The Gadfly by Ethel Voynich (top fiction books of all time .txt) 📕

“For my part,” said Riccardo; “what I wanted to talk to you about is this very question. It occurred to me that we could hardly do better than ask Rivarez to undertake the management of our own smuggling. That press at Pistoja is very inefficiently managed, to my thinking; and the way the leaflets are taken across, always rolled in those everlasting cigars, is more than primitive.”

“It has answered pretty well up till now,” said Martini contumaciously. He was getting wearied of hearing Galli and Riccardo always put the Gadfly forward as a model to copy, and inclined to think that the world had gone well enough before this “lackadaisical buccaneer” turned up to set everyone to rights.

“It has answered so far well that we have been satisfied with it for want of anything better; but you know there have been plenty of arrests and confiscations. Now I believe that if Rivarez undertook the business for us, there would be less of that.”

“Why do you think so?”

“In the first place, the smugglers look upon us as strangers to do business with, or as sheep to fleece, whereas Rivarez is their personal friend, very likely their leader, whom they look up to and trust. You may be sure every smuggler in the Apennines will do for a man who was in the Savigno revolt what he will not do for us. In the next place, there’s hardly a man among us that knows the mountains as Rivarez does. Remember, he has been a fugitive among them, and knows the smugglers’ paths by heart. No smuggler would dare to cheat him, even if he wished to, and no smuggler could cheat him if he dared to try.”

“Then is your proposal that we should ask him to take over the whole management of our literature on the other side of the frontier⁠—distribution, addresses, hiding-places, everything⁠—or simply that we should ask him to put the things across for us?”

“Well, as for addresses and hiding-places, he probably knows already all the ones that we have and a good many more that we have not. I don’t suppose we should be able to teach him much in that line. As for distribution, it’s as the others prefer, of course. The important question, to my mind, is the actual smuggling itself. Once the books are safe in Bologna, it’s a comparatively simple matter to circulate them.”

“For my part,” said Martini, “I am against the plan. In the first place, all this about his skilfulness is mere conjecture; we have not actually seen him engaged in frontier work and do not know whether he keeps his head in critical moments.”

“Oh, you needn’t have any doubt of that!” Riccardo put in. “The history of the Savigno affair proves that he keeps his head.”

“And then,” Martini went on; “I do not feel at all inclined, from what little I know of Rivarez, to entrust him with all the party’s secrets. He seems to me featherbrained and theatrical. To give the whole management of a party’s contraband work into a man’s hands is a serious matter. Fabrizi, what do you think?”

“If I had only such objections as yours, Martini,” replied the professor, “I should certainly waive them in the case of a man really possessing, as Rivarez undoubtedly does, all the qualifications Riccardo speaks of. For my part, I have not the slightest doubt as to either his courage, his honesty, or his presence of mind; and that he knows both mountains and mountaineers we have had ample proof. But there is another objection. I do not feel sure that it is only for the smuggling of pamphlets he goes into the mountains. I have begun to doubt whether he has not another purpose. This is, of course, entirely between ourselves. It is a mere suspicion. It seems to me just possible that he is in connection with some one of the sects, and perhaps with the most dangerous of them.”

“Which one do you mean⁠—the ‘Red Girdles’?”

“No; the ‘Occoltellatori.’ ”

“The ‘Knifers’! But that is a little body of outlaws⁠—peasants, most of them, with neither education nor political experience.”

“So were the insurgents of Savigno; but they had a few educated men as leaders, and this little society may have the same. And remember, it’s pretty well known that most of the members of those more violent sects in the Romagna are survivors of the Savigno affair, who found themselves too weak to fight the Churchmen in open insurrection, and so have fallen back on assassination. Their hands are not strong enough for guns, and they take to knives instead.”

“But what makes you suppose Rivarez to be connected with them?”

“I don’t suppose, I merely suspect. In any case, I think we had better find out for certain before we entrust our smuggling to him. If he attempted to do both kinds of work at once he would injure our party most terribly; he would simply destroy its reputation and accomplish nothing. However, we will talk of that another time. I wanted to speak to you about the news from Rome. It is said that a commission is to be appointed to draw up a project for a municipal constitution.”

Gemma and the Gadfly walked silently along the Lung’Arno. His feverish talkativeness seemed to have quite spent itself; he had hardly spoken a word since they left Riccardo’s door, and Gemma was heartily glad of his silence. She always felt embarrassed in his company, and today more so than usual, for his strange behaviour at the committee meeting had greatly perplexed her.

By the Uffizi palace he suddenly stopped and turned to her.

“Are you tired?”

“No; why?”

“Nor especially busy this evening?”

“No.”

“I want to ask a favour of you; I want you to come for a walk with me.”

“Where to?”

“Nowhere in particular; anywhere you like.”

“But what for?”

He hesitated.

“I⁠—can’t tell you⁠—at least, it’s very difficult; but please come if you can.”

He raised his eyes suddenly from the ground, and she saw how