W. Somerset Maugham: Novels, Short Stories, Plays & Travel Sketches (33 Titles In One Edition). Уильям Сомерсет Моэм
And the other two also were unknown. Checco examined the face of the last, and shook his head. But a man broke out excitedly,—
'Ah! I know him.'
A cry from us all.
'Who is it?'
'I know him. It is a soldier, one of the Count's guard.'
'Ah!' said Matteo and Checco, looking at one another. 'One of the Count's guard!'
'That is a lie,' said Ercole. 'I know them all, and I have never seen that face before. It is a footpad, I tell you.'
'It is not. I know him well. He is a member of the guard.'
'It is a lie, I tell you.'
'Ercole is doubtless right,' said Checco. 'They are common thieves. Let them be taken away. They have paid a heavy price for their attempt. Good-night, my friends. Good-night, Ercole, and thanks.'
The guard took hold of the dead men by the head and by the feet, and one after another, in single file, they bore them off down the dark street. We three moved on, the crowd gradually melted away, and everything again became dark and silent.
We walked home side by side without speaking. We came to the Palazzo Orsi, entered, walked upstairs, one after the other, into Checco's study, lights were brought, the door closed carefully, and Checco turned round to us.
'Well?'
Neither I nor Matteo spoke. Checco clenched his fist, and his eyes flashed as he hissed out,—
'The cur!'
We all knew the attempt was the Count's....
'By God! I am glad you are safe,' said Matteo.
'What a fool I was to be taken in by his protestations! I ought to have known that he would never forget the injury I had done him.'
'He planned it well,' said Matteo.
'Except for the soldier,' I remarked. 'He should not have chosen anyone who could be recognised.'
'Probably he was the leader. But how well he managed everything, keeping us after the others, and nearly persuading Filippo and me to go home before you. Caterina was in the plot.'
'I wonder he did not defer the attempt when he found you would not be alone,' I said to Checco.
'He knows I am never alone, and such an opportunity would not easily occur again. Perhaps he thought they could avoid you two, or even murder you as well.'
'But Ercole and his men?' I said.
'Yes, I have been thinking about them. The only explanation I have is that he placed them there to cover their flight if they succeeded, and if they failed or could not escape, to kill them.'
'As, in fact, they did. I thought I saw Ercole make a sign to the soldier who stabbed the only living one.'
'Possibly. The idea was evidently to destroy all witnesses and all opportunity for inquiry.'
'Well,' said Matteo, 'it will show others that it is dangerous to do dirty work for the Riario.'
'It will indeed!'
'And now, what is to happen?' said Matteo.
Checco looked at him, but did not reply.
'Do you still refuse to do to Girolamo as he has tried to do to you?'
Checco answered quietly,—
'No!'
'Ah!' we both cried. 'Then you consent?'
'I see no reason now for not taking the law into my own hands.'
'Assassination?' whispered Matteo.
And Checco answered boldly,—
'Assassination!' Then, after a pause, 'It is the only way open to me. Do you remember Lorenzo's words? They have been with me every day, and I have considered them very, very deeply: "Let Checco know that it is only the fool who proposes to himself an end, when he cannot or will not attain it; but the man who deserves the name of man marches straight to the goal with clearness of mind and strength of will. He looks at things as they are, putting aside all vain appearances, and when his intelligence has shown him the means to his end, he is a fool if he refuses them, and he is a wise man if he uses them steadily and unhesitatingly." I know the end, and I will attain it. I know the means, and I will use them steadily, without hesitation.'
'I am glad to hear you speak like that at last!' said Matteo. 'We shall have plenty to help us. The Moratini will join at once. Jacopo Ronchi and Lodovico Pansecchi are so bitter against the Count they will come with us as soon as they hear you have decided to kill the enemy of us all.'
'You are blind, Matteo. Do you not see what we must do? You mistake the means for the end.'
'What do you mean?'
'The death of Girolamo is only a means. The end is further and higher.'
Matteo did not speak.
'I must keep my hands clean from any base motive. It must not seem that I am influenced by any personal incentive. Nothing must come from me. The idea of assassination must come from outside.'
'Whom do you—'
'I think Bartolomeo Moratini must propose it, and I will yield to his instances.'
'Good! then I will go to him.'
'That will not do either. Neither you nor I must be concerned in it. Afterwards it must be clear to all minds that the Orsi were influenced solely by the public welfare. Do you see? I will tell you how it must be. Filippo must help us. He must go to Bartolomeo, and from his great affection for us talk of our danger and intreat Bartolomeo to persuade me to the assassination. Do you understand, Filippo?'
'Perfectly!'
'Will you do it?'
'I will go to him to-morrow.'
'Wait till the news of the attempt has spread.'
I smiled at the completeness with which Checco had arranged everything; he had evidently thought it all out. How had his scruples disappeared?
The blackness of the night was sinking before the dawn when we bade one another good-night.
XX
I Seemed to have slept a bare half-hour when I was awakened by a great noise downstairs. I got up, and looking out of the window saw a crowd gathered in the street below; they were talking and gesticulating furiously. Then I remembered the occurrence of the night, and I saw that the news had spread and these were citizens come to gather details. I went downstairs and found the courtyard thronged. Immediately I was surrounded by anxious people asking for news. Very contrary reports had circulated; some said that Checco had been killed outright, others that he had escaped, while most asserted that he was wounded. All asked for Checco.
'If he is unhurt, why does he not show himself?' they asked.
A servant assured them that he was dressing, and would be with them at once.... Suddenly there was a shout. Checco had appeared at the top of the stairs. They rushed towards him, surrounding him with cries of joy; they seized his hand, they clung to his legs, some of them touched him all over to see that he was indeed unwounded, others kissed the lappets of his coat.... Bartolomeo Moratini entered the court with his sons, and the people shrunk back as he came forward and embraced Checco.
'Thank God you are saved!' he said. 'It will be an evil day for Forli when anything happens to you.'
The people answered in shouts. But at that moment another sound was heard without—a long and heavy murmur. The people surrounding the doorway looked out and turned in astonishment to their neighbours, pointing to the street; the