The Viceroys (20 page)

When Teresina was weaned, Raimondo thought of paying a visit to Sicily; and from that journey she promised herself the end of the princess's incomprehensible rancour. Instead of which she began to weep once more … Donna Teresa Uzeda, being unable to blame Raimondo for moving to remote Tuscany, had put all the blame on her daughter-in-law; her jealousy and hatred had doubled, and Matilde was even criticised for the baby's birth … How could she show that harsh woman she was wrong? How persuade her that her son, against everyone's wishes, had been determined to do what he wanted himself? Had not the baron in his simplicity said that Raimondo had gone to Florence to please Matilde?… Thus without realising it she had given her mother-in-law a new weapon; in trying to bring her husband and father together she had loosed that fury against herself …

‘Your Excellency's aunt!'

Announced by the major-domo, as dinner was about to end, Donna Ferdinanda entered. Except for the duke, all stood up, the countess with the others, but the spinster greeted all except her. A few minutes later appeared Don Blasco, whose only greeting was, ‘Still at table?' He did not even seem to notice Matilde … What, thought she, was being ignored by these compared to the war waged against her years ago by the princess? Retirement had not helped then, nor had never expressing a wish, desire, or opinion of her own; hatred had always found an outlet. The pretext then was the innocent baby who had the double fault of belonging to the despised sex and of being born from
that mother; and as the mother was resigned personally to this treatment though bleeding at the slights to her child, the princess had begun persecuting her little granddaughter with special ferocity. Raimondo had appeared to notice nothing and left her alone longer than in Florence, not considering that she was alone as long as she stayed ‘in the family', and in a short time the torment of that life had become so acute that she had begun yearning for the moment of returning to the solitude, calm at least, of her home in Florence …

‘Where's that other one?…' suddenly asked Don Blasco, snorting at his brother the duke's political lucubrations.

‘That other one' could only be Raimondo; all understood so and answered that they had not seen him and that perhaps he had stayed out to dine with a friend.

‘He could have warned …' observed the prince.

And although that observation, made in a severe tone with no regard for the presence of his wife, wounded Matilde, there was another voice inside her saying, ‘It's true! He's right!' Had she herself not thought just that, back in Florence, in the refuge which had once seemed so full of peace and felicity, during those long waits, day and night, for the return of Raimondo, who left her nearly always alone, when she had felt overwhelmed by anguish and fear at not knowing what had happened to him, always fearing dangers and disasters in her sick imagination? Her husband, on the other hand, refused to tell her anything of his life, as if he were still a bachelor, as if she had no rights over him, as if their child did not exist! That child who was to have brought them closer together, who should at least have been a refuge for the mother in times of sorrow, not only seemed to say nothing to Raimondo's heart, but could not even comfort her; now she could no longer excuse her husband's ever wilder conduct as she had at first, now she could no longer ignore his neglecting her for other women, and now this discovery made her feel a sudden stab of jealousy …

Once more her past sufferings seemed nothing compared to her present ones. She loved Raimondo more than ever, for the very defects which she had forgiven him, for all that he had cost her; and the new, brusquer remarks with which he rejected her prayers and derided her tears and almost blamed her for loving
him, drew her ever closer to him. No, the child was not enough, the little creature could not console her, no one in the world could console her, she even had to hide her agonies from her father and write him that she was happy and content, in case he came and asked Raimondo to account for his behaviour, in case the two men had an open quarrel! Once more she had pinned her hopes on a return to Sicily; the terrible Uzeda home seemed an oasis, since there at least she had been free of the suspicion that gnawed like a canker. When from Catania they wrote to Raimondo asking him to return soon, when his dying mother called him, she did all she could to induce him to leave; but seeing him deaf to the dying woman's voice, deaf even to self-interest, and remaining in Florence, her anguish had been exacerbated, so powerful did she think must be the reasons, the links which held him back … And in those very days her body was aquiver for another reason: she was to be a mother again—a cold, bad mother if she did not rejoice at this discovery. But how could she, when the father of her child caused her so much distress; when at the announcement of his being a father again he was indifferent and almost bored, as if it were just another bother?… When the telegram came announcing the princess's death, as they suddenly left she had drawn breath freely, asking the Lord to forgive her for feeling joy at a death. But the implacable aversion of his relations afflicted her once again as a sign of the unsuspected depths of human malice, and now that Raimondo, with no respect for his mother's memory, was making the whole town gossip about his wild life, she asked herself agonisingly, ‘When, where, will I have peace?…'

Dinner was already over and Lucrezia, the princess and Consalvo had already got up from table, when Raimondo appeared. He seemed very gay and had an excellent appetite. At a question from the duke he replied that he had been delayed by friends and had not noticed the late hour.

‘Anyway you dine appallingly early here! In civilised countries one doesn't go to table before the Angelus!'

The prince did not reply. He got up as his brother began devouring the
minestra
which had been kept hot for him, said to the duke, ‘Uncle, would you come with me a moment?' and led him into his study.

Very much on his dignity, as if negotiating a treaty, he locked the door of the antechamber, offered his uncle an armchair, remaining on his feet himself, and began:

‘Your Excellency must excuse me for disturbing you after dinner, but having to talk about important matters and not wanting to waste your time …'

‘Not at all!…' exclaimed the duke, interrupting this preamble. ‘You're not disturbing me at all … Go on, do say …' and he lit a cigar.

‘Your Excellency can sec every day the life Raimondo is leading,' went on the prince, ‘and how instead of giving me a hand in arranging matters of succession he thinks of nothing but amusement and leaves everything on my shoulders. To talk to him of his interests is useless; cither he won't listen or doesn't understand … or he pretends not to.'

The duke approved with a nod of the head. Privately he thought rather strange such complaints by his nephew, who should surely not be very upset at his brother taking no hand in matters of the inheritance and thus leaving him free to do as he liked. And if Raimondo showed small eagerness to take part in such matters, had his elder brother not shown even less to render any account to co-heir and legatees? Was this not the first time, maybe, that he was talking in such terms to any of the family?

‘Now,' Giacomo was going on meanwhile, ‘I think it first of all proper, in the common interest, for the division to take place as soon as possible. In the second place all should know what I've only just learnt …'

‘What's that?'

‘A fine thing!' exclaimed the prince with a bitter little smile. And after a short pause, as if preparing his uncle's mind for the sad news, he said, ‘Our mother's inheritance is full of debts …'

The duke took the cigar from his mouth in surprise.

‘Your Excellency doesn't believe it? Who ever could have thought such a thing? After hearing such praise all round for the admirable way my mother had put our family on its feet again! Instead of which it's a positive abyss!… Until the other day I suspected nothing. It's true that in the first days after the tragedy I was warned of a few small I.O.U.'s signed
by our mother, whose holders had patiently held them during her illness beyond their time of falling due, but I naturally thought that they were for small sums, the sort of petty debts which all of us, even the wealthiest, have to contract at times. What was my surprise to find instead that they come to many thousands of
onze
and that a new creditor appears every day. If things go on like this most of the inheritance will vanish in smoke …'

‘But Signor Marco …'

‘Signor Marco,' went on the prince, without giving his uncle time to formulate his objection, ‘knew less of it than I did, and is even more astounded than Your Excellency. Your Excellency well knows my mother's character, God rest her soul, and how she did whatever came into her head, hiding it not only from those who should have been her natural confidantes but even from those to whom she had given her trust … Signor Marco has not noted in his debit columns a tenth of the sums we owe now. I don't know what else will turn up. Just imagine, there are I.O.U.'s which fell due three, or four years ago, and even five!… I confess that at first I thought myself a victim, with all the others, of some ghastly fraud, of dealing with a group of forgers. But I had to think again; the signatures are there, quite genuine. So I was forced to suppose that the system of having recourse to credit, for which my mother so blamed our grandfather, was not so alien to herself. And the worst of it is one can't know how far the rot goes! This is the administration we've heard so praised!… But they say one shouldn't talk ill of the dead … so that's enough!… Now I wished to inform Your Excellency, firstly as it was my duty, and secondly so that Your Excellency could say a word to Raimondo. If these debts are to be paid, and alas there's little hope of avoiding that, each will have to take on their part. I would also like to ask Your Excellency to tell the others that their legacies too will be debited in proportion …'

The duke began nodding his head again, but with a different expression. The legatees were complaining of having had too little; now they were to be told they had even less!

‘Why don't you tell them yourself?' he suggested to his nephew.

‘Why?' went on the prince, with the slight irritation of one asked a tiresome question, ‘doesn't Your Excellency know what the family's like? Secretive, suspicious, mistrusting? Does Your Excellency think I've not noticed certain intrigues, not heard of underhand accusations being bandied about? They all seem against me, particularly that crackbrained Lucrezia!… Didn't she make another scene today?…'

‘No, no …' interrupted the duke, ‘quite the contrary, I assure you. She was complaining that you were against her and never said a word to her …'

‘Me? Why should I be against her?… I've not spoken much these last days, it's true, but can Your Excellency expect anyone to want to talk with this fine piece of news on his mind? Why should I be against her or the others? I've always thought and said that the chief thing in families is peace, union, concord!… Is it my fault that wasn't possible while our mother was alive? Your Excellency knows how I was treated … Better, much better, not talk of it!… Now, however much I've been stripped, have they heard me make a single complaint? I've been the first to say, “Our mother's wishes must be our laws!” Instead of which, what do I see? Sour looks to right and left, Raimondo refusing to take any interest in our affairs, as if punishing me for taking away half his inheritance …'

‘No, just amusing himself …' corrected the duke.

‘My uncle Don Blasco,' went on the prince, as if not hearing the observation, ‘whom I've always treated with respect and deference like all the others, instigates the legatees against me …'

‘He's merely off his head!'

‘Are the others sages, would your Excellency say? What do they want, what do they expect? What do they accuse me of? Why don't they come and tell me their reasons? Lucrezia talked to Your Excellency today; let's hear what she said …'

Although he had resolved not to keep the promise made to his niece a few hours before, the duke was forced by this question to reply, giving a little smile to temper what could only be unwelcome words:

‘You complain of being stripped, and that's what they think they have been …'

The prince replied with an even bitterer smile than before.

‘Do they indeed? And how may that be?'

‘By getting less than their due … as there's your father's part …'

Giacomo frowned a minute, then burst out with ill-contained violence:

‘Then why do they accept the Will? Why don't they demand the accounts? They'd do me a pleasure! They'd do me a service!'

‘All the better then …'

‘What do they think our mother's inheritance was anyway? Let's make up the accounts. Yessir! Let's make them up tomorrow, today! Or rather why don't they go to law then?'

‘What's that to do with it?'

‘Let 'em sue me! Let's set the whole city talking, let's give this fine example of fraternal love! Let Raimondo join 'em, and all accuse me of twisting the Will … ah! ah! ah!… They're capable of thinking that! I know them, yes, I know them! This is the result of their upbringing here, of the example they were given, of distrust and Jesuitry erected into a system.'

He was really excited, talked violently, and had quite lost the solemn composure of his preamble. The duke, throwing away his cigar-end, went on nodding as if recognising that when all was said and done he was not so far out in those last remarks. But, rising from his chair, he put a hand on his nephew's shoulder.

‘Keep calm now!' he exclaimed. ‘Don't let's exaggerate on either side. The papers are there …'