Bruno the Conscript

Front matter

"rruno the Conscript ET Marie Hutcheson AUTHOR OF "TAIA, A SHADOW OF THE MILE," "LED FROM AFAR," etc., etc. Xonfcon HUTCHINSON & CO. 34 PATERNOSTER ROW TO MY FRIENDS AT THE STUDIOS 4bis VIA DELLE OFFICINI FLORENCE THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED IN MEMORY OF MANY PLEASANT DAYS CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. AT THE OLD THEATRE I H. BRUNO AND ADELE 1 9 HI. BEATRICE AND BEPPO 29 rv. bruno's news 38 V. THE SIGNORA FABIO SEES A GHOST .... 48 VI. THE DATE OF THE CONSCRIPTION-DRAWING . 56 VH. THE ROMAN THEATRE BY MOONLIGHT ... 66 VIII. IN THE OSTERIA VANNI 75 IX. BEPPO ASKS A QUESTION 85 X. IS HE MY BROTHER ? 93 XI. IN THE STUDIO IO3 XII. THE LAST DAY AT THE STUDIO 112 XIII. THE NIGHT BEFORE THE CONSCRIPTION-DRAWING. 120 XIV. THE CONSCRIPTION-DRAWING I31 XV. ADELE'S PLAN I51 XVI. GIOVANNI VANNl'S REFUSAL l6l XVII.

"I MUST FIND HIM" 17 1 xvin. adele's search VI CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE XIX. SYMPATHY AND COUNSEL I90 XX. LOVE 200 XXI. BEATRICE'S MEDITATIONS AND BEPPO'S DECI- SION 209 XXII. THE MERENDA AT THE CASCINE 219 XXIII. CAGLIARI 23I XXIV. THE OLD THEATRE AT CAGLIARI 24I XXV. THE STRANGE VISITOR 25 1 XXVI. SIGNORA FABIO'S STORY 263 XXVII. SIGNORA FABIO GIVES HER REASONS . . . 274 XXVTII. BEATRICE COMES TO A DECISION .... 282 XXTX. BRUNO'S ILLNESS 296 XXX. IN THE HOSPITAL AT CAGLIARI 307 THE END 31-

Chapter I. At The Old Theatre

Brilliant sunshine flooded the old Roman theatre at Fiesole one morning late in April. The semicircle of stone seats, and the intersecting steps, worn by the sandalled feet that have moulded into dust long centuries ago, burned under the hot rays to which they lay exposed. A dreamy fragrance was in the air, from the violets that lay thick in the grassy slope that fell quickly away from the ruined arena, and the lilies and hyacinths that grew in clusters among the olive trees near. The fresh green of young corn under the neighbouring vines was flecked here and there with scarlet tulips or golden daffo dils. The old grey seats seemed encircled by living garlands in their long deserted, solitary state. The scene in front of the old theatre was a wide, sombre view, shallow valleys and hill-sides running north, grey with low growing ilex bushes and misty olive trees, and lonely save for the scattered red-roofed farmhouses and cottages.

A few steps from the summit of the amphitheatre led to the crest of the hill behind it, and there the eye wandered over the wide valley of the Arno, with gardens and villas, spires and convents, " sown whitely up and down its opposite slopes," to Florence, set in the midst of flower grown fields and vineyards, rich in its marble churches, its massive towers and palaces, and countless treasures of a glorious past. A few steps, and what a contrast ! The stone seats of the old theatre, firmly set with their backs to the intervening ridge, seemed turning resolutely away from the splendours and memories of an age, alien in its mediæval spirit, and modern in comparison with the old Pagan ruin ; and facing the silent valleys and the ever lasting hills which bore the same similitude when the Fiesolan Theatre echoed with the hum of voices and the tread of feet.

The rows of empty seats confronting the lonely view seemed in keeping as they basked together under the hot sun. The silence had reigned so long in the old Roman theatre, that its hush seemed to speak louder than the sounds of the great city in the luxuriant valley over the hill. It began centuries before the city was racked by the fierce turmoil of the long strife between Guelf and Ghibelline ; it had lasted while dynasties had sprung up and been overthrown, through times of liberty and oppression, triumphs and reverses, until it seemed to partake of the hills and the heavens, and to give back the silent message they tell — time passes, customs change, men are born, struggle, fight, and die, but we wait on for the end. In this long silence its own stories have been forgotten ; the applause and success, failure and condemnation, of which the old theatre was the scene, have passed away with the footsteps that thronged it, but have left no trace as they did, written on stone.

Even the purpose of some of its structure is no longer evident, and the vaults beneath the seats, which puzzle the barefooted children who play hide-and-seek in them, have been a subject of conjecture to many curious to learn all the flower begirt ruin has to tell. But the old theatre and the "Dens of the Fairies," as the Fiesolani call the vaults — in hushed accents sometimes, when the shadows are black — -have kept many secrets, old and new; and as the children race over the seats, and peep, half in faith, half in dread, into the "buche delk fate," they often chatter and wonder over the one secret of which they have heard, or act with never-failing interest an incident of which the old theatre was the scene. No childish voices rang through the ruins on this hot April morning, when the sun was scorching the stones and bringing out the fragrance of the flowers around them ; but a steady murmur of conversa tion came from a triangular patch of ground adjoining, mingled with the sharp sounds of wet linen being shaken out by strong young arms.

" Diana ! How I tire of this life ! From the wash-tub to the drying green and back again ! " said a voice, that sounded harsh and unmodulated as it came from a very lovely mouth. " It is better than from the fire to the ironing-board and back on a day like to day," was the reply. " How like you, Adele ! What comfort is there in saying that, when one knows it will happen to-morrow? Altro che!" "To-morrow hasn't come yet. To day is to-day," said Adele. " And that to-morrow won't come to you," cried the first speaker, throwing herself down on the grass as she spoke, and clasping her hands under her head as she lay back in an attitude of unconscious grace. Adele Vanni paused a moment before pinning the last article on the line, and looked down at her companion. " How beautiful she is ! " was the thought which arrested her busy hands; but the smile ended in a smothered sigh as she straight ened the last fold of linen and seated herself by her companion.

They were a great contrast, the two girls so nearly of an age, side by side under the shade of a gnarled olive tree. They were both plainly dressed in dark skirts and print bodices, and the black lace scarf covering their heads showed they were of " the class that do not wear hats" as certainly as their humble occupation ; but Adele's garments were newer than her friend's, and her whole appearance was more prosperous. But with that exception, the advantage remained entirely with Beatrice Fabio, whose beauty was of an entirely different order from that of Adele Vanni. Adele was a tall, robust girl, with black brows and great black eyes, her white teeth gleamed between red lips, and her whole appearance was cheerful and healthy; but her features were irregular and heavy, and her face in repose looked stolid.

Almost as tall as Adele, Beatrice was very slight. The hands clasped behind her head, and the feet in the coarse shoes were slender and beautifully formed. Her face was a perfect oval, with finely-cut, regular features, and her small head was covered with broad plaits of bright chest- BRUXO THE CONSCRIPT. nut hair that showed almost a ruddy gold against the black lace covering. Large eyes of a bright hazel were half veiled by long lashes, several shades darker than her hair, and her smooth skin was of the creamy fairness that rarely flushes, and looks flawless in the strongest light. As she lay with half-closed eyes in an attitude of repose, she might have seemed the realization of the glorious dreams of fair women that inspired the great painters of the cinque cento, or rather the counter part of the living women whose beauty lives for ever on their canvases.

During their conversation her beauty was somewhat marred by an expression of discontent; but as Adele sat down near her, Beatrice turned her head with a smile that brightened her into rare love liness. "You might have answered me that, but for your own good nature, this bit of to-day need not have come to you," she said ; " but instead you finish my work, and let me say what I like." "There is not much good nature in coming out for a gossip; it is pleasant here to-day, " remarked Adele, whose nimble fingers were already busily plaiting up some lengths of yellow straw ; " and besides, I was not thinking of what you said." "No? What were you thinking of? That Beppo will be late coming from the farm, and that the soup may be burning?" " I was thinking how beautiful you are, Bice," was the unexpected answer to the gibing questions.

" Santa Madonna ! One would think you were a man ! " laughed Beatrice, looking pleased, however, at the outspoken admira tion. " But what is the use of being so beautiful," she went on, the discontented look returning to her face, "when I spend my life up here in Fiesole helping my grandmother with the washing and ironing from one week to another, and have only a common string of coral for a festa? Now you are not nearly so handsome, and yet your father is a rich man, with the farm and the wine shop, and you have two rows of pearls already." " She who is born handsome is born married," quoted Adele, fixing her eyes intently on her work. " If you were not so beautiful, Bruno might not love you, who knows?" " Bah ! who is Bruno ? " cried Beatrice, with an affectation of scorn ; but her mouth softened involuntarily as she said the name, and a dreamy look came into her large brown eyes.

Adele Vanni saw the look, though her eyes seemed only to watch her fingers and the quickly moving straw, and again she smothered a sigh. Adele, in everything but beauty, had decidedly the advantage of her friend. Her father, Giovanni Vanni, had prospered as steadily as old Domenico Fabio, Beatrice's grandfather, had gone back in the world. Vanni was one of the most, affluent men in the quaint old city of Fiesole, with a good farm in the valley, just below the Roman theatre, and the largest osteria on the Piazza. But his distant cousin, old Fabio, had lost his family, save the one granddaugh ter, and left with no efficient unpaid help, had relinquished the hard struggle with his few unproductive fields, and had taken a situation as gardener in one of the many villa-residences that cover the hill-side towards Florence, while his wife and grandchild undertook the washing for the same family.

She who is born rich is born married may as truly be said as the proverb Adele had quoted, and Adele Vanni had proved its truth ; but she laughed at her admirers as gaily as did Beatrice, the loveliest girl in Fiesole, who reigned queen at every festa, despite the fall in the family fortunes. " Everyone knows himself, and God knows all," thought Adele, as she found herself weighing all her advantages against one possession that Beatrice had, and finding them as nothing in the balance. " It seems strange to hear Bice envy me. " " I often wonder whether we shall ever know who Bruno is," said Beatrice, breaking the silence. " It is so stupid not to know, and I hate to hear the children playing at finding Bruno ; many a time I chase them and box their ears. But yet he is so different from the other young men that I sometimes fancy there must be some reason for it, and that we shall find out some day that he is a great man's son."

" If so, why would he have been left all alone as a baby in the old theatre?" an swered Adele, quickly ; " and poorly dressed, too, I have heard my father say. It is more likely, as Babbo says, that Bruno's mother was a Fiesole girl who had gone into service in the city down there," pointing over her shoulder in the direction where Florence lay. " It is a great, big, cruel place, and the struggle to earn bread there is often desperate. Suppose such a one who had lost heart and strength, per haps more, finding she could not feed her baby, came here at night and left him, poverino, at dawn, trusting to some kind heart in her native place to give the little one bite and sup. I have often wept at the spot, thinking of the breaking heart that must have gone away that dawn." " You seem very anxious to prove that Bruno is no one great," said Beatrice, pettishly, heedless of the tenderness in Adele's voice.

" You want to make him very humble." " Macche ! I am sure Bruno will be great some day," said Adele, warmly; "but it will be of himself. I must confess I should not be glad if he turned out to have always been, all the years we have lived and played together, quite different from us, quite divided by birth." " Davvero! if your father's story is true, that is done. Giovanni Vanni's children are different enough from the deserted brat of a servant maid. But I see, you don't mind being better than Bruno; you don't want to lose the advantage you have over him," went on Beatrice, growing more angry as she spoke. "You are always to be better off than everyone else." " You want to make me cross, but I don't want to make any bad blood and take tea of mallows," said Adele, putting her hand playfully over Beatrice's mouth.

" And you know you are talking nonsense. Babbo always says everything has prospered with him since he heard the crying of a child over there," pointing to the lower seats of the theatre on her left, " and brought the poor little mite home before going to the farm that bright morning this time of the year. And, as you know, Bruno has been quite one of ourselves ever since, except that Babbo does not promise him the same when he dies. But I think that is to make him take to a trade, and Beppo wants that too. He says," she added, laughing, "that Bruno must have come from the dens of the fairies, and that it is they who have filled his head so full of dreams and fancies." "And many other people say, according to Nonno, that your father was the very one to come on Bruno, for no one is so clever a finder as he who knows what to look for and where," said Beatrice, who had not recovered her good humour.

" Madra cara ! why ? " exclaimed Adele. " Ask Nonno, he is fond of repeating old gossip," answered Beatrice carelessly. " And he remembers when it all happened. " " Does he think Babbo was in the secret all the time? " asked Adele, wondering. She jumped to her feet, and, running to the edge of the little patch of grass, looked down at the arena of the old theatre with a new interest. There, just above the ruined pillared entrance nearest to her, Bruno had been found on the early April morning long ago. Adele Vanni was fond of looking at the spot and wondering what her life would have been like without Bruno, or if anyone but her father had passed by and heard that lonely wail, but Beatrice's words brought a new wonder. " Why had her father kept the secret if he knew it? And why had he not told Bruno?

Would he really turn out to be some great man's son hidden away with a trustworthy per son?" But as Adele's fancy reached this point, she burst into a merry peal of laughter. Her father's entreaties to Bruno to learn an honest trade and not let his mind run on art and dreams of fame recurred to her, and were as incongruous with her flights of imagination as her father's round, jovial face was with the idea of years of secrecy. " It is all nonsense. Your grandfather grows old," she said, with cheerful de cision, turning to Beatrice. " My father can as little keep a secret as — you can look ugly." " Nonno is growing old, and I am grow ing as ill-tempered as he is," said Beatrice, penitently, "for I only repeated his nonsense to vex you. Everyone knows your father's kind heart, and you and Beppo are just like him, but as for me — I am a little pig."

Adele patted the penitent face, but she looked graver as Beatrice spoke. "Poor Beppo," she said, turning away; "I am afraid his kind heart does not win him much mercy from you. Why do you play with it, Bice, if it is Bruno you really love?" There was a depth of wistful longing in the last few words, but Beatrice affected not to hear them. "Pouf! Beppo is big enough to take care of himself," she exclaimed gaily. " We are very good friends always, and, for example, there he comes up the road. I can hear him whistle. Beppo! il ben venuto!" she called out coquettishly, as a tall stalwart young man came towards them, whistling gaily. "You are in time to pre vent a quarrel. Adele and I are counting our lovers; she says I have too many."

Chapter II. Bruno And Adele

" Diana ! Adele is quite right," said Beppo, laughing, as he joined the two girls. "If I had my way, girls would only have one lover." "One at a time, you mean," replied Beatrice, mischievously ; " and changed often for variety. Heavens! one tires of cabbage every day, and the good God gives us different salads in their season; one learns much of life from a garden, as Nonno says. " " Nonno talks a great deal, it would seem," said Adele, impatiently; "let us think no more of his sayings to-day. Now, for example, cabbage reminds me of dinner, and that Babbo will be hungry. We must go, Beppo." " I will come soon. I will give the soup time to cool this hot day," replied Beppo, making a gesture of farewell to his sister. Adele Vanni moved quietly away, her busy fingers plaiting rapidly the yellow lengths of straw with firm, unfaltering fin gers; but her heart was sore and rebel lious.

" Why does she not leave me one ? " she thought. " She cannot love Beppo and Bruno." Adele crossed the bright patch of grass flecked with the quivering shadows of the olive trees, and turned into a narrow wind ing alley between high red-roofed houses, cool and dark in its contrast to the brilliant sunshine she had left. Another sud den turn brought her on to the Piazza, and again into blinding sunlight. The change was so rapid that for a moment her eyes were dazzled, and she started as a familiar voice sounded at her side — "Adele, I have been looking for you; where have you been?" The change on Adele's face as she looked at the speaker was as great as the rapid transition from gloom to brilliant hght in the few steps from the alley to the Piazza. Her great dark eyes sparkled with pleasure, and yet deepened into a more tender feeling, while the rich colour glowing on her brown cheeks, and the bright gleam of her white teeth, transformed her into absolute beauty.

" I have been with — near the old theatre," she answered, checking the utter ance of Beatrice Fabio's name, with a quick instinctive dread of losing Bruno's attention. " It is me that he wants, now — he said so," she told herself in a flash of thought during the momentary pause. " Capperi ! if I had known! I have been in the kitchen and the frontroom and the cellars, and called all over the house, and now Babbo is hungry and won't wait, so I must. But after dinner, Adele, I have such news for you ; be as quick as you can over it. " Adele smiled happily as Bruno caught her hand and hurried her impetuously forward a few steps. " I wish I could wait to hear it. Is it good news?" she asked eagerly. " Good ! Dio ! it is superb, wonderful news; but hurry, hurry, it is too long to tell now, and Babbo is calling."

" I will come the moment Babbo has done, and I am sure dinner is ready, Bruno," said Adele, disappearing through a wide archway, in response to Bruno's impatient wave of the hand. Bruno stood a moment on the threshold before following Adele, looking out on to the sunny piazza with a bright hopeful smile. " Good news!" he repeated to himself. "Holy Mother! it has been the dream of my whole life!" Bruno's whole life had not been a very long one. He had barely completed his twenty first year, and his smooth young face had a boyish look as he stood smiling in the sunshine. There was almost feminine beauty in the contour of his mouth and chin, in the even row of small white teeth, and the dreamy beauty of the large grey eyes; but the breadth of his brow and shape of the head gave a look of dignity and power that made his appearance more striking than a first glance at the gay young face and slight figure of barely middle height promised.

The smile merged into a laugh as Bruno heard a voice greeting Adele. "Come at last!" cried the deep, cheerful voice, as Adele Vanni hurried through a wide courtyard into the kitchen. It was a large, dark room, with small paned windows looking on to the courtyard which ran round two sides of the house. An open door into the front room, which looked on to the piazza, let in a flood of light, which fell in a straight bar across the red-tiled floor, and in contrast the sides of the room appeared shadowy and cool. At the side farthest removed from the wide brick stove the master of the house, Giovanni Vanni, lounged on a wooden settle; but as his daughter crossed the kitchen and came into the light, he sat up in an attitude of expectancy, " Come at last ! Did you forget the time, my little daughter?

If you had been hungry since ten o'clock, you would not be late at twelve. An empty stomach makes a fine clock ; no forgetting the quarters it sounds. Altro che! But where are the others? Beppo should be here, and Bruno was here a minute ago. Well! if they like to wait for their dinner until the twenty-three, they may please themselves. As for me, I am as ready for mine as a good conscience and a cup of coffee at six o'clock can make a man." " Well, Babbo, you shall have it at once," said Adele, pausing in her rapid move ments to lay her hand affectionately on her father's arm. "As for Bruno, he is at the door, and I saw Beppo on his way home. I am sorry I am late, but I left Assunta to watch the soup, and it is ready, I am sure." "And to say the truth, Adele, mia, I am a little before the time, as sometimes happens with me at this hour," said her father, breaking into a hearty laugh.

" But, corpo di Bacco ! I feel as though I could eat a loaf in one mouthful." Giovanni Vanni was a big, burly man, with the round ruddy face and stiff black hair, so often seen among the country folks in Tuscany — "children of the soil and of sunshine," as they have been aptly described, with their joyous, sturdy Hfe, and simple, homely mother wit. "And what is Bruno doing at the door, little daughter? Waiting for a glimpse of that pretty lass, Beatrice Fabio, I'll be bound, who is very likely making eyes at another young fool, over the linen as she folds it, at this very moment. She can go with the devil and with holy water, that one; but I would not waste my breath saying that to Bruno, nor Beppo neither. As well sing the scale to a donkey, as talk sense to a lover; and, as you know, I am not a talker at any time, and to them — Diana ! it is well that I am a silent, patient man.

And blessed be the saints! here comes the soup, which is better than throwing words into the air." "And here comes Bruno, just in time," cried Adele, as she put the ladle into the soup. "I always turn up at the right moment, Babbo," said Bruno, cheerily, as he drew up to the large square table, at one end of which Adele had spread the mid-day meal. " My luck has never deserted me from the time I had the good fortune to be found by you instead of — old Tolomei Dossi, for example." " Or even old Fabio, eh, Bruno? You would not like to be reckoned Beatrice's brother, perhaps?" chuckled Vanni. Giovanni Vanni spoke with his mouth full of the longed-for soup, and the chuckle occasioned a fit of choking and coughing which caused Bruno and Adele to spring to his assistance, one with a glass of wine and the other with vigorous blows on the farmer's sturdy shoulders.

During their active efforts for his relief the burning rush of colour which suffused Adele's face at her father's words passed unobserved. " Thank you, my children," gasped Vanni, as he recovered his breath. "An apoplexy on all jokes! I often vow I will never laugh again, and some day I may break those vows too often. A man of my age should be more serious. Give me another glass of red wine, Adele, that I may drink confusion to silly jokes and lover's non sense. And give Bruno here a glass; he will join me in that, I am sure."

Chapter III. Beatrice And Beppo

"What a good girl Adele is!" said Beatrice Fabio, as Adele left Beppo and herself. "Look at the linen all hanging up ; she helped me with it, or I should not have finished yet." "Adele is fond of you, as everyone is. Who can help it?" answered Beppo, looking admiringly at the lovely face at his side. "Is she? I am not so sure of that," said Beatrice. " And as for everyone being fond of me, just come home and see how Nonno greets me, to say nothing of my grandmother's sighs when I scorch the linen or forget to blue it." '9 "Well, if she only sighs at that, one cannot blame her," said Beppo, bluntly. " No one likes to have things spoiled. My father is the best-tempered man in Fiesole, but he scolds if the dinner is smoked or burnt — not that it often happens, to give Adele her due." "You had better go after Adele now, and eat her nice dinner, and give her all the praise, though Assunta must have cooked it," said Beatrice, spitefully, annoyed at Beppo's want of sympathy.

"While Adele helped you?" said Beppo, meaningly. Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. "It was pleasant here this morning, and then — Bruno likes this place," she said. "And so do I, but Adele can see us both at home," replied Beppo, laughing. " Come, Beatrice, don't be cross. You are hard up for a reason, to give that for Adele's good-nature." Beatrice looked intently at her companion,. but nothing but frank amusement was depicted on the good-tempered face. She opened her lips as if to speak, but apparently changed her mind, and laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh, from the rosy, perfect mouth. "Men are great fools," she said, mock ingly. " It is not only moles that are born blind." "What do you mean, Bice?" asked Beppo. " You are such an odd girl, I can never make you out." "Then why do you try, Signore?" she cried, mischievously, with a quick change of mood.

" Take my advice : give it up ; too much thought brings blood to the head, and the weather grows warmer. Besides, all the Vanni are full-blooded — you may be obliged to visit the pharmacy if you think too much. Give it up !" " I try because I love you, and a man likes to understand his wife," said Beppo, ■drawing a little nearer. "Very few succeed in doing so," said Beatrice, with an affectation of solemnity. "You remember the proverb, Tn buying a horse, and choosing a wife, shut both eyes tight, and recommend yourself to the good God.'" "Your husband will never follow one part of that advice, Bice, for he would not like to miss looking at you for a moment," said Beppo, tenderly. " Santa Madonna ! what a prospect ! How well I should have to behave! No, no, Beppo; if you have nothing more cheerful to promise me, I will die an old maid."