ROME.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5667, 11 September 1896, Page 1

ROME.

BY EMILE ZOLA. [Translated Bt Ebnest Alfred i VIZBTELLT.] j (All Bights Reserved.) Chafteb XI. — (Continued.) ' The road turned, and then the carriage rolled on and on over another interminable straight highway with white paving, whose brilliancy made the road look like a ribbon of snow stretching across the Campagna, ■where delicate shadows were slowly falling. Gloom gathered in the hollows of the broad undulations whence a tide of violet hue seemed to spread over the short herbage until all mingled and the expanse became an indistinct swell of neutral hue from one to the other horizon, r A^id the solitude , was now yet more complete ; a last indolent cart had gone by and a last tinkling of "hordes' bells "Hfcd ! subsided in the distance/ There was iio longer a passer-by; "no longer a beast of the fields to be seen, colour and sound died away, all forms of life sank into slumber, into the serene peacef ulness of nihUity. Some fragments of an aqueduct were still to be seen at intervals on the right hand, where they looked like portions of gigantic millepedes severed by the scythe of time; next, on the left, came another tower, whose dark and ruined pile barred the sky as with a huge black stake; and then the remains of another aqueduct spanned the road assuming yet greater dimensions against the sunset glow. Ah ! that unique hour, the hour of twilight in the Campagna, when all is blotted out and simplified, the hour of bare immensity, of the infinite in its simplest expression ! There is nothing, nothing all around you, but the flat live of the horizon with the one splotch of on isolated tower, and yet that nothing is instinct with sovereign majesty. However, on the left, towards the sea, the sun was setting, descending in the limpid sky like a globe of fire of blinding redness. It slowly plunged beneath the horizon, and the . only sign of cloud was some fiery vapour, as if indeed the distant sea had seethed at contact with that royal and flaming visit. And directly the sun had disappeared the heavens above, it purpled and became a lake of blood, whilst the Campagna turned to grey. At the far end of the fading plain there remained only that purple lake whose brasier 'slowly died out behind the black arches of the aqueduct, while in the opposite directions the scattered arches remained bright and rosy against a pewter-like sky. Then the fiery vapour was dissipated, and the sunset tmdedjbj fading away. One by one the stars'caine : out in the pacified vault, now of an ashen blue, while the lights of Binie,' still far away on the verge of the horizon, scintillated like the lamps of lights - hcrises. And Prada, amidst the dreamy silence of ■his companions and the infinite melancholy. . of the evening and the inexpressible distress which even he experienced, continued to ask himself what course he should adopt. Again and again he mentally repeated that he could not allow people to be poisoned. The figs were certainly intended for Cardinal Boccanera, and on the whole it mattered 'little to., him whether there : were a cardinal the more or the fewer in the world. Moreover, it had always seemed . to- him best to let destiny follow its course and, icfidel that he was, he saw no harm in one priest devouring another. Again, it might be dangerous Tor him to intervene in that abominable affair, to mix himself up in -the base, fathomless intrigues of the black world. But on the other hand the Cardinal was not the only person who lived in the Boccanera mansion, and might not the figs go to others, might they not be eaten by people to whom no harm was intended? This idea of a treacherous chance haunted him, and in spite of every effort the figures of Benedetta and Dario rose up before him, returned and imposed themselves on him though he again and a^ain sought to banish them from his mind. What if Benedetta, what if Dario should partake of that fruit? For Benedetta he felt no fear, for he knew that she and her aunt ate their meals by themselves, and that their cuisine and the Cardinal's had nothing in common. But Dario sat at his uncle's table every day, and for a moment Prada pictured the young Prince suddenly seized with a spasm, then falling, like poor Monsigno GaUo, into the Cardinal's arms with livid face and receding eyes, and dying within two hours. j But no, no ! That would be frightful, he could not suffer such an abomination. And thereupon he made up his mind. He •would wait till the night had completely gathered round and would then simply take the basket from off Santobono's lap and fling it into some dark hollow without saying a word. The priest would understand him. lhe other one, the young Frenchman, would perhaps not even notice the incident. Besides, that mattered little, for he would not even attempt to explain his action. And he felt quite calm again *hen the idea occurred to him to throw the j basket away while the carriage passed through the Porta Furba, a couple of miles or so before reaching Eome. That would suit him exactly ; in the darkness of the gateway nothing whatever would be seen. I "We stopped too long at that osteria," he suddenly exclaimed aloud, turning towards Pierre. "We Bha'n't reach Eome

much before six o'clock. Still you vill have trme to dress and join your friend." And then without awaiting the young man's reply he said to Santobono : " Your figs will arrive very late, Abbe." "Oh ! " answered the priest, " His Eminence receives until eight o'clock. And, besides, the figs are not for. this evening. People don't eat figs in the evening. They will be for to-morrow morning." And thereupon he again relapsed into silence. " For to-morrow morning — yes, yes, no doubt," repeated Prada. "And the Cardinal will be able to thoroughly, regale himself if nobodv helps him to eat the fruit." Thereupon Pierre, without pausing to reflect, exclaimed : "He will no doubt eat it by himself, for his nephew, Prince. Dario must have started to-day for Naples on a little convalescence trip tavr|d;«himself of the'- effects of the accidentr- which, laid him up during the last month." Thehj haying got so -~feiV-i the r y-oung- . priest.remembered to whom he was speaking, and abruptly stopped short. • ' The Count noticed his embarrassment. "OhJ speak on, my dear Monsieur Frome"(," said he, "you don't offend me. It's an, old affair now. So that young man has left you say ?" "Yes, unless he has postponed his departure. However, I don't expect to find him at the palazzo when I get' there." For a moment the only sound was that of the continuous rumble of the wheels. Piada again felt worried, a prey to the discomfort of uncertainty. Why should he mix himself up in the affair if Dario were really absent ? All the ideas which came to him tired his brain, and he "ended by thinking aloud : "If he has gone away it must be for propriety's sake, so as to avoid attending the Buongiovanni reception, for the Congregation of the Council met this morning to give its. decision in the suit which the Countess has brought against me. Yes, I shall know by-and-by whether our marriage is to be dissolved." It was in a somewhat hoarse voice that he spoke these words, and one could realize that the old wound was again bleeding within him. Although Lizbeth had borne him a son, the charge levelled against him in his wife's petition for •' divorce still filled him with blind fury each time that he thought of it. And all at once he shuddered violently, as if an icy blaßt had darted through his frame. Then, turning the conversation, he added: ",It's not at all warm this evening. This is the dangerous hour of the Roman climate, the twilight hour when it's easy to catch a terrible fever if one isn't prudent. Here, pull the rug over your legs, wrap it round you as, carefully as you can." i Then, as they drew, near to the Porta Furba, silence again fell, more profound, like the slumber which was invincibly spreading over the Campagna, now steeped in night. 'And at last, in the bright starlight, appeared .the- gate* an arch of the Acqua Felice, under which the road passed. From a distance, this fragment seemed to bar the way with its mass of ancient halffallen walls. But afterwards the gigantic arch where all was black opened like a gaping- porch. • And the carriage passed under it in darkness whilst the wheels rumbled with increased sonority. When the victoria emerged on the other side, Santobono still fiadi;he little basket of figs upon his knees and Prada looked at it. quite overcome, asking himself what sudden paralysis of the hands had prevented him from seizing it, and throwing it into the darkness. Such had still been his intention but a few seconds before they passed under the arch. He had even given the basket a final glance in order that he might the better realise what movement he should make. What had taken place within him then ? At present he was yielding to increasing irresolution, henceforth incapable of decisive action, feeling a need of delay in order that he might, before anything else, fully satisfy himself as to what was likely to happen. And as Dario had doubtless gone away and the figs would certainly not be eaten until the following morning, what reason was there for him to hurry ? He would know that evening if the Congregation of the Council had annulled his marriage, he would know how far the so-called " Justice of God " was venal and mendacious ! Certainly he would -suffer nobody to be poisoned, not even Cardinal Boccanera, though, the latter's life was of little account to him personally. Bnt had not that little basket, ever since leaving Frascati, been like Destiny on the march ? And was it not enjoyment, the enjoyment of omnipotence, to be able to say to himself that he was the master who could stay that basket's course, or allow it to go onward and accomplish its deadly purpose ? Moreover he yielded to the dimmest of mental struggles, ceasing to reason, unable to raise his hand, and yet convinced that he. would drop av warning note into the letter-box at the palazso before he went to bed, though at the same time he felt happy in the thought, that if his interest directed otherwise he would not do so. ; And the remainder of the journey was accomplished in silent weariness, amidst the shiver of evening which seemed to have frliillpd all three men.' In vain did the Count endeavour to escape from the battle of his thoughts by reverting to the I Buongiovanni reception, and giving par- . ticulars of the splendours which would, be witnessed at itj his words fell sparsely in an embarrassed and absent-minded way.

Then he sought to inspirit Pierre by sppaking to him of Cardinal Sangninetti's amiable manner and fair words, but although the/young priest was returning home well pleased with his journey, in the idea that with a little help he might yet triumph, he scarcely answered the Count, so wrapt he ; was in his reverie. Arid, Santobono, on his side,. neither spoke nor moved. Black like the night itself, he. seemed to have disappeared. However, the lights of Rome were increasing in number, and houses again appeared on either hand, at first at long intervals, and then in close succession. They were suburban hoxises, and there were yet more fields of reeds, quickset, olive trees overtopping long-walls', and big gateways with vase-surmounted pillars ; but at last came the city with its rows of small grey, houses, its petty shops and its dingy taverns, whence' afctimes.came shouts and rumours M Rattle. -V^i. ; v ; v-\ .:.•■■••; ■. ' : .-■.;>•■*-•: Prada insisted on setting-his companions doTyn;in ! the'Yia!Grinliaj di.. fifty paces from the palazzo. "It doesn't ' inconvenience me at all," said- he to Pierre. " Besides, with the little time you have before you, it would never do for you to go on foot." • The Via Giulia was: already steeped in slumber, and wore a melancholy aspect of abandonment in the dreary light of the gas lamps standing on either hand. And as soon as Santobono had alighted from the carriage, he took himeelf off without waiting for Pierre, who, moreover always went in by the little door in the side-lane. " Good-bye, Abbe ," exclaimed Prada. " «ood-bye, Count, a thousand thanks," was Santobono's response. . Then the two others stood watching him as he went towards the Boccanera mansion, whose old, monumental entrance, full of gloom, was still wide open. For a moment they saw his tall, rugged figure erect against that gloom. Then in he plugged, he and his little basket, bearing Destiny. (To be continued.)