Bertuccio

“ Was it Bertuccio's story of yesterday that filled her with foreboding? Hardly. Rather it seemed a pleasant thought that he and she should feel the bark of one of these great trees closing round them, and should have so beautiful a screen of brown bark and green moss to hide their love from all the world. No, no fear could touch the thought of any destiny with him: she was afraid only of herself.
"You are putting a mere nothing between us," the voice went on. "You are pretending that there is an obstacle when there is none, really."
"Only another man's happiness," murmured the girl. ”

“ I am not forgotten. They wish for secrecy, since we are to converse in a private room. I understand, Bertuccio has been sent by my protector."
The keeper spoke for a moment with an official, then opened the iron gates and conducted Andrea to a room on the first floor. The room was whitewashed, as is the custom in prisons, but it looked quite brilliant to a prisoner, though a stove, a bed, a chair, and a table formed the whole of its sumptuous furniture. Bertuccio sat down upon the chair, Andrea threw himself upon the bed; the keeper retired. ”

“ Peste, I thought you somewhat Corsican, a great deal smuggler, and an excellent steward; but I see you have other strings to your bow. You are no longer in my service, Monsieur Bertuccio."
"Oh, your excellency, your excellency!" cried the steward, struck with terror at this threat, "if that is the only reason I cannot remain in your service, I will tell all, for if I quit you, it will only be to go to the scaffold."
"That is different," replied Monte Cristo; "but if you intend to tell an untruth, reflect it were better not to speak at all." ”

“ You have trodden under foot all human and divine laws. Men cannot punish you; may God [Pg 126] weigh guilt and punishment with each other! Ali, do your duty."
Ali, with a powerful movement, pushed the bark from the shore. The tide seized the light vessel, and in a short while it disappeared from the horizon.
"Oh, count," stammered Bertuccio, beside himself, "you have given him his life."
"If Almighty God wishes him to be saved, let it be so. He has the right to punish and forgive," replied the count, solemnly. ”

“ Bertuccio, a simpleton, is not to receive what he has inherited from his father, until his thirtieth year, but his mother is to give him three hundred ducats whenever he demands them. He gets one hundred from her, and goes away and finds a man who is still striking a dead man whom he has murdered. In his compassion, the simpleton gives this man eighty pieces of gold, rescues the corpse, and spends the remaining twenty pieces in having it honourably buried. ”

“ Bertuccio alone turned pale whenever Benedetto's name was mentioned in his presence, but there was no reason why any one should notice his doing so. Villefort, being called on to prove the crime, was preparing his brief with the same ardor that he was accustomed to exercise when required to speak in criminal cases. ”

“ He is angry at not being allowed to die in his own way (although not afraid of death) ; and recollect that he suspected and hated Bertram from the first. Israel Bertuccio, on the other hand, is a cooler and more concentrated fellow: he acts upon principle and impulse; Calendaro upon impulse and example.
"So there's argument for you.
"The Doge repeats;—true, but it is from engrossing passion, and because he sees different persons, and is always obliged to recur to the cause uppermost in his mind. ”

“ Peering through heaven's roof upon its God.
"Ah, Bertho! Bertho!" the young traveller cried,
While rapid tears ran down her grief-touched cheeks:—
"Is there no way save this? My feet refuse
To do the bidding of my heart; no more
This faithful bosom thy delight shall be—
No more thine eyes shall smile into mine own
Till both swim full of bliss—no more thy mouth
Breathe its soft words and kisses on my cheek,
Naming me thine—thine only—thine forever!
Where art thou, Bertho? Bertho! Cruel Thug;
Sink thyself in the sea, presumptuous mount,
Till I can pluck my lover from thy breast!" ”

“ Bertrand loitered behind his men, slouching in the saddle and looking straight before him into the forest. The emotions in him were complex for the moment, so much so that they might have taken their temper from Broceliande itself. The rustling of leaves, for falling memories; the shrill piping of the wind, all human in its infinite anxiousness and dread. Humiliation and gloom were heavy on Bertrand’s soul. He had been shown his own likeness in the mirror of Tiphaïne’s honor, and the ugliness thereof had made him consider what manner of man he was. ”

“ Tiphaïne is above, playing chess with my father.”
Robin gave the spear and shield to one of the servants and embraced Bertrand when he dismounted. There was something comforting to the lad in having this strong man to bear him company.
“It will be a grim business, Bertrand. Croquart is to fight on Bamborough’s side, and Knowles and Calverly. Pssh! but who is afraid of the Flemish butcher? Come to my room; I will help you to disarm.”
He led Bertrand through the garden to his bedchamber joining the chapel, chattering all the way, with a restless smile on his boyish face. ”

“ The brown thickets swam by them as they cantered on through shadow and through sunlight. The sun sank low, hurling his slanting showers of gold over the bosom of Broceliande. Every forest monarch seemed afire, touched with a glory that was not of earth. The pungent scent of the rotting leaves rose up like invisible incense before the reddening altar of the west. Another league and they would be on the brink of the valley, and near the tower that Arletta hated.
Bertrand called a halt. He was a man who never racked his wits for strategy or battle craft. ”

“ The courier whom Berthier had sent to Milan has just arrived. You have had no time to write to me; that I can understand very well. In the midst of pleasures and amusements it would have been too much for you to make the smallest sacrifice for me. Berthier has shown me the letter you wrote to him. It is not my purpose to trouble you in your arrangements or in the festivities which you are enjoying; I am not worth the trouble; the happiness or the misery of a man you love no longer has not the right to interest you. ”

“ Bertrand turned from Robin with a half-uttered oath, picked up his spear, and moved towards his horse. There was no help for it; he must leave the coward to his shame. They needed men, not girls, at Mivoie.
XX Bertrand faltered as he was about to mount his horse and stood irresolute, like a man who repents of parting in anger from a friend. He thrust his spear into the grass, buckled the bridle round it, and went back towards Robin with a frown of thought upon his face. His promise to Tiphaïne had dared him to desert the lad, however much he might despise him for a weakling and a coward. ”

“ The barons around repeated the same among themselves, and, fixing their eyes on Bertrand, said,—"A brave fellow, the Breton." [Pg 110]
"Whether this be truth or no, Bertrand," continued the prince, "you have rejected my offer, and shall not escape without a good ransom. It vexes me to let you go at all, for your king has none like you; but as men say that I keep you prisoner because I fear you, you shall go free on payment of sufficient ransom. Men shall learn that I neither fear nor care for you." ”

“ Bertrand had broken fast alone in the hall, after keeping a vigil in the chapel with his sword and shield before him on the altar steps. He was to ride towards Dinan that day, for Xaintré had told him that Robin Raguenel had been chosen among the thirty, and Bertrand rode to seek him at La Bellière, and perhaps win a glimpse of Tiphaïne herself. His heart felt full of joy that morning, the joy of a man to whom life offers stirring days again. ”

“ He found that the peasant folk had covered him with an old cloak, and that simple touch of sympathy went to Bertrand’s heart.
The girl Marie came out of the woods singing a Breton song and carrying a bundle of sticks in her bosom. She threw them on the fire, and looked at Bertrand as he sat up and felt his wounded thigh. The night’s rest had put new strength and courage into him. He was no longer the fatalist drugged with the opiate of despair. The golden splendor of the woods, the blue sky, the glistening dew gave a sparkle to life and stirred the joy of being in him. ”

“ It befell, then, that on the morrow of her arrival she saw Bertrand pass before her lodging, a-horseback with his company, and albeit she knew him full well, natheless she asked the good woman of the inn who he was. The hostess answered, 'That is a stranger gentleman, who calleth himself Count Bertrand, a pleasant man and a courteous and much loved in this city; and he is the most enamoured man in the world of a she-neighbour of ours, who is a gentlewoman, but poor. ”

“ Bertrand’s hands gripped the blade of his sword as he lay with it crosswise under his throat. He saw Tiphaïne rise, draw aside, her face hidden by her hands. Bertrand felt numb at the sight of it, yet very humble. If she wept for Tinteniac, then Tinteniac was of all men the most to be honored. Honored? And Bertrand’s face burned with the hot memories of many unclean years—years when he had bartered his manhood for harlots’ kisses. ”

“ At that moment a pear drops and falls just beside Fenice's ear. She starts, awakes, sees Bertrand and cries aloud: "Friend, friend, we are lost! Here is Bertrand! If he escapes you, we have fallen into an evil trap. He will tell folk that he has seen us." Then has Bertrand perceived that it is the empress beyond all doubt. Need is there for him to depart, for Cliges had brought his sword with him into the orchard, and had laid it beside the couch. He springs up and has taken his sword, and Bertrand flees swiftly. ”

“ Dame du Guesclin fidgeted with the kerchief pouch at her girdle and frowned.
“Who, child, and where?”
“The man on the stool, with the dog.”
“That is Bertrand, my sweeting.”
“And who is Bertrand?”
“Why, child, my son.”
Tiphaïne’s great eyes were turned full upon the elder woman’s face. Lady Jeanne was red despite her pride, and ill at ease under the child’s pestering.
“Why does he not sit with us on the dais?”
“Why? Well, little one”—and the Lady Jeanne laughed—“Bertrand is a strange lad. He is not like Olivier or your brother Robin.” ”

“ Reader! you may already, perhaps, surmise that George Bertram does not become a clergyman. It is too true. That enthusiasm, strong, true, real as it was, did not last him much longer than his last walk round Jerusalem; at least, did not bide by him till he found himself once more walking on the High Street of Oxford. Very contemptible this, you will say. Yes, contemptible enough, as humanity so often is. Who amongst us have not made such resolves—some resolve of self-devotion, at the sound of the preacher's voice—and forgotten it before our foot was well over the threshold? ”

“ Bertrand stretched his arms and yawned.
“Food puts new courage into a man.”
She bent towards him with a sinuous gliding of the body, pouted out her lips, and put her face close to his.
“You are yourself again, lording.”
Bertrand kissed her, thinking of Tiphaïne, and swearing stoutly in his heart that he was beyond her scorn and pity. Arletta, red and happy, started up, and began to pile leaves and bracken into a bed beneath the tree. She made a pillow by rolling leaves up in an old tunic, and threw more wood upon the fire. ”

“ From amid the jumble of roofs, sharp-peaked, like waves in a choppy sea, Bertrand could hear the shouting of the soldiery who idled in the streets. In the east a full moon was rising, a huge buckler of burnished bronze, its light glimmering on the little river that wound about the town, and making the roofs and steeples white like glass. Between two houses Bertrand could get a glimpse of the market square and of the hostel where Croquart had his quarters. The fretted windows were red with torchlight, and Bertrand could see figures moving to and fro in the rooms within. ”

“ You see, Lady Filson, Master Bertram is endowed with an exceptionally active brain; and when I gave those assurances to you and Sir Randle last June, it occurred to him that, in the event of my book failing to attract the market, there was a danger of my palming it off, with the kind aid of my publisher, as the out-and-out triumph I'd bragged of in advance; and the loud blasts of Titterton's trumpet strengthened Master Bertie's apprehensions. [Ottoline, unobserved, rises unsteadily and, with her eyes fixed fiercely upon Bertram, crosses the room at the back.] ”

“ He caught her meaning, and understood—to his own cost—the significance of the thing she wished.
“You strike hard, but the blows are true,” he said. “I have lost what once was mine; I acknowledge it; a man can do no more.”
He sheathed his sword and took the swan from Tiphaïne, looking at her hands and nothing else. For Bertrand there was a bitter symbolism in the scene. The few pure memories he had given to the past were flung back to him like the dry petals of a cherished flower.
He thrust the silver swan under his surcoat, so that it was held there by his belt. ”

“ And of such one may say, that though we must of compulsion find their judgment to be in some sort delinquent, that their hearts more than make up for such delinquency. One knows that they are wrong, but can hardly wish them to be less so.
But George Bertram was not one of them: he had been in no hurry to condemn his father; but, having seen his sins, he knew them for sins, and did condemn them. He found that his uncle had been right, and that Sir Lionel was a man whom he could in no wise respect, and could hardly love. Money he perceived was his father's desire. ”