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

I will go straight up to the fortress. Good evening, colonel; you may expect my answer tomorrow morning.” VI

Hearing the cell-door unlocked, the Gadfly turned away his eyes with languid indifference. He supposed that it was only the Governor, coming to worry him with another interrogation. Several soldiers mounted the narrow stair, their carbines clanking against the wall; then a deferential voice said: “It is rather steep here, Your Eminence.”

He started convulsively, and then shrank down, catching his breath under the stinging pressure of the straps.

Montanelli came in with the sergeant and three guards.

“If Your Eminence will kindly wait a moment,” the sergeant began nervously, “one of my men will bring a chair. He has just gone to fetch it. Your Eminence will excuse us⁠—if we had been expecting you, we should have been prepared.”

“There is no need for any preparation. Will you kindly leave us alone, sergeant; and wait at the foot of the stairs with your men?”

“Yes, Your Eminence. Here is the chair; shall I put it beside him?”

The Gadfly was lying with closed eyes; but he felt that Montanelli was looking at him.

“I think he is asleep, Your Eminence,” the sergeant was beginning, but the Gadfly opened his eyes.

“No,” he said.

As the soldiers were leaving the cell they were stopped by a sudden exclamation from Montanelli; and, turning back, saw that he was bending down to examine the straps.

“Who has been doing this?” he asked. The sergeant fumbled with his cap.

“It was by the Governor’s express orders, Your Eminence.”

“I had no idea of this, Signor Rivarez,” Montanelli said in a voice of great distress.

“I told Your Eminence,” the Gadfly answered, with his hard smile, “that I n-n-never expected to be patted on the head.”

“Sergeant, how long has this been going on?”

“Since he tried to escape, Your Eminence.”

“That is, nearly a week? Bring a knife and cut these off at once.”

“May it please Your Eminence, the doctor wanted to take them off, but Colonel Ferrari wouldn’t allow it.”

“Bring a knife at once.” Montanelli had not raised his voice, but the soldiers could see that he was white with anger. The sergeant took a clasp-knife from his pocket, and bent down to cut the arm-strap. He was not a skilful-fingered man; and he jerked the strap tighter with an awkward movement, so that the Gadfly winced and bit his lip in spite of all his self-control. Montanelli came forward at once.

“You don’t know how to do it; give me the knife.”

“Ah-h-h!” The Gadfly stretched out his arms with a long, rapturous sigh as the strap fell off. The next instant Montanelli had cut the other one, which bound his ankles.

“Take off the irons, too, sergeant; and then come here. I want to speak to you.”

He stood by the window, looking on, till the sergeant threw down the fetters and approached him.

“Now,” he said, “tell me everything that has been happening.”

The sergeant, nothing loath, related all that he knew of the Gadfly’s illness, of the “disciplinary measures,” and of the doctor’s unsuccessful attempt to interfere.

“But I think, Your Eminence,” he added, “that the colonel wanted the straps kept on as a means of getting evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“Yes, Your Eminence; the day before yesterday I heard him offer to have them taken off if he”⁠—with a glance at the Gadfly⁠—“would answer a question he had asked.”

Montanelli clenched his hand on the windowsill, and the soldiers glanced at one another: they had never seen the gentle Cardinal angry before. As for the Gadfly, he had forgotten their existence; he had forgotten everything except the physical sensation of freedom. He was cramped in every limb; and now stretched, and turned, and twisted about in a positive ecstasy of relief.

“You can go now, sergeant,” the Cardinal said. “You need not feel anxious about having committed a breach of discipline; it was your duty to tell me when I asked you. See that no one disturbs us. I will come out when I am ready.”

When the door had closed behind the soldiers, he leaned on the windowsill and looked for a while at the sinking sun, so as to leave the Gadfly a little more breathing time.

“I have heard,” he said presently, leaving the window, and sitting down beside the pallet, “that you wish to speak to me alone. If you feel well enough to tell me what you wanted to say, I am at your service.”

He spoke very coldly, with a stiff, imperious manner that was not natural to him. Until the straps were off, the Gadfly was to him simply a grievously wronged and tortured human being; but now he recalled their last interview, and the deadly insult with which it had closed. The Gadfly looked up, resting his head lazily on one arm. He possessed the gift of slipping into graceful attitudes; and when his face was in shadow no one would have guessed through what deep waters he had been passing. But, as he looked up, the clear evening light showed how haggard and colourless he was, and how plainly the trace of the last few days was stamped on him. Montanelli’s anger died away.

“I am afraid you have been terribly ill,” he said. “I am sincerely sorry that I did not know of all this. I would have put a stop to it before.”

The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. “All’s fair in war,” he said coolly. “Your Eminence objects to straps theoretically, from the Christian standpoint; but it is hardly fair to expect the colonel to see that. He, no doubt, would prefer not to try them on his own skin⁠—which is j-j-just my case. But that is a matter of p-p-personal convenience. At this moment I am undermost⁠—w-w-what would you have? It is very kind of Your Eminence, though, to call here; but perhaps that was done from the C-c-christian standpoint, too. Visiting prisoners⁠—ah, yes! I forgot. ‘Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the l-least of these’⁠—it’s not very complimentary, but one of the least is duly