LITMIR.BIZ

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the insults which her husband did not seem to mind; for the fear of the people could not stop their sarcasms, and when any member of the household was seen he was assailed with taunts and jeers; Caterina herself had to listen to scornful laughs as she passed by, and the town was ringing with a song about the Count. It was whispered that Girolamo's little son, Ottaviano, had been heard singing it in ignorance of its meaning, and had been nearly killed by his father in a passion of rage. Evil reports began to circulate about Caterina's virtue; it was supposed that she would not keep faithful to such a husband, and another song was made in praise of cuckoldry.

      The Orsi would not be persuaded that this calm was to be believed in. Checco was assured that Girolamo must have some scheme on hand, and the quiet and silence seemed all the more ominous.

      The Count very rarely appeared in Forli; but one Saint's day he went to the Cathedral, and as he came back to the Palace, passing through the piazza, saw Checco. At the same moment Checco saw him, and stopped, uncertain what to do. The crowd suddenly became silent, and they stood still like statues petrified by a magic spell. What was going to happen? Girolamo himself hesitated a moment; a curious spasm crossed his face. Checco made as if to walk on, pretending not to notice the Count. Matteo and I were dumbfounded, absolutely at a loss. Then the Count stepped forward, and held out his hand.

      'Ah, my Checco! how goes it?'

      He smiled and pressed warmly the hand which the Orsi gave him. Checco was taken aback, pale as if the hand he held were the hand of death.

      'You have neglected me of late, dear friend,' said the Count.

      'I have not been well, my lord.'

      Girolamo linked his arm in Checco's.

      'Come, come,' he said, 'you must not be angry because I used sharp words to you the other day. You know I am hot-tempered.'

      'You have a right to say what you please.'

      'Oh, no; I have only a right to say pleasant things.'

      He smiled, but all the time the mobile eyes were shifting here and there, scrutinising Checco's face, giving occasional quick glances to me and Matteo. He went on,—

      'You must show a forgiving spirit.' Then, to Matteo, 'We must all be good Christians if we can, eh, Matteo?'

      'Of course!'

      'And yet your cousin bears malice.'

      'No, my lord,' said Checco. 'I am afraid I was too outspoken.'

      'Well, if you were, I have forgiven you, and you must forgive me. But we will not talk of that. My children have been asking for you. It is strange that this ferocious creature, who tells me I am the worst among bad men, should be so adored by my children. Your little godson is always crying for you.'

      'Dear child!' said Checco.

      'Come and see them now. There is no time like the present.'

      Matteo and I looked at one another. Was all this an attempt to get him in his hand, and this time not to let him go?

      'I must pray you to excuse me, for I have some gentlemen coming to dine with me to-day, and I fear I shall be late already.'

      Girolamo gave us a rapid look, and evidently saw in our eyes something of our thoughts, for he said good-humouredly,—

      'You never will do anything for me, Checco. But I won't keep you; I respect the duties of hospitality. However, another day you must come.'

      He warmly pressed Checco's hand, and, nodding to Matteo and me, left us.

      The crowd had not been able to hear what was said, but they had seen the cordiality, and as soon as Girolamo disappeared behind the Palace doors, broke out into murmurs of derision. The Christian sentiment clearly gained little belief from them, and they put down the Count's act to fear. It was clear, they said, that he found Checco too strong for him, and dared nothing. It was a discovery that the man they had so feared was willing to turn the other cheek when the one was smitten, and to all their former hate they added a new hate that he had caused them terror without being terrible. They hated him now for their own pusillanimity. The mocking songs gained force, and Girolamo began to be known as Cornuto, the Man of Horns.

      Borne on this wave of contempt came another incident, which again showed the Count's weakness. On the Sunday following his meeting with Checco, it was known that Girolamo meant to hear mass at the church of San Stefano, and Jacopo Ronchi, commander of a troop, stationed himself, with two other soldiers, to await him. When the Count appeared, accompanied by his wife and children and his suite, Jacopo pressed forward and, throwing himself on his knees, presented a petition, in which he asked for the arrears of pay of himself and his fellows. The Count took it without speaking, and pursued his way. Then Jacopo took hold of his legs to stop him, and said,—

      'For Heaven's sake, my lord, give me a hearing. I and these others have received nothing for months, and we are starving.'

      'Let me go,' said the Count, 'your claim shall be attended to.'

      'Do not dismiss me, my lord. I have presented three petitions before, and to none of them have you paid attention. Now I am getting desperate, and can wait no longer. Look at my tattered clothes. Give me my money!'

      'Let me go, I tell you,' said Girolamo, furiously, and he gave him a sweeping blow, so that the man fell on his back to the ground. 'How dare you come and insult me here in the public place! By God! I cannot keep my patience much longer.'

      He brought out these words with such violence of passion that it seemed as if in them exploded the anger which had been gathering up through this time of humiliation. Then, turning furiously on the people, he almost screamed,—

      'Make way!'

      They dared not face his anger, and with white faces, shrunk back, leaving a path for him and his party to walk through.

      XII

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       I looked at these events as I might have looked at a comedy of Plautus; it was very amusing, but perhaps a little vulgar. I was wrapped up in my own happiness, and I had forgotten Nemesis.

      One day, perhaps two months from my arrival in Forli, I heard Checco tell his cousin that a certain Giorgio dall' Aste had returned. I paid no particular attention to the remark; but later, when I was alone with Matteo, it occurred to me that I had not heard before of this person. I did not know that Giulia had relations on her husband's side. I asked,—

      'By the way, who is that Giorgio dall' Aste, of whom Checco was speaking?'

      'A cousin of Donna Giulia's late husband.'

      'I have never heard him spoken of before.'

      'Haven't you? He enjoys quite a peculiar reputation, as being the only lover that the virtuous Giulia has kept for more than ten days.'

      'Another of your old wives' tales, Matteo! Nature intended you for a begging friar.'

      'I have often thought I have missed my vocation. With my brilliant gift for telling lies in a truthful manner, I should have made my way in the Church to the highest dignities. Whereas, certain antiquated notions of honour having been instilled into me during my training as a soldier, my gifts are lost; with the result, that when I tell the truth people think I am lying. But this is solemn truth!'

      'All your stories are!' I jeered.

      'Ask anyone. This has been going on for years. When Giulia was married by old Tommaso, whom she had never seen in her life before the betrothal, the first thing she did was to fall in love with Giorgio. He fell in love with her, but being a fairly honest sort of man, he had some scruples about committing adultery with his cousin's wife, especially as he lived on his cousin's money. However, when a woman is vicious, a man's scruples soon go to the devil. If Adam couldn't refuse the apple, you can't expect us poor fallen creatures to do so either. The result was that Joseph did not run away from Potiphar's

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