The day was done, the sun had set, the scarlet flame of its afterglow
bathed all the rusty walls and dusty ground with colours of glory. The
crowd had dispersed; there was no sound in the deserted square except
the ripple of the water as it fell from the dolphins' mouths into the
marble basin. As he heard that sweet, familiar murmur of the falling
stream, the tears rose in his eyes and blotted out the flame-like pomp
and beauty of the skies. Never again would he hear the water of the
Marca river rushing, in cool autumn days, past the poplar stems and the
primrose roots upon its mossy banks; never again would he hear in the
place of his birth the grey-green waves of Arno sweeping through the
cane-brakes to the sea.
At three of the clock on the following day the judgment was given in
the court.
Generosa Fè was decreed guilty of the murder of her husband, and
sentenced to twenty years of solitary confinement. She dropped like a
stone when she heard the sentence, and was carried out from the court
insensible. Her lover, when he heard it, gave a roar of anguish like
that of some great beast in torment, and dashed his head against the
wall and struggled like a mad bull in the hands of the men who tried to
hold him. Don Gesualdo, waiting without, on the head of the staircase,
did not even change countenance; to him this bitterness, as of the
bitterness of death, had been long past; he had been long certain what
the verdict would be, and he had, many hours before, resolved on his
own part.
A great calm had come upon his soul, and his face had that tranquillity
which comes alone from a soul which is at peace within itself.
The sultry afternoon shed its yellow light on the brown and grey and
dusty town; the crowd poured out of the Court-house, excited, contrite,
voluble, pushing and bawling at one another, ready to take the side
of the condemned creature now that she was the victim of the law. The
priest alone of them all did not move; he remained sitting on the
upright chair under a sculptured allegory of Justice and Equity which
was on the arch above his head, and with the golden light of sunset
falling down on him through the high casement above. He paid no heed
to the hurrying of the crowd, to the tramp of guards, to the haste of
clerks and officials eager to finish their day's work and get away
to their wine and dominoes at the taverns. His hands mechanically
held his breviary; his lips mechanically repeated a Latin formula of
prayer. When all the people were gone, one of the custodians of the
place touched his arm, telling him that they were about to close the
doors; he raised his eyes like one who is wakened from a trance, and to
the man said quietly:
'I would see the president of the court for a moment, quite alone. Is
it possible?'
After many demurs and much delay, they brought him into the presence of
the judge, in a small chamber of the great palace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account