"Is it Guaracco who waits to see me?" I asked the dwarf as we emerged from the bottega into the sticky sunlight, but he smiled mysteriously and shook his little head.
We walked along the street, my guide trotting in front, and turned a corner.
There, at the brink of the river, was a small dwelling house surrounded by a green garden.
"Go in, Ser Leo," the dwarf bade me, and ran around to the back with the nimble suddenness of a dog.
Left alone, I knocked at the door. There was no answer, and I pushed down the latch and went in.
I found myself in a cool, dark hall, paneled in wood. On a leather-cushioned sofa sat Lisa, the ward of Guaracco. Her feet were pressed close together under the hem of her wide skirt, and her hands were clasped in her lap. About her whole attitude there was an air of tense, embarrassed expectancy. She looked up as I came in, and then quickly dropped her gaze, making no answer to my surprised greeting.
As I came farther into the room, approaching the girl, a pale oblong caught my eye—a folded paper, lying on a little round center table. Upon it were written three large letters:
LEO
"Is this for me?" I asked Lisa, who only bowed her head the lower. I began to catch something of her embarrassment. "Your pardon for a moment," I requested, and opened the paper.
The letter was brief and to the point. It read:
You have thus far pleased me much, and I have high hopes of great advantage from your acquaintance and endeavor. It occurs to me to make you a present.
In the short time you were my guest, you saw my ward, Lisa. She likes you, and you are not averse to her society. Take her, therefore, and I wish you joy of each other.
CHAPTER V The Gift of Guaracco
The first sentence of the letter astonished me beyond measure. The last had two effects, overwhelming and sudden in succession, like the two reports of a great double barreled gun.
For my primary impulse was to rejoice, to be glad and thankful. Why had I never realized that I loved Lisa? Thinking of her now—how could I help but love her? But my second reaction was one of horrified knowledge of what Guaracco meant by such a gift.
"Lisa, fair mistress," I said, "this letter—you know what it says?"
She nodded, and the living rose touched her ivory skin.
"It cannot be," I told her soberly.
"Cannot?" she repeated, no louder than a sigh. It might have been a protest, it might have been an agreement.
I overcame an impulse to fall on one knee before her, like any melodramatic courtier of that unrestrained age and land.
"Lisa," I said again, desperately choosing my words, "first of all, let me say that I am deeply moved by the mere thought of winning you. Guaracco appears to mean what he says, and you appear to be ready to consent." Watching her, I saw the trembling of her lips. "But I cannot take you at his hands, Lisa."
At last she looked me full in the face. She, too, began to comprehend.
"That subtle wizard, Guaracco," I went on, growing warm to the outrage he would wreak, "tries to rule us both by fear. He sees that he is not successful. We yield slowly, biding our time, for orders are orders until there comes strength for disobedience. And so he seeks to rule us by happiness. Confess it, Lisa. For a moment you, too, would have wanted love between us!"
She gave me her sweet little smile, with unparted lips, but shyness had covered her again and she did not answer me.
"We cannot, Lisa," I said earnestly. "It might be sweet, and for me at least, it would be the easiest course in the world. But Guaracco's touch upon our love—heaven forefend that we be obligated to him!"
"Eloquently said, Leo, my kinsman!"
It was the voice of Guaracco. I spun quickly around, ready to strike out at him. But he was not there. Only his laughter, like the whinnying of a very cunning and wicked horse was there, coming from the empty air of the room.
"Do not strive against nothingness, young hero," his words admonished me out of nowhere, "and do not anguish me by spurning my poor, tender ward. She loves you, Leo, and you have just shown that you love her."
Such words made it impossible for me to look at Lisa, and therefore I looked the harder for Guaracco. In the midst of his mockery, I located the direction of the sound. He spoke from the room's very center, and I moved in that direction.
At once he fell silent, but I had come to a pause at the point where the final syllable still echoed, almost in my ear. I glared around me, down, and upward.
A cluster of lamps hung just above my head, held by several twisted cords to the ceiling. Among the cupped sconces I spied what I suspected—a little open cone of metal, like a funnel. I am afraid that I swore aloud, even in Lisa's presence, when I saw and knew the fashion of Guaracco's ghostly speaking. But I also acted. With a single lunge and grasp I was upon the lamps, and pulled with all my strength.
They came away and fell crashing, but not they alone. For with them came a copper tube that had been suspended from cords and concealed there. I tore it from its place in the ceiling. Beyond that ceiling, I knew, went another tube that went to the lips of Guaracco, in hiding. I cast the double handful of lamps upon the planks of the floor.
Once again Guaracco laughed, but this time from behind me in the room itself. Again I turned. A panel of the woodwork had swung outward, and the man himself stepped through, all black velvet and flaming beard and sneering smile.
"You are a quick one," he remarked. "I have fooled many a wise old grandfather with that trick."
I gathered myself to spring.
"Now nay, Leo," he warned me quickly. "Do nothing violent, nothing that you would not have set down as your last act on earth." His hand lifted, and in it was leveled a pistol, massively but knowingly made. I stared for a moment, forgetting my rage and protest at his villainous matchmaking. Surely pistols were not invented so early… .
"It is of my own manufacture," he informed me, as though he read my mind. "Though short, it throws a ball as hard and as deep as the longest arquebus in Christendom. Do not force me to shoot you, Kinsman." His lips writhed scornfully over the irony of our pretended relationship.
"Shoot if you will," I bade him. "I have said to Lisa, and I also say to you, that I shall not be led by love into your deeper hateful service."
He shook his rufous head with a great show of melancholy.
"Alas, young Cousin! You do great and undeserved wrong to Lisa and to me. Only this morning she was disposed to thank me for the thought, to scan by way of rehearsal the marriage service… . Ah, I have it!" He laughed aloud. "You do not think that a poor art student like yourself can support a wife and household." He held out his free hand, as warmly smiling as any indulgent father. "Take no further thought of it. I myself shall provide a suitable dowry for the bride."
Even poor wretched Lisa exclaimed in disgust at his evil humor, and I started forward suddenly, coming so close to Guaracco that I found the hard muzzle of his pistol digging into the pit of my stomach.
"Back," he commanded, with quiet menace. "Back, I say, at once… . That is better. What fantastic objection have you to raise this time?"
"You add money to beauty and love in the effort to buy me!" I cried in new disgust. "Dowry! A bribe to marriage! Oh, you are infamous! Surely we are living in the last days of the world!" I flung wide my arms, as though in invitation of a shot. "Kill me, Guaracco! You said once that you would kill me if I disobeyed you. Well, I disobey, and with my last breath I do name you a sorry scoundrel!"
He shook his head, and moved back.