The Gadfly - E. L. Voynich (phonics readers .txt) 📗
- Author: E. L. Voynich
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The Gadfly took it without speaking. Then he
turned away and closed his eyes. Martini sat
down again, and listened as the breathing became
gradually deep and even.
The Gadfly was too much exhausted to wake
easily when once asleep. Hour after hour he lay
absolutely motionless. Martini approached him
several times during the day and evening, and
looked at the still figure; but, except the breathing,
there was no sign of life. The face was so
wan and colourless that at last a sudden fear seized
upon him; what if he had given too much opium?
The injured left arm lay on the coverlet, and he
shook it gently to rouse the sleeper. As he did
so, the unfastened sleeve fell back, showing a
series of deep and fearful scars covering the arm
from wrist to elbow.
“That arm must have been in a pleasant condition
when those marks were fresh,” said Riccardo’s voice
behind him.
“Ah, there you are at last! Look here,
Riccardo; ought this man to sleep forever? I
gave him a dose about ten hours ago, and he
hasn’t moved a muscle since.”
Riccardo stooped down and listened for a moment.
“No; he is breathing quite properly; it’s nothing
but sheer exhaustion—what you might expect
after such a night. There may be another
paroxysm before morning. Someone will sit up,
I hope?”
“Galli will; he has sent to say he will be here
by ten.”
“It’s nearly that now. Ah, he’s waking! Just
see the maidservant gets that broth hot. Gently
—gently, Rivarez! There, there, you needn’t
fight, man; I’m not a bishop!”
The Gadfly started up with a shrinking, scared
look. “Is it my turn?” he said hurriedly in
Spanish. “Keep the people amused a minute;
I–- Ah! I didn’t see you, Riccardo.”
He looked round the room and drew one hand
across his forehead as if bewildered. “Martini!
Why, I thought you had gone away. I must have
been asleep.”
“You have been sleeping like the beauty in the
fairy story for the last ten hours; and now you are
to have some broth and go to sleep again.”
“Ten hours! Martini, surely you haven’t been
here all that time?”
“Yes; I was beginning to wonder whether I
hadn’t given you an overdose of opium.”
The Gadfly shot a sly glance at him.
“No such luck! Wouldn’t you have nice quiet
committee-meetings? What the devil do you
want, Riccardo? Do for mercy’s sake leave me in
peace, can’t you? I hate being mauled about by
doctors.”
“Well then, drink this and I’ll leave you in
peace. I shall come round in a day or two,
though, and give you a thorough overhauling. I
think you have pulled through the worst of this
business now; you don’t look quite so much like
a death’s head at a feast.”
“Oh, I shall be all right soon, thanks. Who’s
that—Galli? I seem to have a collection of all
the graces here to-night.”
“I have come to stop the night with you.”
“Nonsense! I don’t want anyone. Go home,
all the lot of you. Even if the thing should come
on again, you can’t help me; I won’t keep taking
opium. It’s all very well once in a way.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Riccardo said.
“But that’s not always an easy resolution to stick
to.”
The Gadfly looked up, smiling. “No fear!
If I’d been going in for that sort of thing, I should
have done it long ago.”
“Anyway, you are not going to be left alone,”
Riccardo answered drily. “Come into the other
room a minute, Galli; I want to speak to you.
Good-night, Rivarez; I’ll look in to-morrow.”
Martini was following them out of the room
when he heard his name softly called. The Gadfly
was holding out a hand to him.
“Thank you!”
“Oh, stuff! Go to sleep.”
When Riccardo had gone, Martini remained a
few minutes in the outer room, talking with Galli.
As he opened the front door of the house he heard
a carriage stop at the garden gate and saw a
woman’s figure get out and come up the path. It
was Zita, returning, evidently, from some evening
entertainment. He lifted his hat and stood aside
to let her pass, then went out into the dark lane
leading from the house to the Poggio Imperiale.
Presently the gate clicked and rapid footsteps
came down the lane.
“Wait a minute!” she said.
When he turned back to meet her she stopped
short, and then came slowly towards him, dragging
one hand after her along the hedge. There
was a single street-lamp at the corner, and he saw
by its light that she was hanging her head down
as though embarrassed or ashamed.
“How is he?” she asked without looking up.
“Much better than he was this morning. He
has been asleep most of the day and seems less
exhausted. I think the attack is passing over.”
She still kept her eyes on the ground.
“Has it been very bad this time?”
“About as bad as it can well be, I should
think.”
“I thought so. When he won’t let me come
into the room, that always means it’s bad.”
“Does he often have attacks like this?”
“That depends–- It’s so irregular. Last
summer, in Switzerland, he was quite well; but
the winter before, when we were in Vienna, it was
awful. He wouldn’t let me come near him for
days together. He hates to have me about when
he’s ill.”
She glanced up for a moment, and, dropping her
eyes again, went on:
“He always used to send me off to a ball, or
concert, or something, on one pretext or another,
when he felt it coming on. Then he would lock
himself into his room. I used to slip back and sit
outside the door—he would have been furious if
he’d known. He’d let the dog come in if it
whined, but not me. He cares more for it, I
think.”
There was a curious, sullen defiance in her
manner.
“Well, I hope it won’t be so bad any more,”
said Martini kindly. “Dr. Riccardo is taking the
case seriously in hand. Perhaps he will be able to
make a permanent improvement. And, in any
case, the treatment gives relief at the moment.
But you had better send to us at once, another
time. He would have suffered very much less if
we had known of it earlier. Good-night!”
He held out his hand, but she drew back with
a quick gesture of refusal.
“I don’t see why you want to shake hands with
his mistress.”
“As you like, of course,” he began in embarrassment.
She stamped her foot on the ground. “I hate
you!” she cried, turning on him with eyes like
glowing coals. “I hate you all! You come here
talking politics to him; and he lets you sit up the
night with him and give him things to stop the
pain, and I daren’t so much as peep at him through
the door! What is he to you? What right have
you to come and steal him away from me? I hate
you! I hate you! I HATE you!”
She burst into a violent fit of sobbing, and, darting
back into the garden, slammed the gate in his face.
“Good Heavens!” said Martini to himself, as he
walked down the lane. “That girl is actually
in love with him! Of all the extraordinary
things–-”
CHAPTER VIII.
THE Gadfly’s recovery was rapid. One afternoon
in the following week Riccardo found him
lying on the sofa in a Turkish dressing-gown,
chatting with Martini and Galli. He even talked
about going downstairs; but Riccardo merely
laughed at the suggestion and asked whether he
would like a tramp across the valley to Fiesole to
start with.
“You might go and call on the Grassinis for a
change,” he added wickedly. “I’m sure madame
would be delighted to see you, especially now,
when you look so pale and interesting.”
The Gadfly clasped his hands with a tragic
gesture.
“Bless my soul! I never thought of that!
She’d take me for one of Italy’s martyrs, and talk
patriotism to me. I should have to act up to the
part, and tell her I’ve been cut to pieces in an
underground dungeon and stuck together again
rather badly; and she’d want to know exactly what
the process felt like. You don’t think she’d believe
it, Riccardo? I’ll bet you my Indian dagger
against the bottled tape-worm in your den that
she’ll swallow the biggest lie I can invent. That’s
a generous offer, and you’d better jump at it.”
“Thanks, I’m not so fond of murderous tools
as you are.”
“Well, a tape-worm is as murderous as a dagger,
any day, and not half so pretty.”
“But as it happens, my dear fellow, I don’t
want the dagger and I do want the tape-worm.
Martini, I must run off. Are you in charge of this
obstreperous patient?”
“Only till three o’clock. Galli and I have to go
to San Miniato, and Signora Bolla is coming till
I can get back.”
“Signora Bolla!” the Gadfly repeated in a tone
of dismay. “Why, Martini, this will never do!
I can’t have a lady bothered over me and my ailments.
Besides, where is she to sit? She won’t
like to come in here.”
“Since when have you gone in so fiercely for the
proprieties?” asked Riccardo, laughing. “My
good man, Signora Bolla is head nurse in general
to all of us. She has looked after sick people ever
since she was in short frocks, and does it better
than any sister of mercy I know. Won’t like to
come into your room! Why, you might be talking
of the Grassini woman! I needn’t leave any
directions if she’s coming, Martini. Heart alive,
it’s half-past two; I must be off!”
“Now, Rivarez, take your physic before she
comes,” said Galli, approaching the sofa with a
medicine glass.
“Damn the physic!” The Gadfly had reached
the irritable stage of convalescence, and was
inclined to give his devoted nurses a bad time.
“W-what do you want to d-d-dose me with all
sorts of horrors for now the pain is gone?”
“Just because I don’t want it to come back.
You wouldn’t like it if you collapsed when Signora
Bolla is here and she had to give you opium.”
“My g-good sir, if that pain is going to come
back it will come; it’s not a t-toothache to be
frightened away with your trashy mixtures. They
are about as much use as a t-toy squirt for a house
on fire. However, I suppose you must have your
way.”
He took the glass with his left hand, and the
sight of the terrible scars recalled Galli to the
former subject of conversation.
“By the way,” he asked; “how did you get so
much knocked about? In the war, was it?”
“Now, didn’t I just tell you it was a case of
secret dungeons and–-”
“Yes, that version is for Signora Grassini’s
benefit. Really, I suppose it was in the war with
Brazil?”
“Yes, I got a bit hurt there; and then hunting
in the savage districts and one thing and another.”
“Ah, yes; on the scientific expedition. You
can fasten your shirt; I have quite done. You
seem to have had an exciting time of it out there.”
“Well, of course you can’t live in savage countries
without getting a few adventures once in a
way,” said
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