THE FOOL ERRANT - World eBook Library - World Public Library

up a hideous indictment, made up, as the reader will perceive, out of his own wicked imagination. I was a runaway from the
Venetian galleys, an actor of execrable life. I had seduced a Sienese nun in Padua, and brought her with me into Tuscany to
sow contempt of the sacraments, and rebellion against the reigning house. I had openly advocated the worship of Priapus, had
spurned the marriage vow, had called one of the reigning house a tyrant, and was an apologist of the Paterini. He concluded by
saying that the Holy Office was deliberating upon my case, and that he could not invite the Jesuits to hope for my conversion,
since I openly boasted of being a comedian, and of my preference for that deplorable way of life. The Holy Office asked that I
might be kept apart from any whom my conversation might contaminate, and that my punishment should be exemplary as well
as remedial. To all of which Father Carnesecchi replied, "Altto, altro, caro fratello," and got rid of his monitor as soon as he
could. I was not conscious that he had given me a single glance of the eye, did not suppose that he knew or cared whether I
stood ashamed, sullen, indifferent or indignant under my accuser's blows. Anger possessed me altogether, and if I thought of my
new gaoler at all it was to suppose him seeing in me a subject, common in his experience, whose degrading punishment of
stocks, whip or pillory was to be stuccoed over with a mockery of religion. Judge, therefore, of my surprise when, having
bowed the inquisitor out of the door, Father Carnesecchi returned to the room, and putting his hand upon my shoulder, said in
excellent English, and the tone of a loving parent, "And now, my poor boy, let me have the truth." The unexpected kindness, the
charity, the unexpected, beloved speech unnerved me. I flushed, stammered some foolish protest, burst into tears. The good
Jesuit let my emotion have its fling.
Kneeling then at his knees, with my hands folded in his, I told him the whole of my story, hiding nothing at all, not even Virginia's
ruse for obtaining sight and speech with Aurelia, supposing her to be in the Sienese convent. Having laid bare every recess of
my recent life, and not spared myself either in the recital, I went on to say that whatever might come of it, I must never abandon
my search for the lovely, hapless, innocent Aurelia; for, as I assured him in conclusion, and undoubtedly believed, unless I found
Aurelia and received her pardon, I should die; and there was no justice under Heaven if a man, sincerely repentant, were
suffered to expire unredeemed.
"My son," said Father Carnesecchi, who had nodded his way through an harangue which I had (I can assure the reader) treated
very summarily indeed, "it was in a good hour that you were led to me; for I am in a position to be of service to you. I am no
stranger to your country, nor indeed to your ancient house. Many times have I said Mass in that of your mother's family—the
noble house of Arundell. I shall be able, therefore, to make a good case for you with your resident at this Court; I can
recommend you to a banker, I can extenuate (so far as truth will allow) your follies to your parents, and I can give you
absolution when you have done a proper penance. All these things I will do, but on conditions. My first is that you write
respectfully and penitently to your father; my next that you do the same duty to the outraged Professor Lanfranchi, and my third
that you leave your Donna Aurelia to me. Am I clear?" "Father," I said, "you are as clear as the light of Heaven. I agree to all
your conditions, but shall beg of you one thing—and that is, that you do not prevent my seeing her once more."
"I prevent nothing reasonable," replied the Jesuit; "but I will ask you this question. Has it ever occurred to you that as this lady
never desired your ill-considered advances in the first place, so she may prefer to be without a renewal of them? It is possible
that she is not greatly obliged to you for having turned her away from house and man."
I was surprised, I confess, at his lack of discernment. I had hoped, I said, that I had made clear the one thing, above all, which I
ardently desired, namely, Aurelia's reconciliation with the doctor.
"And do you imagine," said he, "that your seeing her will hasten that consummation?"
I said, "I cannot suppose that it will retard it. If a gentleman has offended a lady, should he not beg her pardon?"
"You are pitching your pipe in a more reasonable key, my son," said the Jesuit. "I am glad you have left your sophistries, for to
tell you the truth I have heard them so often that I have ceased to give them all the attention which their utterers expect. The less
you see of your pretty lady the better, in my opinion. Have you given any consideration to what may be Dr. Lanfranchi's
opinions? He is likely to have strong ones, from what you tell me of him."
I said that he had been monstrous unjust, to doubt Aurelia in the face of my action.
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