English
Thecourseofthisnarrative,steadilyflowingon,bearsmeawayfromthemorning-timeofourmarriedlife,andcarriesmeforwardtotheend.
InafortnightmorewethreewerebackinLondon,andtheshadowwasstealingoverusofthestruggletocome.
MarianandIwerecarefultokeepLaurainignoranceofthecausethathadhurriedusback—thenecessityofmakingsureoftheCount.
ItwasnowthebeginningofMay,andhistermofoccupationatthehouseinForestRoadexpiredinJune.
Ifherenewedit(andIhadreasons,shortlytobementioned,foranticipatingthathewould),Imightbecertainofhisnotescapingme.
Butifbyanychancehedisappointedmyexpectationsandleftthecountry,thenIhadnotimetoloseinarmingmyselftomeethimasIbestmight.
Inthefirstfulnessofmynewhappiness,therehadbeenmomentswhenmyresolutionfaltered—momentswhenIwastemptedtobesafelycontent,nowthatthedearestaspirationofmylifewasfulfilledinthepossessionofLaura’slove.
ForthefirsttimeIthoughtfaint-heartedlyofthegreatnessoftherisk,oftheadversechancesarrayedagainstme,ofthefairpromiseofournewlife,andoftheperilinwhichImightplacethehappinesswhichwehadsohardlyearned.Yes!letmeownithonestly.
ForabrieftimeIwandered,inthesweetguidingoflove,farfromthepurposetowhichIhadbeentrueundersternerdisciplineandindarkerdays.
InnocentlyLaurahadtemptedmeasidefromthehardpath—innocentlyshewasdestinedtoleadmebackagain.
Attimes,dreamsoftheterriblepaststilldisconnectedlyrecalledtoher,inthemysteryofsleep,theeventsofwhichherwakingmemoryhadlostalltrace.
Onenight(barelytwoweeksafterourmarriage),whenIwaswatchingheratrest,Isawthetearscomeslowlythroughherclosedeyelids,IheardthefaintmurmuringwordsescapeherwhichtoldmethatherspiritwasbackagainonthefataljourneyfromBlackwaterPark.
Thatunconsciousappeal,sotouchingandsoawfulinthesacrednessofhersleep,ranthroughmelikefire.
ThenextdaywasthedaywecamebacktoLondon—thedaywhenmyresolutionreturnedtomewithtenfoldstrength.
Thefirstnecessitywastoknowsomethingoftheman.Thusfar,thetruestoryofhislifewasanimpenetrablemysterytome.
Ibeganwithsuchscantysourcesofinformationaswereatmyowndisposal.
TheimportantnarrativewrittenbyMr.FrederickFairlie(whichMarianhadobtainedbyfollowingthedirectionsIhadgiventoherinthewinter)provedtobeofnoservicetothespecialobjectwithwhichInowlookedatit.
WhilereadingitIreconsideredthedisclosurerevealedtomebyMrs.ClementsoftheseriesofdeceptionswhichhadbroughtAnneCathericktoLondon,andwhichhadtheredevotedhertotheinterestsoftheconspiracy.
Here,again,theCounthadnotopenlycommittedhimself—here,again,hewas,toallpracticalpurpose,outofmyreach.
InextreturnedtoMarian’sjournalatBlackwaterPark.
AtmyrequestshereadtomeagainapassagewhichreferredtoherpastcuriosityabouttheCount,andtothefewparticularswhichshehaddiscoveredrelatingtohim.
ThepassagetowhichIalludeoccursinthatpartofherjournalwhichdelineateshischaracterandhispersonalappearance.
Shedescribeshimas“nothavingcrossedthefrontiersofhisnativecountryforyearspast”—as“anxioustoknowifanyItaliangentlemenweresettledinthenearesttowntoBlackwaterPark”—as“receivingletterswithallsortsofoddstampsonthem,andonewithalargeofficial-lookingsealonit.”
Sheisinclinedtoconsiderthathislongabsencefromhisnativecountrymaybeaccountedforbyassumingthatheisapoliticalexile.
Butsheis,ontheotherhand,unabletoreconcilethisideawiththereceptionoftheletterfromabroadbearing“thelargeofficial-lookingseal”—lettersfromtheContinentaddressedtopoliticalexilesbeingusuallythelasttocourtattentionfromforeignpost-officesinthatway.
Theconsiderationsthuspresentedtomeinthediary,joinedtocertainsurmisesofmyownthatgrewoutofthem,suggestedaconclusionwhichIwonderedIhadnotarrivedatbefore.
Inowsaidtomyself—whatLaurahadoncesaidtoMarianatBlackwaterPark,whatMadameFoscohadoverheardbylisteningatthedoor—theCountisaspy!
Laurahadappliedthewordtohimathazard,innaturalangerathisproceedingstowardsherself.
Iappliedittohimwiththedeliberateconvictionthathisvocationinlifewasthevocationofaspy.
Onthisassumption,thereasonforhisextraordinarystayinEnglandsolongaftertheobjectsoftheconspiracyhadbeengained,became,tomymind,quiteintelligible.
TheyearofwhichIamnowwritingwastheyearofthefamousCrystalPalaceExhibitioninHydePark.
Foreignersinunusuallylargenumbershadarrivedalready,andwerestillarrivinginEngland.
Menwereamongusbyhundredswhomtheceaselessdistrustfulnessoftheirgovernmentshadfollowedprivately,bymeansofappointedagents,toourshores.
MysurmisesdidnotforamomentclassamanoftheCount’sabilitiesandsocialpositionwiththeordinaryrankandfileo~foreignspies.
Isuspectedhimofholdingapositionofauthority,ofbeingentrustedbythegovernmentwhichhesecretlyservedwiththeorganisationandmanagementofagentsspeciallyemployedinthiscountry,bothmenandwomen,andIbelievedMrs.Rubelle,whohadbeensoopportunelyfoundtoactasnurseatBlackwaterPark,tobe,inallprobability,oneofthenumber.
Assumingthatthisideaofminehadafoundationintruth,thepositionoftheCountmightprovetobemoreassailablethanIhadhithertoventuredtohope.
TowhomcouldIapplytoknowsomethingmoreoftheman’shistoryandofthemanhimselfthanIknewnow?
Inthisemergencyitnaturallyoccurredtomymindthatacountrymanofhisown,onwhomIcouldrely,mightbethefittestpersontohelpme.
ThefirstmanwhomIthoughtofunderthesecircumstanceswasalsotheonlyItalianwithwhomIwasintimatelyacquainted—myquaintlittlefriend,ProfessorPesca.
Theprofessorhasbeensolongabsentfromthesepagesthathehasrunsomeriskofbeingforgottenaltogether.
Itisthenecessarylawofsuchastoryasminethatthepersonsconcernedinitonlyappearwhenthecourseofeventstakesthemup—theycomeandgo,notbyfavourofmypersonalpartiality,butbyrightoftheirdirectconnectionwiththecircumstancestobedetailed.
Forthisreason,notPescaalone,butmymotherandsisteraswell,havebeenleftfarinthebackgroundofthenarrative.
MyvisitstotheHampsteadcottage,mymother’sbeliefinthedenialofLaura’sidentitywhichtheconspiracyhadaccomplished,myvaineffortstoovercometheprejudiceonherpartandonmysister’stowhich,intheirjealousaffectionforme,theybothcontinuedtoadhere,thepainfulnecessitywhichthatprejudiceimposedonmeofconcealingmymarriagefromthemtilltheyhadlearnttodojusticetomywife—alltheselittledomesticoccurrenceshavebeenleftunrecordedbecausetheywerenotessentialtothemaininterestofthestory.
Itisnothingthattheyaddedtomyanxietiesandembitteredmydisappointments—thesteadymarchofeventshasinexorablypassedthemby.
ForthesamereasonIhavesaidnothinghereoftheconsolationthatIfoundinPesca’sbrotherlyaffectionforme,whenIsawhimagainafterthesuddencessationofmyresidenceatLimmeridgeHouse.
Ihavenotrecordedthefidelitywithwhichmywarm-heartedlittlefriendfollowedmetotheplaceofembarkationwhenIsailedforCentralAmerica,orthenoisytransportofjoywithwhichhereceivedmewhenwenextmetinLondon.
IfIhadfeltjustifiedinacceptingtheoffersofservicewhichhemadetomeonmyreturn,hewouldhaveappearedagainlongerethis.
But,thoughIknewthathishonourandhiscourageweretobeimplicitlyreliedon,Iwasnotsosurethathisdiscretionwastobetrusted,and,forthatreasononly,Ifollowedthecourseofallmyinquiriesalone.
ItwillnowbesufficientlyunderstoodthatPescawasnotseparatedfromallconnectionwithmeandmyinterests,althoughhehashithertobeenseparatedfromallconnectionwiththeprogressofthisnarrative.
Hewasastrueandasreadyafriendofminestillaseverhehadbeeninhislife.
BeforeIsummonedPescatomyassistanceitwasnecessarytoseeformyselfwhatsortofmanIhadtodealwith.UptothistimeIhadneveronceseteyesonCountFosco.
ThreedaysaftermyreturnwithLauraandMariantoLondon,IsetforthaloneforForestRoad,St.John’sWood,betweentenandeleveno’clockinthemorning.
Itwasafineday—Ihadsomehourstospare—andIthoughtitlikely,ifIwaitedalittleforhim,thattheCountmightbetemptedout.
Ihadnogreatreasontofearthechanceofhisrecognisingmeinthedaytime,fortheonlyoccasionwhenIhadbeenseenbyhimwastheoccasiononwhichhehadfollowedmehomeatnight.
Nooneappearedatthewindowsinthefrontofthehouse.
Iwalkeddownaturningwhichranpastthesideofit,andlookedoverthelowgardenwall.
Oneofthebackwindowsonthelowerfloorwasthrownupandanetwasstretchedacrosstheopening.
Isawnobody,butIheard,intheroom,firstashrillwhistlingandsingingofbirds,thenthedeepringingvoicewhichMarian’sdescriptionhadmadefamiliartome.
“Comeoutonmylittlefinger,mypret-pret-pretties!”criedthevoice.“Comeoutandhopupstairs!One,two,three—andup!Three,two,one—anddown!One,two,three—twit-twit-twit-tweet!”
TheCountwasexercisinghiscanariesasheusedtoexercisetheminMarian’stimeatBlackwaterPark.
Iwaitedalittlewhile,andthesingingandthewhistlingceased.“Come,kissme,mypretties!”saidthedeepvoice.
Therewasaresponsivetwitteringandchirping—alow,oilylaugh—asilenceofaminuteorso,andthenIheardtheopeningofthehousedoor.Iturnedandretracedmysteps.
ThemagnificentmelodyofthePrayerinRossini’sMoses,sunginasonorousbassvoice,rosegrandlythroughthesuburbansilenceoftheplace.
Thefrontgardengateopenedandclosed.TheCounthadcomeout.
HecrossedtheroadandwalkedtowardsthewesternboundaryoftheRegent’sPark.Ikeptonmyownsideoftheway,alittlebehindhim,andwalkedinthatdirectionalso.
Marianhadpreparedmeforhishighstature,hismonstrouscorpulence,andhisostentatiousmourninggarments,butnotforthehorriblefreshnessandcheerfulnessandvitalityoftheman.
Hecarriedhissixtyyearsasiftheyhadbeenfewerthanforty.
Hesaunteredalong,wearinghishatalittleononeside,withalightjauntystep,swinginghisbigstick,hummingtohimself,lookingupfromtimetotimeatthehousesandgardensoneithersideofhimwithsuperb,smilingpatronage.
Ifastrangerhadbeentoldthatthewholeneighbourhoodbelongedtohim,thatstrangerwouldnothavebeensurprisedtohearit.
Heneverlookedback,hepaidnoapparentattentiontome,noapparentattentiontoanyonewhopassedhimonhisownsideoftheroad,exceptnowandthen,whenhesmiledandsmirked,withaneasypaternalgoodhumour,atthenursery-maidsandthechildrenwhomhemet.
Inthiswayheledmeon,tillwereachedacolonyofshopsoutsidethewesternterracesofthePark.
Herehestoppedatapastrycook’s,wentin(probablytogiveanorder),andcameoutagainimmediatelywithatartinhishand.
AnItalianwasgrindinganorganbeforetheshop,andamiserablelittleshrivelledmonkeywassittingontheinstrument.
TheCountstopped,bitapieceforhimselfoutofthetart,andgravelyhandedtheresttothemonkey.“Mypoorlittleman!”
hesaid,withgrotesquetenderness,“youlookhungry.
Inthesacrednameofhumanity,Iofferyousomelunch!”
Theorgan-grinderpiteouslyputinhisclaimtoapennyfromthebenevolentstranger.
TheCountshruggedhisshoulderscontemptuously,andpassedon.
WereachedthestreetsandthebetterclassofshopsbetweentheNewRoadandOxfordStreet.
TheCountstoppedagainandenteredasmalloptician’sshop,withaninscriptioninthewindowannouncingthatrepairswereneatlyexecutedinside.
Hecameoutagainwithanopera-glassinhishand,walkedafewpaceson,andstoppedtolookatabilloftheoperaplacedoutsideamusic-seller’sshop.
Hereadthebillattentively,consideredamoment,andthenhailedanemptycabasitpassedhim.
“OperaBox-office,”hesaidtotheman,andwasdrivenaway.
Icrossedtheroad,andlookedatthebillinmyturn.
TheperformanceannouncedwasLucreziaBorgia,anditwastotakeplacethatevening.
Theopera-glassintheCount’shand,hiscarefulreadingofthebill,andhisdirectiontothecabman,allsuggestedthatheproposedmakingoneoftheaudience.
Ihadthemeansofgettinganadmissionformyselfandafriendtothepitbyapplyingtooneofthescene-paintersattachedtothetheatre,withwhomIhadbeenwellacquaintedinpasttimes.
TherewasachanceatleastthattheCountmightbeeasilyvisibleamongtheaudiencetomeandtoanyonewithme,andinthiscaseIhadthemeansofascertainingwhetherPescaknewhiscountrymanornotthatverynight.
Thisconsiderationatoncedecidedthedisposalofmyevening.
Iprocuredthetickets,leavinganoteattheProfessor’slodgingsontheway.
AtaquartertoeightIcalledtotakehimwithmetothetheatre.
Mylittlefriendwasinastateofthehighestexcitement,withafestiveflowerinhisbutton-hole,andthelargestopera-glassIeversawhuggedupunderhisarm.
“Areyouready?”Iasked.
“Right-all-right,”saidPesca.
Westartedforthetheatre.
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