South Wind(Fiscle Part-3) by Norman Douglas (novels for students TXT) 📕

Man! And Growing More Formidable Every Day,  As His Wealth Increased.

His Income Was Already Such That He Could Afford To Be Honest; Nothing

But The Force Of Old Habits Kept Him From Developing Into A Positive

Saint.

It Stands To Reason That A Person Of This Caliber Would Have Sniffed At

A Paltry Remuneration Of Five Thousand Francs Offered By An Obscure

Country Priest. But Don Giustino Was A Good Son Of The Church. He Had

Never Forgotten The Recommendation Of His Old Patron To Succour The

Humble And Distressed; He Specialized,  As A Lawyer,  In Defending

Murderers And Rescuing Them From The Secular Arm. They Were Enthusiasts

Suffering Under A Sense Of Wrong; They Belonged To The Class Of The

Honest Poor; They Were Victims Of Governmental Greed And Social

Injustice. Motives,  Not Deeds! He Would Say. And The Motives Of The

Poor Must Be Judged By Other Standards Than Those Of The Rich. They

Have Other Lives,  Other Temptations. Trust The People. The People,

Under Proper Guidance Of The Priests. . . .

Although It Was Hardly Likely That The Great Man Would Deign To Accept

Torquemada's Invitation,  Yet Half The Town Was Assembled At The Harbour

To Await The Arrival Of The Evening Boat And Catch A Glimpse,  If

Possible,  Of The Famous Camorrista. And There He Was! He Leaned Over

The Taffrail,  Easily Recognizable From His Pictures In The Illustrated

Papers. He Was Dressed In A Felt Hat,  Brown Boots,  And Light Grey

Clothes--Just Like Anybody Else. Presently He Descended To The Quay,

Followed By A Tall And Solid-Looking Young Valet. He Was Wreathed In

Smiles. A Whiff Of Political Life,  Of Busy Deeds In The Capital,

Exhaled From His Person. The Mayor Of Nepenthe,  A Devout Catholic,

Deferentially Shook Hands And Introduced The Parroco And Other

Notabilities. They Drove Up Together. It Was All Delightfully Breezy

And Informal. But Men Were Aware That In This Little Episode There

Lurked More Than Met The Eye; That The Arrival Of Commendatore Morena

Was An Occasion Worthy To Be Chronicled In The Annals Of The Island.

Not Only Was It His First Appearance As A Deputy Among His

Constituents. That Alone Would Have Been An Event. The Avowed Purpose

Of His Visit,  To Rescue A Criminal From The Properly Constituted

Authorities,  Gave It The Character Of A Pro-Vatican Demonstration--A

Slap In The Face Of King And Constitution.

An Intimate Little Dinner Had Been Arranged By The Parish Priest In

Order To Give The Principal Clergy And A Few Favoured Laymen Of Their

Party An Opportunity Of Paying Their Respects. No One Knew What Took

Place At This Repast Save That The Distinguished Guest Was In Wonderful

Humour; He Joked And Laughed And Told Funny Stories; He Was Enchanted

With The Wine And The Excellent Local Crayfish And Announced His

Intention Of Buying A Little Villa Wherein To Spend The Evening Of His

Days,  After His Public Labours Were Over. An Ideal Spot! Lucky People,

He Called Them. It Was Most Unfortunate That He Would Be Obliged To

Leave By To-Morrow's Midday Boat,  And So Miss The Greater Part Of The

Festival Of Saint Eulalia.

Another Little Item Of News Was Allowed To Filter Out And Sedulously

Propagated,  To The Effect That The Commendatore Had Refused,  Politely

But Firmly,  To Accept Any Remuneration For His Services. Such A Thing

Could Not Be Thought Of! Pleasure And Duty Rarely Coincided As In This

Case,  Where It Was Both A Pleasure To Come To This Charming Island And

A Duty To Say A Few Words In Court About This Unfortunate Young Man--To

Defend The Oppressed To The Utmost Of His Miserable Ability,  And

Thereby Approve Himself A Good Son Of The Church.

"Your Servant In Everything!" He Added. "And If You Would Now Accept

From Me A Humble Donation Of One Thousand Francs To Be Distributed,  As

His Reverence Thinks Best,  Among The Needy Poor Of Nepenthe,  You Would

Indeed Make Me Your Debtor For Life!"

Such Was The Great Man's Speech,  As Reported. It Was A Pure Invention

On The Part Of Torquemada Who,  Being A High-Principled Ecclesiastic,

Had Clear-Cut Orthodox Views Anent The Utility Of Pious Legends. He

Knew It Would Sound Well Among The Populace. He Hoped It Would Vex The

Envious Magistrate Into A Fit Of Colic. He Argued That The Great Man

Himself,  In The Event Of Its Coming To His Ears,  Would Not Be Otherwise

Than Gratified By A Godly Fable So Strictly In Keeping With His

Character.

Don Francesco Alone,  The Smiling Terrestrial Beast,  The Lover Of Wine

And Women,  Held Aloof From The Entertainment,  Alleging A Gastric

Indisposition And Doctor's Orders. He Did Not See Eye To Eye With

Torquemada On Matters Such As These. Don Francesco Disliked All

Measures Of Violence,  Camorra Or Freemasonry,  Vatican Or

Quirinal--Disliked Them So Much That He Would Have Hated Them Had He

Been Built,  Like The Parroco,  On Hating Lines. He Was Too Unwieldy,  Too

Fond Of Life,  Too Indulgent Towards Himself And Others To Experience At

Mention Of Don Giustino's Name Anything But A Certain Feeling Of

Discomfort--A Feeling Which His Acute Intelligence,  Embedded Under Those

Rolls Of Fat,  Enabled Him To Formulate With Warmth And Precision.

"I Know Quite Well," He Said To Torquemada,  "That He Calls Himself A

Good Son Of The Church. So Much The Worse For The Church. I Understand

He Is A Prominent Member Of The Government. So Much The Worse For The

Government. And I Realize That,  But For His Intervention,  This Harmless

Individual Might Spend The Remainder Of His Life In Prison. So Much The

Worse For All Of Us,  Who Derive Justice From So Tainted A Source. As To

Dining At The Same Table With Him--No. Does Not The Whole World Know His

History? The Animal! He Would Make Me Vomit. And You Will Believe Me

When I Say,  My Dear Parroco,  That I Do Not Look My Best On Such

Occasions."

Torquemada Shook His Head,  Mournfully. It Was By No Means The First

Time That He Had Suspected His Popular Colleague Of Being A Lukewarm

Christian.

The Market-Place Was Filled To Over-Brimming. Everybody Discussed The

Near Events In The Court Of Justice. It Promised To Be A Bad Day For

Signor Malipizzo. And Yet People Could Not Help Admitting How Clever He

Had Been To Lock Up Those Russians. It Was The Best Thing He Could Have

Done Under The Circumstances. It Proved His Freedom From Anti-Catholic

Prejudices. It Made Him Look Icily Objective.

Torquemada,  On Hearing That The Prisoner's Gold Coin Corresponded With

Those Others Which Had Been In The Possession Of The Murdered Man,

Thought It Deplorable. Here Was Plain Evidence Of His Cousin's Guilt!

Most Deplorable. Still,  The Victim Being Not Only A Foreigner But A

Protestant Was A Considerable Mitigation Of The Offence From The Moral

And Religious Point Of View,  And Possibly From The Legal One As Well.

Anyhow,  What Did Legal Aspects Matter? Had He Not Engaged Don Giustino?

Innocent Or Guilty,  The Prisoner Would Be Released. And,  On Second

Thoughts,  He Discovered Him To Be Worthy Of The Great Man's Golden

Eloquence. He Was Not Altogether A Fool. There Was A Touch Of Manliness

About Him; He Was Decidedly A Brighter Lad Than He Looked. He Deserved

To Be Released.

Ten O'clock Sounded.

The Court Had Never Been So Crowded. There Was Barely Standing Room.

Sunlight Poured In Through The Windows Which Had Not Been Cleaned For

Many Long Months; The Atmosphere Was Already Rather Oppressive. It Was

A Stuffy Place At All Times,  Reeking Of Old Tobacco Smoke And Humanity.

Everybody Was Still Save The Old Grey-Headed Clerk Who Fussed About

With Papers. Signor Malipizzo,  After A Deferential But Dignified Bow To

The Famous Lawyer,  Had Taken His Seat On The Raised Platform Facing The

Public Whence He Was Wont To Dispense Justice. Nailed Against The Wall,

Directly Over His Head,  Was A Large White Paper Bearing The Printed

Words "La Legge": The Law. It Dominated The Chamber. On One Side Of

This Could Be Seen A Coloured Portrait Of The Sovereign In The

Bersagliere Uniform; A Fierce Military Glance Shot Out Of His Eyes From

Under That Helmet Whose Plume Of Nodding Feathers Made It Look Three

Sizes Too Large For His Head. On The Other Side Hung A Representation

Of The Madonna,  Simpering Benignly In A Blue Tea-Gown Besprinkled With

Pearls And Golden Lace. The Spittoon,  Which His Worship Required

Continually During The Audiences,  Was Wont To Be Placed Immediately

Below This Latter Picture; It Was The Magistrate's Polite Freemasonish

Method Of Expressing His Reverence For The Mother Of God. Everybody

Noticed That On The Present Occasion This Piece Of Furniture Was

Located Elsewhere. It Stood Below The Sovereign's Portrait. A Delicate

Compliment To The Formidable Lawyer-Champion Of Catholicism,  Sworn

Enemy To The House Of Savoy. People Commented Favourably On This Little

Detail. How Artful Of Him! They Said.

All Eyes Were Fixed Upon Don Giustino. He Sat There Quietly. If He Was

Bored He Certainly Did Not Show It. Now That He Was Here He Would Give

These Good People A Taste Of His Quality. He Knew All About The Gold

Coin; He Was Profoundly Convinced Of The Prisoner's Guilt. This Was

Lucky For The Young Man. Had He Thought Otherwise He Would Probably

Have Refused To Take Up The Case. Don Giustino Made A Point Of Never

Defending Innocent People. They Were Idiots Who Entangled Themselves In

The Meshes Of The Law; They Fully Deserved Their Fate. Really To Have

Murdered Muhlen Was The One And Only Point In The Prisoner's Favour. It

Made Him Worthy Of His Rhetorical Efforts. All His Clients Were Guilty,

And All Of Them Got Off Scot Free. "I Never Defend People I Can't

Respect," He Used To Say.

He Began His Speech In A Rambling,  Desultory Sort Of Fashion And Quite

A Low Tone Of Voice,  As If He Were Addressing A Circle Of Friends.

A Charming Place,  Nepenthe! He Would Carry Away The Pleasantest

Memories Of Its Beauty And The Kindliness Of Its Inhabitants. It Was

Like A Terrestrial Paradise,  So Verdant,  So Remote From All Danger. And

Yet Nothing On Earth Was Secure. That Volcanic Eruption The Other

Day--What A Scare It Must Have Given Them! What A Lucky Escape They Had,

Thanks To The Divine Intervention Of The Patron Saint! Hardly Any

Damage Done; No Victims Worth Mentioning. The Fertile Fields Were

Intact; Mothers And Fathers And Children Could Once More Go Out To

Their Daily Tasks And Return In The Evening,  Tired But Happy,  To Gather

Round The Family Board. Family Life,  The Sacred Hearth! It Was The

Pride,  The Strength,  The Mainstay Of The Country; It Was The Source

Whence The Rising Generation Drew Their Earliest Notions Of Piety And

Right Conduct. Nothing In The World Could Replace Home Influence,  The

Parents' Teaching And Example--Nothing! And This Poor Boy,  Now

Threatened With Imprisonment,  Had A Mother. He Had A Mother. Did The

Court Appreciate The Import Of Those Words? Did They Realize What It

Meant To Shatter That Hallowed Bond,  To Deprive The Parent Of Her

Offspring's Help And Consolation--The Child Of Its Mother's Fostering

Care? Let Them Consider The Lives Of All T Hose Great Men Of The Past

Who Were Known To Have Had Mothers--Themistocles,  Dante,  Virgil,  Peter

The Hermit And Madame De Maintenon--Why Had They Achieved Distinction In

The World? What Was The Secret Of Their Greatness? A Mother's

Affectionate Guidance In Youth. They Had Not Been Torn,  As Children,

From Her Loving Arms.

A Good Many People Were Already Sobbing. But The Orator Had Noticed

That Something Was Wrong. He Consulted A Small Scrap Of Paper And Then

Continued In The Same Conversational Tones As Before.

He Had No Mother. He Was An Orphan. An Orphan! Did The Court Realize

What It Meant? No,  He Dared Not Ask Them To Picture To Themselves All

That Was Implied In That Bitter Word. An Orphan. Nobody To Instil Those

Early Lessons Of Piety . . . To Grow Up Wild,  Neglected,  Despised. . . .

It Was Impossible For A Man To Avoid Going Astray In Such Terribly

Unnatural Conditions. Everybody Else Had Parents To Counsel And Direct

Them; He Alone Was Bereft Of