Authors: James Fenimore Cooper
Gelsomina ceased to tremble, and her mild eye brightened.
"The council is terrible," she answered, "but it must be more terrible
to desert one to whom you have vowed duty and love at the altar!"
"Hast thou the means of concealing us, kind girl," interrupted Donna
Florinda, "and canst thou, when this tumult shall be quieted, in any
manner help us to further secresy or flight?"
"Lady, I have none. Even the streets and squares of Venice are nearly
strangers to me. Santissima Maria! what would I give to know the ways of
the town as well as my cousin Annina, who passes at will from her
father's shop to the Lido, and from St. Mark's to the Rialto, as her
pleasure suits. I will send for my cousin, who will counsel us in this
fearful strait!"
"Thy cousin! Hast thou a cousin named Annina?"
"Lady, Annina. My mother's sister's child."
"The daughter of a wine-seller called Tomaso Torti?"
"Do the noble dames of the city take such heed of their inferiors! This
will charm my cousin, for she has great desires to be noted by the
great."
"And does thy cousin come hither?"
"Rarely, lady—we are not of much intimacy. I suppose Annina finds a
girl, simple and uninstructed as I, unworthy of her company. But she
will not refuse to aid us in a danger like this. I know she little loves
the Republic, for we have had words on its acts, and my cousin has been
bolder of speech about them, than befits one of her years, in this
prison."
"Gelsomina, thy cousin is a secret agent of the police, and unworthy of
thy confidence—"
"Lady!"
"I do not speak without reason. Trust me, she is employed in duties that
are unbecoming her sex, and unworthy of thy confidence."
"Noble dames, I will not say anything to do displeasure to your high
rank and present distress, but you should not urge me to think thus of
my mother's niece. You have been unhappy, and you may have cause to
dislike the Republic, and you are safe here—but I do not desire to hear
Annina censured."
Both Donna Florinda and her less experienced pupil knew enough of human
nature, to consider this generous incredulity as a favorable sign of the
integrity of her who manifested it, and they wisely contented themselves
with stipulating that Annina should on no account be made acquainted
with their situation. After this understanding, the three discussed more
leisurely the prospect of the fugitives being able to quit the place,
when ready, without detection.
At the suggestion of the governess, a servitor of the prison was sent
out by Gelsomina, to observe the state of the square. He was
particularly charged, though in a manner to avoid suspicion, to search
for a Carmelite of the order of the bare-footed friars. On his return,
the menial reported that the mob had quitted the court of the palace,
and was gone to the cathedral, with the body of the fisherman who had so
unexpectedly gained the prize in the regatta of the preceding day.
"Repeat your aves and go to sleep, Bella Gelsomina," concluded the
sub-keeper, "for the fishermen have left off shouting to say their
prayers. Per Diana! The bare-headed and bare-legged rascals are as
impudent as if St. Mark were their inheritance! The noble patricians
should give them a lesson in modesty, by sending every tenth knave among
them to the galleys. Miscreants! to disturb the quiet of an orderly town
with their vulgar complaints!"
"But thou hast said nothing of the friar; is he with the rioters?"
"There is a Carmelite at the altar—but my blood boiled at seeing such
vagabonds disturb the peace of respectable persons, and I took little
note of his air or years."
"Then thou failedst to do the errand on which I sent thee. It is now too
late to repair thy fault. Thou canst return to thy charge."
"A million pardons, Bellissima Gelsomina, but indignation is the
uppermost feeling, when one in office sees his rights attacked by the
multitude. Send me to Corfu, or to Candia, if you please, and I will
bring back the color of every stone in their prisons, but do not send me
among rebels. My gorge rises at the sight of villany!"
As the keeper's daughter withdrew, while her father's assistant was
making this protestation of loyalty, the latter was compelled to give
vent to the rest of his indignation in a soliloquy.
One of the tendencies of oppression is to create a scale of tyranny,
descending from those who rule a state, to those who domineer over a
single individual. He, who has been much accustomed to view men, need
not be told that none are so arrogant with their inferiors, as those who
are oppressed by their superiors; for poor human nature has a secret
longing to revenge itself on the weak for all the injuries it receives
from the strong. On the other hand, no class is so willing to render
that deference, when unexacted, which is the proper meed of virtue, and
experience, and intelligence, as he who knows that he is fortified on
every side against innovations on his natural rights. Thus it is, that
there is more security against popular violence and popular insults in
these free states, than in any other country on earth, for there is
scarcely a citizen so debased as not to feel that, in assuming the
appearance of a wish to revenge the chances of fortune, he is making an
undue admission of inferiority.
Though the torrent may be pent up and dammed by art, it is with the
constant hazard of breaking down the unnatural barriers; but left to its
own course, it will become the tranquil and the deep stream, until it
finally throws off its superfluous waters into the common receptacle of
the ocean.
When Gelsomina returned to her visitors, it was with a report favorable
to their tranquillity. The riot in the court of the palace, and the
movement of the Dalmatians, had drawn all eyes in another direction; and
although some errant gaze might have witnessed their entrance into the
gate of the prison, it was so natural a circumstance, that no one would
suspect females of their appearance of remaining there an instant longer
than was necessary. The momentary absence of the few servants of the
prison, who took little heed of those who entered the open parts of the
building, and who had been drawn away by curiosity, completed their
security. The humble room they were in was exclusively devoted to the
use of their gentle protector, and there was scarcely a possibility of
interruption, until the council had obtained the leisure and the means
of making use of those terrible means, which rarely left anything it
wished to know concealed.
With this explanation Donna Violetta and her companion were greatly
satisfied. It left them leisure to devise means for their flight, and
kindled a hope, in the former, of being speedily restored to Don
Camillo. Still there existed the cruel embarrassment of not possessing
the means of acquainting the latter with their situation. As the tumult
ceased, they resolved to seek a boat, avored by such disguises as the
means of Gelsomina could supply, and to row to his palace; but
reflection convinced Donna Florinda of the danger of such a step, since
the Neapolitan was known to be surrounded by the agents of the police.
Accident, which is more effectual than stratagem in defeating intrigues,
had thrown them into a place of momentary security, and it would be to
lose the vantage-ground of their situation to cast themselves, without
the utmost caution, into the hazards of the public canals.
At length the governess bethought her of turning the services of the
gentle creature, who had already shown so much sympathy in their behalf,
to account. During the revelations of her pupil, the feminine instinct
of Donna Florinda had enabled her to discover the secret springs which
moved the unpractised feelings of their auditor. Gelsomina had listened
to the manner in which Don Camillo had thrown himself into the canal to
save the life of Violetta, with breathless admiration; her countenance
was a pure reflection of her thoughts, when the daughter of Tiepolo
spoke of the risks he had run to gain her love, and woman glowed in
every lineament of her mild face, when the youthful bride touched on the
nature of the engrossing tie which had united them, and which was far
too holy to be severed by the Senate's policy.
"If we had the means of getting our situation to the ears of Don
Camillo," said the governess, "all might yet be saved; else will this
happy refuge in the prison avail us nothing."
"Is the cavalier of too stout a heart to shrink before those up above?"
demanded Gelsomina.
"He would summon the people of his confidence, and ere the dawn of day
we might still be beyond their power. Those calculating senators will
deal with the vows of my pupil as if they were childish oaths, and set
the anger of the Holy See itself at defiance, when there is question of
their interest."
"But the sacrament of marriage is not of man; that, at least, they will
respect!"
"Believe it not. There is no obligation so solemn as to be respected,
when their policy is concerned. What are the wishes of a girl, or what
the happiness of a solitary and helpless female, to their fortunes? That
my charge is young, is a reason why their wisdom should interfere,
though it is none to touch their hearts with the reflection that the
misery to which they would condemn her, is to last the longer. They take
no account of the solemn obligations of gratitude; the ties of affection
are so many means of working upon the fears of those they rule, but none
for forbearance; and they laugh at the devotedness of woman's love, as a
folly to amuse their leisure, or to take off the edge of disappointment
in graver concerns."
"Can anything be more grave than wedlock, lady?"
"To them it is important, as it furnishes the means of perpetuating
their honors and their proud names. Beyond this, the council looks
little at domestic interests."
"They are fathers and husbands!"
"True, for to be legally the first, they must become the last. Marriage
to them is not a tie of sacred and dear affinity, but the means of
increasing their riches and of sustaining their names," continued the
governess, watching the effect of her words on the countenance of the
guileless girl. "They call marriages of affection children's games, and
they deal with the wishes of their own daughters, as they would traffic
with their commodities of commerce. When a state sets up an idol of gold
as its god, few will refuse to sacrifice at its altar!"
"I would I might serve the noble Donna Violetta!"
"Thou art too young, good Gelsomina, and I fear too little practised in
the cunning of Venice."
"Doubt me not, lady; for I can do my duty like another, in a good
cause."
"If it were possible to convey to Don Camillo Monforte a knowledge of
our situation—but thou art too inexperienced for the service!"
"Believe it not, Signora," interrupted the generous Gelsomina, whose
pride began to stimulate her natural sympathies with one so near her own
age, and one too, like herself, subject to that passion which engrosses
a female heart. "I may be apter than my appearance would give reason to
think."
"I will trust thee, kind girl, and if the Sainted Virgin protects us,
thy fortunes shall not be forgotten!"
The pious Gelsomina crossed herself, and, first acquainting her
companions with her intentions, she went within to prepare herself,
while Donna Florinda penned a note, in terms so guarded as to defy
detection in the event of accident, but which might suffice to let the
lord of St. Agata understand their present situation.
In a few minutes the keeper's daughter reappeared. Her ordinary attire,
which was that of a modest Venetian maiden of humble condition, needed
no concealment; and the mask, an article of dress which none in that
city were without, effectually disguised her features. She then received
the note, with the name of the street, and the palace she was to seek, a
description of the person of the Neapolitan, with often-repeated
cautions to be wary, and departed.
"Which is the wiser here?—Justice or iniquity?"
MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
In the constant struggle between the innocent and the artful, the latter
have the advantage, so long as they confine themselves to familiar
interests. But the moment the former conquer their disgust for the study
of vice, and throw themselves upon the protection of their own high
principles, they are far more effectually concealed from the
calculations of their adversaries than if they practised the most
refined of their subtle expedients. Nature has given to every man enough
of frailty to enable him to estimate the workings of selfishness and
fraud, but her truly privileged are those who can shroud their motives
and intentions in a degree of justice and disinterestedness, which
surpass the calculations of the designing. Millions may bow to the
commands of a conventional right, but few, indeed, are they who know how
to choose in novel and difficult cases. There is often a mystery in
virtue. While the cunning of vice is no more than a pitiful imitation of
that art which endeavors to cloak its workings in the thin veil of
deception, the other, in some degree, resembles the sublimity of
infallible truth.
Thus men too much practised in the interests of life, constantly
overreach themselves when brought in contact with the simple and
intelligent; and the experience of every day proves that, as there is no
fame permanent which is not founded on virtue, so there is no policy
secure which is not bottomed on the good of the whole. Vulgar minds may
control the concerns of a community so long as they arc limited to
vulgar views; but woe to the people who confide on great emergencies in
any but the honest, the noble, the wise, and the philanthropic; for
there is no security for success when the meanly artful control the
occasional and providential events which regenerate a nation. More than
half the misery which has defeated as well as disgraced civilization,
proceeds from neglecting to use those great men that are always created
by great occasions.