, "I have none. The Holy Office having confiscated it, ejected me from Bologna because I wore a crucifix and prayed to the Madonna." "Ah," says he, "I've known a man hanged in that city for less. But what you say convinces me of one thing: you will be all the better for company." "How so?" said I. "Why," says the Capuchin, "you tell me you were talking to the Madonna." "It is true that I was addressing her in her image." "Very well; that's a proof positive to me that you had nobody else to address—a most unwholesome state of affairs. How does my beard strike you? Black as blackness, I fancy." He was right. I assured him that it was now as black as Erebus and pleased him extremely. I told him, however, that I thought he would have more difficulty with the rest of his description, which gave him a middle size and a cold in the head. He was, in person, gigantic, and in health appeared to be as sound as a bell. "I shall get through," said the friar, "on my beard, and where that goes I can follow as easily as a tomcat his head. But I have a trick of bending the knees which will serve me for some hundreds of yards—and if you suppose that I can't snivel you are very much mistaken. Listen to this." He hung his head, looked earnestly at the ground: then he sniffed. Sniffed, do I say? It was as if all the secret rills of the broad earth had been summoned from their founts. No noise more miserably watery could have proceeded from a nose. He beamed upon me. "Am I a wet blanket?" he cried. "Now, friend, shall we go?" He had packed up his tools in his begging-bag and stood ready to depart. I reminded him that I had no papers. "That need not disturb you at all," he said. "You pass in as my convert. All you have to do is to do nothing and keep your mouth shut. If you cannot speak you cannot answer; that is good logic, I hope. We will discuss our several affairs presently in the reasonable air of Tuscany. I stifle in the Pope's dominions. You might say that there was not room enough for two such men." He blew out his shining cheeks till his eyes disappeared; he looked like a swollen tree-bole with a mossy growth dependent; then he deflated them with a bang, and shouted with laughter —a single expression of delight, sharply reverberant—and suddenly stopped. "Poh! what a rattle you'll think me," he said. "Come—and remember that you are a deaf-mute." To get a thing granted it is no bad way to take it for granted. This is what the Capuchin did. I was young and he was old, I undecided and he perfectly clear in his intention. There was little more—even to my too charitable eyes—in his favour, certainly not his looks. He was a huge, straddling, positive kind of a fellow with an air of specious, bluff benevolence about him which gave way to examination. He had a very ugly mouth under his beard, cut up sideways by the pressure of his long tooth to emerge; his eyes were small, greedy and near together; they looked different ways. His nose was huge and glowing, broad-rooted as a tree and pitted with the smallpox. On his left brow he had a savage scar. His strength and determination were very extraordinary; I was to learn within a few weeks how strong he was, how ferocious and dangerous. His age might be guessed at near sixty for all his vivacity, for at close quarters I could see unmistakably the senile arc in either eye, and, as the reader knows, his hair and beard were very white. Debauchery may have left these marks upon him, but had not worn out his force. That, at any rate, was still enough to resolve the irresolute Francis, an incurable believer in the native goodness of mankind, to obey him in this instance. I am by nature pliant and easily led, and I have never been one for half measures. Therefore I received upon my staff the Capuchin's bundle in addition to my own, and followed my leader towards the guard-house, within sight of which, crooking his knees together under his frock, drawing in his shoulders, poking his head, the sturdy rogue reduced his apparent size and expression more materially than could be believed. His calculating eyes grew weak 30
and watery, he snivelled at the nose, drew his breath sharply as if it hurt him—almost visibly shrank into himself. I looked at him with amazement, but the officers seemed to know him very well. "Ho, Fra Clemente," says one, "on the round again, it appears!" The Capuchin quavered his admission, his hand shook as he proffered his passport. Yes, yes, poor Brother Clement must live, find consolation if he could. A festival at Prato called him, a great affair; but he was getting very sadly, as his friends might see, could not keep the road much longer. The Customs officers gave him back his papers with scarcely a glance to spare for them, and had no ears for his maundering, so occupied were they with me, his companion. "Whom have we here, Fra Clemente?" said one presently, and sent my heart into my throat. But the Capuchin sniggered and touched his nose with his finger; there was an air of low cunning about him very unpleasant to observe. "This, Sor Giacomo," says he with a cackle, "is a little surprise for the Grand Duke—a specimen, a rarity, a pretty thing. This is a Scythian youth, deaf and dumb from his birth, but very taking, as you can see. 'Tis the best thing I've picked up on my travels for many a year, and a fortune to me. Why, if I can present this handsome lad to his Highness, you may have me back upon you in my bishop's coach and six! And there will still be men of my religion who will have got more for doing less, let me tell you. You're never going to spoil an old friend's industry for the sake of a dumb heathen!" "Heathen!" cries the fellow. "Is he a heathen? Do you suppose you may offer the Grand Duke a heathen? You'll have the Inquisition upon you, my man, for certain sure, and the Cardinal Archbishop for once on their side. Into the water with him before you touch Florence, or out with your knife. Make a Christian or a Jew of him." "Ay," says his colleague, handling me as if I had been an Odalisque, "Ay, and the prince, between you and me, is near his time. His menagerie may go to the dogs for all he cares, Jews and infidels, blacks and whites and all. He sees little but the doctors and the priests in these days." "What! Has it come to that?" says the Capuchin, peering through what seemed to be rheumy eyes. "If it have indeed, then may Heaven be his friend, for he'll need one. Tut! so I've spent my ducats for nothing, it seems." He shook his pretended convoy roughly by the shoulder. "Accursed Scythian, that ever I set eyes upon thee! Forty ducats, signori, of hard money to a Venice ship's-chandler who had him, I know, from a Tripoli merchant for half the sum. And a hardy, healthy, tall, propagating rogue he is, by the looks of him. Well, well, you may keep him for me. I am just a broken old man!" He spat upon the ground and appeared to ruminate upon his hard fortune. I was greatly disgusted by now at the false position in which I had been put, and should assuredly have found my tongue had I not perceived that the trick was succeeding. One of the officers said that he would go to perdition rather than have a mute heathen on his hands, the other encouraged the Capuchin to hope for the best. The Grand Duke might rally; he had the strength of a cow and the obstinacy of an old woman. In fact, I was pushed over the frontier after my supposed owner without further ceremony, and soon joined him. The old scoundrel moved painfully off, dragging one leg after the other; but no sooner had the winding of the road concealed him than, erect and replete once more, he clapped me heartily on the back and began to crow and caper his delight in the mountain airs. I watched him with mingled feelings, half gratitude, half disgust. CHAPTER XI. I EXERCISE COMMON SENSE, IMAGINATION AND CHARITY "Was not that fine comedy in an old grey-bearded Capuchin dog?" cried the frate, leaping about and cracking his fingers. "Could you have bettered it? Could any man living have bettered it? Confess me an old rogue-in-grain, or I break every bone in your body." "It is not for me to confess you one thing or another, Fra Clemente—to call you so"—I replied; "except that you have made me party to some abominable falsehoods. However, I have benefited by them, and am willing to believe that you acted for the best, which is more than I can say for your endeavours upon our last meeting at Rovigo. May I remind you of that?" If I had hoped to startle him I was very much mistaken. The Capuchin at once sobered down, and became confidential and affectionate. He put his arm round my neck and spoke with feeling. "You have as good a memory as I have, I see," he said, laughing pleasantly. "I had not intended to recall to your mind a time when I confess to having been the victim of prejudice. And without going so far as to say that I followed you solely to remove your suspicions—that would not be the truth—I shall own that I had you much in my thoughts, and hoped more than once that we might cross paths. My prayer is answered. I shall set to 31
Page 1 and 2: THE FOOL ERRANT by MAURICE HEWLETT
Page 3 and 4: World Public Library The World Publ
Page 5 and 6: The Fool Errant Maurice Hewlett Cop
Page 7 and 8: grunted at his labours, his goaded
Page 9 and 10: CHAPTER I. MY EXORDIUM: A JUSTIFICA
Page 11 and 12: Italian soil I was, in the eyes of
Page 13 and 14: Meantime that year of new experienc
Page 15 and 16: and above all Tuscany, took sacred
Page 17 and 18: turned to her mistress, "Mistress,
Page 19 and 20: He felt my touch, and recoiled from
Page 21 and 22: "I will tell you, sir, the reason o
Page 23 and 24: things might have been; but the str
Page 25 and 26: more urgently than the present, or
Page 27 and 28: I am afflicted, as you ought to hav
Page 29 and 30: say, ha! fair enchantress, do we me
Page 31 and 32: some of which are no doubt open to
Page 33: and linen!" I laughed aloud, and fo
Page 37 and 38: and my sack are no mean caterers. W
Page 39 and 40: "I say," I replied, "that I am than
Page 41 and 42: days running to Mass, I am very sur
Page 43 and 44: in your replies. Why, Heaven! the w
Page 45 and 46: spoke of me by a title of respect
Page 47 and 48: Then I knew that I had been kidnapp
Page 49 and 50: Fra Palamone, all smiles, made no d
Page 51 and 52: I laughed at her. "My child," said
Page 53 and 54: stout black-eyed woman of middle ag
Page 55 and 56: For his second day's campaign, when
Page 57 and 58: "You will be attacking the wrong ma
Page 59 and 60: won't find them any more to your li
Page 61 and 62: said, "is clement, the Holy Office
Page 63 and 64: "I think your Aurelia lost her litt
Page 65 and 66: Count Giraldi had three palaces in
Page 67 and 68: lended their forces within me; thei
Page 69 and 70: "Yes, yes," she said, "I have seen
Page 71 and 72: "Well?" I asked her. "And he said t
Page 73 and 74: silk and a hoop, and had her hair o
Page 75 and 76: "Be sure of this," I said sharply,
Page 77 and 78: "You shall join one or the other of
Page 79 and 80: child? His one desire is to get rid
Page 81 and 82: We ran up the Via Vecchietta withou
Page 83 and 84: there was but one. Was I to kill Pa
Page 85 and 86:
I kissed her again, she not forbidd
Page 87 and 88:
himself to doubt my gentility. I sh
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coat of Aquamorta's servant I was n
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tailor's, the perruquier's, the bar
Page 93 and 94:
until—evil wind that he is—he b
Page 95 and 96:
She was silent for a few minutes, t
Page 97 and 98:
He was confused and, boylike, tried
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sometimes happy, sometimes acutely
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prayer and meditation, I made solem
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England imply when we speak of the
Page 105 and 106:
me and bury me alive. CHAPTER XXXVI
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"Bravo," said I, "and now, Avanti!"
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Ducal Court, authorising him to use
Page 111 and 112:
performing it." The good lad droppe
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ose from my knees. If I rode in the
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CHAPTER XLI. I RETURN TO FLORENCE A
Page 117 and 118:
Sir John looked sly. "Donna Giulia,
Page 119 and 120:
The fair Aurelia was flushed and di
Page 121 and 122:
agreed, would you have gone white a
Page 123 and 124:
Aurelia. I judged her attractive by
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and ran his blade through my sword
Page 127 and 128:
"He did, sir," said she haughtily;
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Grand Duchy, and a well-known haunt
Page 131 and 132:
eyes searched my face. "It is ours,
Page 133:
The End. World Public Library Assoc
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