The Fool Errant: Being the Memoirs of Francis-Anthony Strelley, Esq., Citizen of LuccaHewlett, Maurice
General
The Fool Errant: Being the Memoirs of Francis-Anthony Strelley, Esq., Citizen of Lucca
Hewlett, Maurice
Historical fiction
"The second hour of the day, it was," she replied, "when I went out to
buy milk for your chocolate. There were but two of them then. They asked
me if you were in the house. I said no. They said that you had killed a
frate, and I, that I was sure he had deserved it. One of them laughed
and said that had nothing to do with it; he had been sent there to be
killed. The other one, that black-browed fellow who stabbed his comrade,
said nothing at all, but just looked at me hard. He never took his eyes
away once, so I guessed how his barque was steering, and you saw what
wind I blew."
"I saw it, Virginia."
"And disapproved! Per esempio, you disapproved!" Tears filled her eyes.
She shrugged her shoulders, pitying herself. "Povera Virginia!" she
said.
This made me ashamed enough to say, "Dear Virginia, I know that you
acted for my safety."
"Yes, I did! Yes, I did! But I would do worse. Ah, you little know how
bad I would make myself. And you reproach me--" She was on the edge of a
frenzy, but checked herself. "What does it matter now that you are safe?
We will stop in the Sagrestia all night. They will never look for you
there."
"But, my dear," said I, "we have three hours to wait before the
Sagrestia is opened. Do you ask me to stay here, in this cloister, for
that time?"
She looked embarrassed, for the truth is that she would have asked me if
I had not spoken of it. She had forgotten that I was not of her nation.
"No, no," she said hastily, "that is ridiculous. How could I ask you to
do such a thing as that? The question!"
"I am glad of it," I returned, "because there I can't oblige you. I must
break my fast, so must you. By the time we have done, the Sagrestia may
be ready for us. Observe also that in spending the night in that place I
am obliging you, for I don't at all see why we should do it."
She searched my face with those grey eyes of hers, hunting my raillery
out. The thing above all which she dreaded was to be laughed at. She
never laughed herself, except bitterly, in anger, and hated the
indulgence. Suspecting still what she failed to find, she fell in with
my desire to eat, though she must have thought it preposterous, and me a
madman to have it. She could never understand my attachment to custom,
and never think of more than one thing at a time. Just now she was
engaged in hiding me from justice--to succeed in which task she would
have sat still for an eternity and gone without a thousand meals. What
an outcry she must have had ready for me--and how she must have loved
her hard taskmaster! She did violence to all her feelings, fell in with
my desire at once.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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