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Updated: June 4, 2025
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.
On the 5th of December a political demonstration of the most extreme character burst out in the States of the Church, along the whole chain of the Apennines; and people began to guess the reason of the Gadfly's sudden fancy to take his holidays in the depth of winter.
At first, under the fiery torrent of the Gadfly's despair, he had quivered a little, with the automatic shrinking of the flesh, as under the lash of a whip; but now he was quite still. After a long silence he looked up and spoke, lifelessly, patiently: "Arthur, will you explain to me more clearly? You confuse and terrify me so, I can't understand. What is it you demand of me?"
The pamphlet was a skit on the wild enthusiasm over the new Pope with which Italy was still ringing. Like all the Gadfly's writing, it was bitter and vindictive; but, notwithstanding her irritation at the style, Gemma could not help recognizing in her heart the justice of the criticism. "I quite agree with you that it is detestably malicious," she said, laying down the manuscript.
My God consent Arthur, but I love you!" The Gadfly's face contracted fearfully. "Which do you love best, me or that thing?" Montanelli slowly rose. The very soul in him withered with dread, and he seemed to shrivel up bodily, and to grow feeble, and old, and wilted, like a leaf that the frost has touched. He had awaked out of his dream, and the outer darkness was staring in upon an empty place.
"Sacconi was asking you a question," said Martini gruffly. The Gadfly's behaviour seemed to him an absurd piece of affectation, and he was annoyed that Gemma should have been tactless enough to follow his example. It was not like her. The Gadfly disclaimed all knowledge of the state of feeling in Pisa, explaining that he had been there "only on a holiday."
There were almost tears in his voice, and the Gadfly's resolution wavered. Another instant and he would have betrayed himself. Then the thought of the variety-show came up again, and he remembered, like Jonah, that he did well to be angry. "Who am I, that He should hear my prayers? A leper and an outcast!
It was only just in time, for the swords of the now infuriated soldiers were flashing close in front of him. "Put down your weapons, all of you!" Cardinal Montanelli had stepped suddenly between the combatants; and one of the soldiers cried out in a voice sharp with terror: "Your Eminence! My God, you'll be murdered!" Montanelli only moved a step nearer, and faced the Gadfly's pistol.
It's no use trying to slip away without being seen." Marcone slipped the reins into the Gadfly's hand. "Make haste! Ride out to the bridge and let the horse go; you can hide in the ravine. We're all armed; we can keep them back for ten minutes." "No. I won't have you fellows taken. Stand together, all of you, and fire after me in order.
"As for these, they had better go straight into the fire, and I will buy him some new clothes to-morrow. Have you any brandy in the house, signora? I think he ought to have a little. I will just wash my hands, if you will allow me." When the child had finished his supper, he immediately went to sleep in the Gadfly's arms, with his rough head against the white shirt-front.
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