Clara Vaughan, Volume 3 (of 3), Page 3

  CHAPTER XII.

  Though Lily and I were most desirous to keep things as quiet aspossible, by this time our engagement was talked of in every house ofthe Balagna. That paternal fusileer and my merry yachtsmen, althoughthey looked the other way whenever we approached, would not permit theflower of Corsica, as she was now proclaimed, to blush with me unseen.My sailors attended to her far more than to their business, and wouldhave leaped into the water for one smile of Lily.

  It is the fashion of the island to make a wedding jubilee; and theSignor was anxious to outdo all that had ever been done. We, absorbedin one another, did our best to disappoint him; but he scorned thenotion of any private marriage. I never shall forget how he knit hissilver brows when I made a last attempt to bring him to our views."Signor Vogheno, to me you appear to forget whose daughter it is thatloves you. Perhaps in your remote, but well regarded island maidens maybe stolen before their fathers can look round. Indeed, I have heardthat they leap over a broomstick. That is not the custom here.Fiordalisa Della Croce is my only child--the child of my old age; andnot altogether one to be ashamed of. I can afford to be hospitable, andI mean to be so."

  The Corsicans are a most excitable race, and, when affronted, seem tolash their sides as they talk. By the time the good Signor had finishedhis speech, every hair of his beard was curling with indignation. Buthis daughter sprang into his arms and kissed away the tempest, andpromised, if it must be so, to make herself one mass of gold and coral.So the Parolanti, or mediators, were invoked; an armistice for a weekwas signed, and honour pledged on either side. Free and haughty was thestep of the Signor Dezio as he set forth for the town to ordereverything he could see; and very wroth again he was, because I wouldnot postpone the day for him to get a shipload of trumpery fromMarseilles. This time I was resolved to have my way. Besides thefervour of my passion and my dread of accidents, the one thing of allothers I detest is to be stared at anywhere. And it is far worse to bestared at by a foreign race. The Corsicans are gentlemen by nature, butthey could not be expected to regard without some curiosity the luckystranger who had won their Lily.

  I will not weary you, as I myself was wearied, with all the ceremoniesof the wedding-day. All I wanted was my bride, and she wanted none butme: yet we could not help being touched by the hearty good-will of thecommune. The fame of Lily's beauty had spread even to Sardinia, andmany a handsome woman came to measure her own thereby. Clever as theyare at such things, not one of them could find a blemish or defect inLily, and our fair Balagnese told them to go home and break theirmirrors.

  It was a sweet spring morning, and amid a fearful din of guns andtrumpets, mandolins and fiddles, I waited with a nervous smile under thetriumphal arch in front of my fictitious house. A sham house had beenmade of boards, and boughs, and flowers, because it is most essentialthat the bride should be introduced to the bridegroom's dwelling. HereI was to receive the procession, which at last appeared. First camefifty well-armed youths, crowned with leaves and ribbons; thenfour-and-twenty maidens dressed alike, singing and scattering flowers,and then a boy of noble birth, mounted on a pony, and carrying thefreno, symbol of many scions. None of them I looked at; only for myLily. On a noble snow-white palfrey, decked from head to foot withflowers, her father walking at her side, came the bloom, the flower, thelily of them all, arrayed in clear white muslin, self-possessed, andsmiling. One glorious wreath was round her head; it was her own blackhair by her own sweet fingers twined with sprigs of myrtle. A sash, orfazoletto, of violet transparent crape, looped at the crown of her head,fell over the shy lift of her bosom, parting like a sunset cloud, wherethe boddice opened below the pear-like waist. To me she looked like awhite coralline rising through an amethyst sea. Behind her came theauthorities of the commune. The sham keys were already hanging at herslender zone. It was my place to lift her down and introduce herformally. This I did with excellent grace, feeling the weight of eyesupon me. But when I got her inside, I spoiled the folds of thefazoletto. I heard the old man shouting, "Who are ye gallant sons ofthe mountain, who have carried off my daughter? To me, indeed, ye seemto be brave and noble men, yet have ye taken her rather after the mannerof bandits. Know ye not that she is the fairest flower that ever wasreared in Corsica?"

  "Yes, old fellow, I know that well enough; and that's the very reasonwhy I have got her here." One more virgin kiss, and with Lily on myarm, forth I sally to respond.

  "Friends we are, who claim some hospitality. We have plucked thefairest flower on all the strands of Corsica, and we bear her to thepriest, fit offering for Madonna."

  "Bide on, my noble friends; then come and enjoy my feast."

  No more delay. The maids have got all they can do to keep in front ofus with their flowers. The armed youths stand on either side at theentrance to the church. The tapers are already lit, the passage up thelittle church is strewed with flowering myrtle. Lily, holding her veilaround her, walks hand in hand with me.

  Fiordalisa Della Croce now is Lily Vaughan; amidst a world of shouting,shooting, and cornamusas, we are led to the banqueting-room; there theyseat us in two chairs, and a fine fat baby is placed on Lily's lap, toremind her of her duties. She dandles it, and kisses it as if sheunderstood the business, and then presents it with a cap of corals andgay ribbons. Now Lily Vaughan throws off her fazoletto, and gives mefor a keepsake the myrtles in her hair. Then all who can claim kin withher, to the fortieth generation, hurry up and press her hand, and wishthe good old wish. "Long life and growing pleasure, sons like him, anddaughters like yourself."

  After the banquet, we were free to go, having first led off the ballo inthe Cerca dance. Thank God, my Lily is at last my own; she falls uponmy bosom weary and delighted. Clara, remember this: the little churchin which we were married is called St. Katharine's on the cliff; and Isigned the record in my proper name, Edgar Malins Vaughan: the Malins,very likely, they did not know from Valentine, for I always wrote itwith a flourish at the end. The Signor, with all his friends, escortedus to the limits of his domain; there we bade them heartily farewell,and they returned to renew the feast. My little yacht was in the bay,and we saw the boat push off to fetch us as had been arranged. We wereto sail for Girolata, where the Signor had a country-house, lonelyenough even for two such lovers. Three or four hours would take usthither, and the sun was still in the heavens. As no one now could seeus, Lily performed a little dance for my especial delight. How beamingshe looked, how full of spirits, now all the worry was over. Then shetripped roguishly at my side to the winding rocky steps that lead to St.Katharine's cove. The cove was like a well scooped in the giant cliffs.As we descended the steep and narrow stairs, my Lily trembled on my arm.The house and all the merry-makers were out of sight and hearing. Ofcourse we stopped every now and then, for the boat could not be at thelanding yet, and we had much to tell each other.

  As we stepped upon the beach, and under the eaves of a jutting rock, atall man stood before us. His eyes and beard were black as jet, and hewore the loose dress of a Southern seaman. Three sailors, unmistakeablyEnglish, were smoking and playing cards in the corner shade of thecliff. Lily started violently, turned pale, and clung to me, but facedthe intruder bravely. He was quite amazed at her beauty, I at hisinsolent gaze.

  "Fiordalisa Della Croce," he said with a pure Tuscan accent, "behold me!I am come to claim you."

  He actually laid his small, but muscular hand upon my Lily's shoulder.She leaped back as from a snake. I knew it must be Lepardo.

  "Sir," I said, as calmly as I could, "oblige me by allowing my wife topass."

  The sneering, supercilious look which he hardly deigned to spare me, washonest, compared to his foul stare at her.

  "Signor, she is too beautiful. I must have my rights. Come for herwhen I am tired, if any can tire of her."

  And he thrust his filthy, hairy lips under my own pet's hat. My musclesleaped, and my soul was in the blow. Down he went like a flail, and Ithought he wa
s stunned for an hour; but while I was bearing my pet tothe boat, which now was close to the beach, up he leaped, and rushed atme with a dagger--a dagger like one which you know. I did not see him,but Lily did over my shoulder; she sprang from my arms and flung herselfbetween us. He thrust her aside, and leaped at me like a panther,aiming straight at my heart. How he missed me I cannot tell, but thinkit was through Lily. Before he recovered, I closed with him, wrestedaway the weapon and flung it far into the sea. But one main thing Iomitted; I ought to have stunned him thoroughly. Into the boat withLily--I caught up an oar, and away we dashed. The three English sailorswere running up. As a wave took the boat about, one of them grasped thestern; down on his knuckles crashed my oar, and with a curse he let go.All right, all clear, off for the yacht for your lives. I would showfight, for my blood is up, but what would become of Lily? And we arebut three against four, and none of us have arms.

  Meanwhile, that black Italian, I can never call him a Corsican, sneakedaway to a tuft of sea-grass for his double-barrelled fusil. Bowing withall my might, I saw him examine the priming, lay his red cap on a rock,and the glistening gun on the cap, and, closing one eye, take steadyaim, not at me, but at Lily. Poor Lily sat on the thwart at my side,faintly staring with terror. No time to think; oar and all I dashed infront of my darling. A ping in the air, a jar on my wrist, a slightblow on my breast, and at my feet dropped the bullet. It had passedthrough the tough ash handle. Down, Lily, down, for God's sake; he isfiring the other barrel. I flung her down in the bilge water; the brutecannot see her now. Not quite so easily off. Up a steep rock heclimbed like a cat, the cursed gun still in his hand. He won fifty feetof vantage, and commanded the whole of the boat. We were not eightyyards away. There he coolly levelled at my prostrate Lily. I had greyhairs next morning. Forward, I threw myself, over my wife; me he mightkill if he chose. One lurch of the boat--a short sea was running--andmy darling's head was shown. He saw his chance and fired. Thank God,he had too little powder in; my own love is untouched. The ball fellshort of Lily, and passed through my left foot, in at the sole and outbelow the instep. Luckily I had retained my dancing shoes, or my thickboots would have kept the ball in my foot. The brute could not see thathe had hit any one, and he cursed us in choice Italian.

  Poor Lily had quite swooned away, and knew nothing of my wound. Overthe side of the yacht I lifted her myself, standing upon one leg. Noone else should touch her. So furious I was with that cold-bloodedmiscreant, that if I could only have walked, I would have returned tofight him. My men, too, were quite up for it. But when Lily came toherself, and threw her arms round me and wept, and thanked God and hersaints, I found my foot quite soaked in a pool of blood, and stiffening.Poor little dear! what a fuss she did make about it! I would have borneten times the pain for the smiles and tears she gave me. One thing wascertain--under the mercy of God, we owed our lives to each other, andheld them henceforth in common.

  As, with a flowing sheet, we doubled the craggy point, concealed closeunder the rocks we saw a low and snake-like vessel, of the feluccabuild. She was banked for three pair of sweeps, and looked a thoroughrover. This was, of course, Lepardo's boat. We now bore away forAjaccio, dear Lily having implored me not to think of Girolata, where nomedical aid could anyhow be procured. Moreover, she wanted to fly fromthat dark Lepardo; and I am quite willing to own that, despite mydelicious nursing, I was not ambitious to stand as target again duringour honeymoon.