A House-Party, Don Gesualdo, and A Rainy JuneOuida
General
A House-Party, Don Gesualdo, and A Rainy June
Ouida
English fiction
Candida glanced at him anxiously from time to time, haunted by she could
not have said what,--a vague presentiment of ill. His face looked very
strange, she thought, and his closely-locked lips were white as the lips
of a corpse. When the diligence was driven over the stones of the town,
all the passengers by it descended at the first wine-house which they
saw on the piazza, to eat and drink; but he, with never a word, motioned
his housekeeper aside when she would have pressed food on him, and went
into the great church of the place to pray alone.
The town was hot and dusty and sparsely peopled. It had brown walls and
large brick palaces untenanted, and ancient towers, also of brick,
pointing high to heaven. It was a place dear to the memory of lovers of
art for the sake of some fine paintings of the Sienese school which hung
in its churches, and was occasionally visited by strangers for sake of
these; but for the most part it was utterly forgotten by the world; and
its bridge of many arches, said to have been built by Augustus, seldom
resounded to any other echoes than those of the heavy wheels of the
hay- or corn-wagons coming in from the pastoral country around.
The court-house, where all great trials took place, stood in one of the
bare, silent, dusty squares of the town. It had once been the ancient
palace of the podestà, and had the machicolated walls, the turreted
towers, and the vast stairways and frescoed chambers of a larger and
statelier time than ours. The hall of justice was a vast chamber
pillared with marble, vaulted and painted, sombre and grand: it was
closely thronged with country-folks; there was a scent of hay, of
garlic, of smoking pipes hastily thrust into trouser-pockets, of
unwashed flesh steaming hotly in the crowd and the close air. The judge
was there with his officers, a Renaissance figure in black square cap
and black gown. The accused was behind the cage assigned to such
prisoners, guarded by carabineers and by the jailers. Gesualdo looked in
once from a distant door-way; then, with a noise in his ears like the
sound of the sea, and a deadly sickness on him, he stayed without in the
audience-chamber, where a breath of air came to him up one of the
staircases, there waiting until his name was called.
The trial began. Everything was the same as it had been in the
preliminary examination which had preceded her committal on the charge
of murder. The same depositions were made now that had then been made.
In the interval, the people of Marca had forgotten a good deal, so added
somewhat of their own invention to make up for the deficiency; but, on
the whole, the testimony was the same, given with that large looseness
of statement and absolute indifference to fact so characteristic of the
Italian mind, the judge, from habit, sifting the chaff from the wheat in
the evidence with unerring skill, and following with admirable patience
the tortuous windings and the hazy imagination of the peasants he
examined.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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