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

“Listen!” he said; “and listen all of you, Christians! If a man has killed his only son⁠—his son who loved and trusted him, who was flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone; if he has led his son into a deathtrap with lies and deceit⁠—is there hope for that man in earth or heaven? I have confessed my sin before God and man, and I have suffered the punishment that men have laid on me, and they have let me go; but when will God say, ‘It is enough’? What benediction will take away His curse from my soul? What absolution will undo this thing that I have done?”

In the dead silence that followed the people looked at Montanelli, and saw the heaving of the cross upon his breast.

He raised his eyes at last, and gave the benediction with a hand that was not quite steady.

“God is merciful,” he said. “Lay your burden before His throne; for it is written: ‘A broken and contrite heart shalt thou not despise.’ ”

He turned away and walked through the marketplace, stopping everywhere to speak to the people, and to take their children in his arms.

In the evening the Gadfly, following the directions written on the wrapping of the image, made his way to the appointed meeting-place. It was the house of a local doctor, who was an active member of the “sect.” Most of the conspirators were already assembled, and their delight at the Gadfly’s arrival gave him a new proof, if he had needed one, of his popularity as a leader.

“We’re glad enough to see you again,” said the doctor; “but we shall be gladder still to see you go. It’s a fearfully risky business, and I, for one, was against the plan. Are you quite sure none of those police rats noticed you in the marketplace this morning?”

“Oh, they n-noticed me enough, but they d-didn’t recognize me. Domenichino m-managed the thing capitally. But where is he? I don’t see him.”

“He has not come yet. So you got on all smoothly? Did the Cardinal give you his blessing?”

“His blessing? Oh, that’s nothing,” said Domenichino, coming in at the door. “Rivarez, you’re as full of surprises as a Christmas cake. How many more talents are you going to astonish us with?”

“What is it now?” asked the Gadfly languidly. He was leaning back on a sofa, smoking a cigar. He still wore his pilgrim’s dress, but the white beard and wig lay beside him.

“I had no idea you were such an actor. I never saw a thing done so magnificently in my life. You nearly moved His Eminence to tears.”

“How was that? Let us hear, Rivarez.”

The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. He was in a taciturn and laconic mood, and the others, seeing that nothing was to be got out of him, appealed to Domenichino to explain. When the scene in the marketplace had been related, one young workman, who had not joined in the laughter of the rest, remarked abruptly:

“It was very clever, of course; but I don’t see what good all this playacting business has done to anybody.”

“Just this much,” the Gadfly put in; “that I can go where I like and do what I like anywhere in this district, and not a single man, woman, or child will ever think of suspecting me. The story will be all over the place by tomorrow, and when I meet a spy he will only think: ‘It’s mad Diego, that confessed his sins in the marketplace.’ That is an advantage gained, surely.”

“Yes, I see. Still, I wish the thing could have been done without fooling the Cardinal. He’s too good to have that sort of trick played on him.”

“I thought myself he seemed fairly decent,” the Gadfly lazily assented.

“Nonsense, Sandro! We don’t want Cardinals here!” said Domenichino. “And if Monsignor Montanelli had taken that post in Rome when he had the chance of getting it, Rivarez couldn’t have fooled him.”

“He wouldn’t take it because he didn’t want to leave his work here.”

“More likely because he didn’t want to get poisoned off by Lambruschini’s agents. They’ve got something against him, you may depend upon it. When a Cardinal, especially such a popular one, ‘prefers to stay’ in a Godforsaken little hole like this, we all know what that means⁠—don’t we, Rivarez?”

The Gadfly was making smoke-rings. “Perhaps it is a c-c-case of a ‘b-b-broken and contrite heart,’ ” he remarked, leaning his head back to watch them float away. “And now, men, let us get to business.”

They began to discuss in detail the various plans which had been formed for the smuggling and concealment of weapons. The Gadfly listened with keen attention, interrupting every now and then to correct sharply some inaccurate statement or imprudent proposal. When everyone had finished speaking, he made a few practical suggestions, most of which were adopted without discussion. The meeting then broke up. It had been resolved that, at least until he was safely back in Tuscany, very late meetings, which might attract the notice of the police, should be avoided. By a little after ten o’clock all had dispersed except the doctor, the Gadfly, and Domenichino, who remained as a subcommittee for the discussion of special points. After a long and hot dispute, Domenichino looked up at the clock.

“Half-past eleven; we mustn’t stop any longer or the night-watchman may see us.”

“When does he pass?” asked the Gadfly.

“About twelve o’clock; and I want to be home before he comes. Good night, Giordani. Rivarez, shall we walk together?”

“No; I think we are safer apart. Then I shall see you again?”

“Yes; at Castel Bolognese. I don’t know yet what disguise I shall be in, but you have the password. You leave here tomorrow, I think?”

The Gadfly was carefully putting on his beard and wig before the looking-glass.

“Tomorrow morning, with the pilgrims. On the next day I fall ill and stop behind in a shepherd’s hut, and then take a shortcut across the hills. I shall be