Inevitable

XXXIX

GILIO HAD TAKEN THE ADVICE of his cousin, the Countess di Rosavilla. Immediately after dinner he crept outside, and walked through the pergola as far as the rotunda, through which moonlight fell as if into a white dish. But there was shadow behind some caryatids and there he hid. He waited for an hour. But the night slept, the caryatids slept, standing motionless and supporting the canopy of leaves. He cursed and crept inside. He walked down the corridors on tiptoe and listened at Van der Staal’s door. There was no sound, but perhaps he was asleep …?

But Gilio crept down another corridor, and listened at Cornélie’s door. He held his breath … Yes, there was the sound of voices. They were together! Together!! He clenched his fists and went back, But why was he getting excited! He knew about their affair, didn’t he? Why should they not be together here? And he knocked at the countess’s door …

The following evening he again waited at the rotunda. But they did not come. After a few evenings, as he sat waiting, fighting down his irritation, he saw them approaching. He saw Duco closing the terrace gate behind him: the lock creaked rustily in the distance. He saw them approaching slowly in the light, then fading in the shadow and emerging again into the moonlight. She sat on a marble bench … How happy they seemed! He was jealous of their happiness; mainly jealous of him. And how soft and tender she was, she who thought him, Gilio, fit only for amusement, for flirting with: a clown; she, the demonic woman, was angelic with the man she loved! She leaned towards her lover with a smiling caress, with a curving of her arm, and an approach of her lips, with a fervently enfolding motion, with such a velvety languor of love, that he would never have suspected in her, with her cold, joking flirting with him, Gilio. Now she was leaning on Duco’s arm, on his chest, her face against his … Oh her kiss, how it set Gilio aflame and enraged him! This was no longer her icy sensual indifference to him, Gilio, in the camera degli sposi! And he could no longer contain himself: he would at least disrupt this moment of love. And trembling with nervousness, he emerged from behind the caryatid, and went towards them through the rotunda. They did not see him immediately, lost as they were in each other’s eyes … But suddenly they started, both at once; their arms dropped to their sides, and they stood up on a single movement and saw him approaching, obviously not recognising him at once. Only when he was very close did they recognise him and they looked at him silently in alarm, waiting to hear what he had to say. He made an ironic bow.

“A lovely evening, isn’t it? The view is so lovely from the pergola at night. You’re right to come and enjoy it. I hope I’m not disturbing you with my unexpected presence!”

His trembling voice was so malevolently quarrelsome that they could be in no doubt about his intense displeasure.

“Of course not, prince!” replied Cornélie, regaining her composure. “Although I’m puzzled as to what you’re doing here at this hour.”

“And what are you doing here at this hour?”

“What am I doing here? I’m sitting here with Van der Staal …”

“At this hour?”

“At this hour! What do you mean, prince, what are you getting at?”

“What am I getting at? That the pergola is closed at night.”

“Prince,” said Duco, “I don’t like your tone.”

“And I don’t like you at all …”

“If you were not my host, I’d give you a slap in the face …” Cornélie held Duco’s arm back: the prince cursed and clenched his fists.

“Prince,” she said. “It’s obvious that you want to provoke a scene with us. Why? What objection do you have to my meeting Van der Staal here at night? Firstly, our affair is no secret to you. And secondly, I consider it unworthy of you to come and spy on us here.”

“Unworthy? Unworthy?” He was incapable of controlling himself any longer. “I’m unworthy, petty, coarse, and not a real man, I don’t have the kind of temperament that suits you? His temperament suits you all right, doesn’t it? I heard the sound of your kiss. Devil! Devil! Demon! No one has ever insulted me like you. I have never put up with as much from anybody. I won’t any longer! You struck me, demon, devil! He, he threatens to hit me. My patience is at an end. I can’t bear your refusing me, in my own house, what you grant to him … He is not your husband! He is not your husband! I have just as much right as he has, and if he reckons that he has more right than I do, then I hate him! …”

And he flew at Duco in blind fury, attacking his throat. The assault was so unexpected that Duco stumbled. They wrestled together, both furious. All their suppressed antipathy exploded into rage. They did not hear Cornélie’s entreaties, they punched each other, encircled each other’s arms and legs, chest pressed against chest. Then Cornélie saw something flash. In the light she saw the prince draw a knife. But the very movement gave Duco the advantage; he seized the prince’s wrist in a grip of iron and forced him to the ground, pressed his knee firmly against Gilio’s chest and with the other hand grasped his throat.

“Let go,” screamed the prince.

“Let go of that knife!” screamed Duco.

The prince refused and hung on to it.

“Let go,” he screamed again.

“Let go of that knife …”

The knife fell from his grasp. Duco grabbed it and stood up.

“Get up!” he said. “If you want we can continue this fight tomorrow in a less primitive way. Not with a knife but with swords or pistols.”

The prince had got up. He was panting, blue in the face … He came to his senses.

“No,” he said slowly. “I don’t want to fight a duel. Unless you do. But I don’t want to. I’m beaten … There’s a demonic force in her, which would always ensure that you won, whatever game we played. We have already duelled. This fight means more to me than an ordinary duel. Only if you wish, then I have no objection. But now I know for sure that you would kill me. She is protecting you …”

“I don’t want a duel,” said Duco.

“Then let us regard this fight as a duel, and let us shake hands …”

Duco put out his hand, and Gilio shook it.

“Forgive me,” he said condescendingly to Cornélie, “I have insulted you …”

“No,” she said. “I won’t forgive you.”

“We must forgive each other. I forgive you your slap.”

“I’m not forgiving you anything. I will never forgive you this evening, not your spying, not your lack of self control, not your rights that you seem to think you can exert over me as an unmarried woman, although I concede you no rights: neither your attack, nor your knife.”

“So we are enemies for ever?”

“Yes, forever. I shall leave your house tomorrow …”

“I acted wrongly,” he admitted humbly. “Forgive me. My blood is hot.”

“Up to now I have known you as a gentleman …”

“I am also an Italian.”

“I won’t forgive you.”

“I have proved to you in the past that I could be a good friend.”

“This is not the moment to remind me.”

“I’m reminding you of everything that might make you better disposed towards me.”

“That is all to no avail.”

“Enemies then?”

“Yes. Let us go in. I shall leave your house tomorrow …”

“I will perform any penance you impose on me.”

“I am not imposing anything on you. I want to end this conversation and I want to go home.”

“I shall lead the way …”

He did so. They walked through the pergola. He opened the terrace gate himself and let them through first.

They went to their rooms in silence.

The castle was asleep and in darkness. The prince lit the way with a match. Duco reached his room first.

“I shall light your way a little further,” said the prince humbly.

He accompanied Cornélie to her door with a second match. There he fell on his knees.

“Forgive me,” he whispered with a catch in his throat.

“No,” she said.

And without further ado she closed the door behind her. He stayed kneeling for a moment. Then he slowly got up. His neck was hurting. His shoulder felt as if he had dislocated it.

“It’s over,” he muttered. “I am beaten. She is stronger than me now, but not because she is a devil. I saw them together … I saw their embrace. She is stronger, he is stronger than I am … because of their happiness … I feel that, because of their happiness, they will always be stronger than me …”

He went to his room, which adjoined Urania’s bedroom. Sobs welled up in his chest. He threw himself, fully clothed, on his bed, swallowing his sobs in the slumbering night, which wrapped the castle in its downy folds. Then he got up, and looked out of the window. He saw the lake. He saw the pergola where they had fought a moment ago. The night was asleep, the caryatids rose gleaming from the shadow. And he tried to pinpoint the place of their fight and his defeat. And thinking superstitiously of their happiness he felt that it would never be possible to fight against it, never. Then he shrugged his shoulders, as if throwing off a burden.

“Non fa niente!” he said, consoling himself. “Domani meglio …”

By that he meant that tomorrow he would win, if not this victory, then another. And with his eyes still wet, he fell asleep like a child.