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Updated: July 11, 2025
A rock might have been moved, but not Fra Pacifico. "Enrica shall obey me!" cried the marchesa. Her temper was rising beyond control at the idea of any opposition at such a critical moment. She had made her plan, settled it with Trenta; her plan must be carried out. "Enrica shall obey me," she repeated. "Enrica will obey me unless instigated by you, Fra Pacifico."
By this time, Fra Pacifico thinks, unless choked, the stranger must be near the upper story. The marchesa has now risen. She stands upright, her eyes riveted on the tower. She knows there is a door that opens from the top of the winding stair, on the highest story, next Enrica's room, a door out on the battlements. Will the stranger see it?
Now, it was not likely the Government could pay much attention to this, for at that precise moment the Foreign Office then presided over by Lord Palmerston was engaged with an English fleet in the waters of Greece, in collecting a bad debt for one Don Pacifico, a Jew, who made a fraudulent demand on the Greek Government for injuries said to have been committed upon him in Greece.
"Pshaw!" cried Fra Pacifico, retreating from him with an expression of blank disappointment. "I a canon at Lucca! If that is to be the consequence of success, you must depend on yourself, Signore Guglielmi. I decline to help you. I would not be a canon at Lucca if the King of Italy asked me in person." Guglielmi, whose tactics were, if he failed, never to show it, smiled his falsest smile.
Behind the loggia were the priest's four rooms, bare even for the bareness of that squalid place. He kept no servant, but it was counted an honor to serve him, and the mothers of Corellia came by turns to cook and wash for him. Fra Pacifico, as I have said, had risen at daybreak. Now he is searching to find a messenger to send to Lucca, as the marchesa had desired, to summon Cavaliere Trenta.
Indeed, he wondered within himself why she had remained so long. "Enrica, rise, my child," he said, softly. "There is nothing more to be done. The ceremony is over." Still Enrica did not move. Fra Pacifico leaned over the altar-rails, and gently raised her head. It dropped back upon his hand Enrica had fainted. This discovery caused the most terrible commotion.
Enrica felt that it must be so. A wild joy possessed her. This joy was harder to bear than the pain. Enrica was actually sinking under the hope that Nobili might return to her! Fra Pacifico noticed the gray shadow that was creeping over her face. "Enrica must go at once to her room," he said abruptly, "else I cannot answer for the consequences. Her strength is overtaxed."
A groan escaped her. Fra Pacifico, accustomed to listen to the almost inaudible sounds of the sick and the dying, heard it. The door opened. Enrica found herself within the room. She made no reply, but looked round vacantly. The light of the lamp, coming suddenly out of the darkness, the finding herself face to face with the marchesa, dazzled and alarmed her.
Ser Giacomo, the notary, dressed in his Sunday suit of black, remained, pen in hand, staring at the wall. Never in his humble life had he formed one of such a distinguished company. All his life Ser Giacomo had heard of the Marchesa Guinigi as a most awful lady. If Fra Pacifico had not caught him within his little office near the café, rather than have faced her, Ser Giacomo would have run away.
These men promptly formed a line down the hill, to carry the water from the willful mountain-stream that fed the town fountain. Fra Pacifico took the lead. Adamo, recovered now, was soon upon the ladder, receiving the buckets from below. Pipa beside the fountain watched the marchesa, sprinkling water on her face. "Surely her eyelids faintly quiver!" thinks Pipa.
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