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They were perfectly devoted to each other; more like two lovers than teacher and pupil. Arthur almost worshipped the ground that Montanelli walked on, and I remember his once telling me that if he lost his 'Padre' he always used to call Montanelli so he should go and drown himself. Well, then you know what happened about the spy.
Then he left for Gaeta on board the English ship Bull Dog. The republic had been already proclaimed at Florence, with Montanelli and Guerrazzi as its chief administrators. It succeeded in pleasing no one. Civil war was more than once at the threshhold of Florence, for the peasants rose in armed resistance to the new government. In less than two months the restoration of the Grand.
The shadow of the episcopal throne was broad enough to cover him, and he crouched down in the darkness, holding his breath. "My poor boy! Oh, God; my poor boy!" The broken whisper was full of such endless despair that the Gadfly shuddered in spite of himself. Then came deep, heavy, tearless sobs; and he saw Montanelli wring his hands together like a man in bodily pain.
He would lie for hours motionless in the dark, secret, echoing pine-forests, looking out between the straight, tall trunks into the sunlit outer world of flashing peaks and barren cliffs. Montanelli watched him with a kind of sad envy.
In the gray twilight they looked at each other, and their hearts stood still with fear. "Have you anything more to say?" Montanelli whispered. "Any hope to give me?" "No. My life is of no use to me except to fight priests. I am not a man; I am a knife. If you let me live, you sanction knives." Montanelli turned to the crucifix. "God! Listen to this "
He knelt down in silence, and in silence Montanelli laid his hand on the bent head. A moment later Arthur rose, kissed the hand, and went softly away across the dewy grass. Montanelli sat alone under the magnolia tree, looking straight before him into the blackness. "It is the vengeance of God that has fallen upon me," he thought, "as it fell upon David.
"It's not your fault. Your God is hungry, and must be fed." Montanelli turned towards him. The grave that was to be dug was not more still than they were. Silent, they looked into each other's eyes, as two lovers, torn apart, might gaze across the barrier they cannot pass. It was the Gadfly whose eyes sank first.
Kiss the cross, if you dare, and tell me that you believe there is no other way to prevent greater bloodshed. And remember that if you tell me a lie you are imperilling your immortal soul." After a little pause, the Governor bent down and put the cross to his lips. "I believe it," he said. Montanelli turned slowly away. "I will give you a definite answer to-morrow.
The Gadfly turned to him a spectral face. "I demand nothing. Who shall compel love? You are free to choose between us two the one who is most dear to you. If you love Him best, choose Him." "I can't understand," Montanelli repeated wearily. "What is there I can choose? I cannot undo the past." "You have to choose between us. If you love me, take that cross off your neck and come away with me.
Arthur opened his eyes wide; he had not expected to hear the students' cause pleaded by the new Director. Montanelli took no part in the discussion; its subject, apparently, did not interest him. The expression of his face was so unutterably hopeless and weary that Father Cardi broke off suddenly. "I am afraid I have overtired you, Canon.
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