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 servant, an old one of Donna Giulia's, who knew me well by sight,
had grimaced pleasantly as he saluted. "Buon di, signoria," he had said,
and "Servitore del 'lustrissimo." The padrona, he felt sure, was in the
house, and the Excellency of the count was paying a visit. Let the
'lustrissimo accommodate himself, take repose, walk in the garden, do
his perfect pleasure. In two little moments the padrona should be
informed. With that he had gone away, leaving a volley of nods, winks
and exclamations behind him. The windows stood open, the hour, the
season invited. I saw the long, velvety vista of the cypress avenue, the
slender feathers of trees in young leaf, the pleasantness of the grass,
heard the invitation of a calling thrush, thought poignantly of
Virginia, and went out, hoping to see her spirit there.
I paced the well-remembered long avenue to where it opened into a circle
to meet two others. A sun-dial stood here in the midst and marked a
point from which you could look three ways--behind you to the house, to
the right and to the left. I chose for the right, and sauntered slowly
towards the statue of the Dancing Faun, which closed that particular
alley.
Strange, indeed, it was to be within the personal circle of Donna
Aurelia, and undisturbed! But I did not realise then how near her I was.
The sound of voices in debate broke in upon my meditations--a woman's
clear "No, no. At this hour, no!" and a man's, which urged, "Signora, if
my devotion--" I knew both voices--the woman's was not to be mistaken.
Aurelia was there--the divine Aurelia--close at hand. Without thinking
what I did, I took a strong breath and stepped forward to my task. I
reached the statue of the faun, which leered and writhed its leathery
tongue at me; and in the bay which opened out beyond it I found Aurelia
and the count together.
The fair Aurelia was flushed and disarrayed. Her hair was half uncoiled,
her bodice undone. She lay, or rather reclined, upon a garden seat; one
hand was clapped to her side, one hand guarded her bosom. The count, who
had his back to me, was upon one knee before her. He was, or had been,
eloquent. At the moment of my appearance he had finished his period, and
still trembled with the passion of it. For the cynic philosopher he
professed to be, he was, at the moment, singularly without relish of the
humours of his position.
Coming upon all this, I stopped suddenly short. Aurelia saw me, and
uttered a cry. At the same instant her hands were busy with her dress.
The count, on his feet in a moment, turned his head, started violently,
then controlled himself, and advanced to meet me, whom he had once
called his friend.
"My dear Don Francis," he said briskly, "let me be one of the first to
welcome you. I had heard of your arrival only to-day--indeed, I came
here to prepare Donna Aurelia for a pleasant surprise. I believe I was
being eloquent on your account at this moment. You may have overheard
me--if I was too partial, blame my esteem."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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