The Wing and Wing by J. Fenimore Cooper

J >> J. Fenimore Cooper >> The Wing and Wing

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"We will first inquire the name of this worthy man, if you will
condescend to ask it," observed Nelson to his fair friend.

"Carlo Giuntotardi, noble lady--once a poor scholar, in Napoli, here,
and now a keeper of the prince's watch-towers on the heights of
Argentaro," was the quiet but respectful answer of the man, who, like
his niece, had declined taking a seat, a circumstance that left the
whole party standing. "Carlo Giuntotardi, illustrious lady."

"A very good name, Signore, and one of which you have no need to be
ashamed. And thine?" turning to the girl.

"Ghita Caraccioli, Eccellenza; the sister's daughter of this honest
tower-keeper of the prince."

Had a bomb exploded over the Foudroyant, Nelson certainly would not have
been as much startled; while the lady's beautiful face assumed a look of
dark resentment, not unmingled with fear. Even Cuffe understood enough
of the sounds to catch the name, and he advanced a step with lively
curiosity and an anxious concern expressed on his ruddy face. But these
emotions soon subsided, the lady first regaining her self-possession,
though Nelson paced the cabin five or six times, working the stump of
his arm before he even looked up again.

"I was about to ask if there _never_ is to be an end to these
annoyances," observed the lady in English; "but there must be some
mistake in this. The house of Caraccioli is one of the most illustrious
of Italy, and can scarcely have any of this class, who feel an interest
in him of whom we are thinking. I will, therefore, inquire further into
this matter. Signorina,"--changing the language to Italian and speaking
with severity, like one who questioned what she heard--"Caraccioli is a
noble name, and is not often borne by the daughter of any prince's
tower-keepers!"

Ghita trembled, and she looked abashed. But she was sustained by too
high a principle and was too innocent herself to stand long rebuked in
the presence of guilt; and, as the flush which resembled that which so
often passes over her native skies at even left her countenance, she
raised her eyes to the dark-looking face of the lady and gave
her answer.

"I know what your Eccellenza means," she said, "and feel its justice.
Still it is cruel to the child not to bear the name of her parent. My
father was called Caraccioli, and he left me his name as my sole
inheritance. What may have been _his_ right to it, let my uncle say."

"Speak, then, Signor Giuntotardi. First give us the history of this
_name_; then tell us what has brought you here."

"Noble lady, my sister, as pious and innocent a woman as ever lived in
Italy, and now blessed in heaven, married Don Francesco Caraccioli, the
son of Don Francesco of that illustrious family, who now stands
condemned to death for having led the fleet against the king; and Ghita
here is the only fruit of the union. It is true that the church did not
authorize the connection which brought my niece's father into being; but
the noble admiral never hesitated to acknowledge his son, and he gave
him his name, until love bound him in wedlock with a poor scholar's
sister. Then, indeed, his father turned his face from him, and death
soon removed both husband and wife from the reach of all earthly
displeasure. This is our simple story, noble and illustrious signora,
and the reason why my poor niece, here, bears the name as great as that
of Caraccioli."

"You mean us to understand, Signor Giuntotardi, that your niece is the
grand-daughter of Don Francesco Caraccioli, through a natural son of
that unfortunate admiral?"

"Such is the fact, Signora. As _my_ sister was honestly married, I could
do no less than bring up her daughter to bear a name that her father was
permitted to bear before her."

"Such things are common and require no apology. One question more before
I explain to the English admiral what you have said. Does Prince
Caraccioli know of the existence of this grand-daughter?"

"Eccellenza, I fear not. Her parents died so soon--I loved the child so
well--and there was so little hope that one illustrious as he would wish
to acknowledge a connection through the holy church with persons humble
as we, that I have never done more to make my niece known than to let
her bear the same name as her father."

The lady seemed relieved by this; and she now briefly explained to
Nelson the substance of what the other had said.

"It may be," she added, "they are here on that errand, concerning which
we have already heard so much, and so uselessly; but I rather think not,
from this account; for what interest _can_ they feel in one who is
absolutely a stranger to them? It may be some idle conceit, however,
connected with this same affair. What is your wish, Ghita? This is Don
Horatio Nelsoni, the illustrious English admiral, of whom you have
heard so much."

"Eccellenza, I am sure of it," answered Ghita, earnestly; "my good
uncle, here, has told you who we are; and you may well guess our
business. We came from St. Agata, on the other side of the bay, only
this morning, and heard from a relation in the town that Don Francesco
had been seized that very hour. Since, we are told that he has been
condemned to die, for treason against the king; and that by officers who
met in this very ship. Some even say, Signora, that he is to meet his
fate ere the sun set."

"If this should be so, what reason is it that thou shouldst give
thyself concern?"

"Eccellenza, he was my father's father; and, though I never saw him, I
know that the same blood runs in our veins. When this is so, there
should be the same feelings in our hearts."

"This is well, Ghita, in appearance at least; but thou canst hardly feel
much for one thou never saw'st and who has even refused to own thee for
a child. Thou art young, too, and of a sex that should ever be cautious;
it is unwise for men, even, to meddle with politics in these
troubled times."

"Signora, it is not politics that brings me here, but nature, and duty,
and pious love for my father's father."

"What wouldst thou say, then?" answered the lady impatiently; "remember
thou occupiest one whose time is precious and of high importance to
entire nations."

"Eccellenza, I believe it, and will try to be brief. I wish to beg my
grandfather's life of this illustrious stranger. They tell me the king
will refuse him nothing, and he has only to ask it of Don Ferdinando to
obtain it."

Many would have thought the matured charms of the lady superior to the
innocent-looking beauty of the girl; but no one could have come to such
an opinion who saw them both at that moment. While Ghita's face was
radiant with a holy hope and the pious earnestness which urged her on, a
dark expression lowered about the countenance of the English beauty that
deprived it of one of its greatest attractions by depriving it of the
softness and gentleness of her sex. Had there not been observers of what
passed, it is probable the girl would have been abruptly repulsed; but
management formed no small part of the character of this woman, and she
controlled her feelings in order to effect her purposes.

"This admiral is not a Neapolitan, but an Englishman," she answered,
"and can have no concern with the justice of your king. He would
scarcely think it decent to interfere with the execution of the laws
of Naples."

"Signora, it is always decent to interfere to save life; nay, it is
more--it is merciful in the eyes of God."

"What canst thou know of this? A conceit that thou hast the blood of the
Caraccioli has made thee forget thy sex and condition, and placed a
romantic notion of duty before thine eyes."

"No, Signora, it is not so. For eighteen years have I been taught that
the unfortunate admiral was my grandfather; but, as it has been his
pleasure to wish not to see me, never have I felt the desire to intrude
on his time. Before this morning never has the thought that I have the
blood of the Caraccioli crossed my mind, unless it was to mourn for the
sin of my grandmother; and even now it has come to cause me to mourn for
the cruel fate that threatens the days of her partner in guilt."

"Thou art bold to speak thus of thy parents, girl, and they, too, of the
noble and great!"

This was said with a flushed brow and still more lowering look; for,
haply, there were incidents in the past life of that lady which made the
simple language of a severe morality alike offensive to her ears and her
recollections.

"It is not I, Eccellenza, but God, that speaketh thus. The crime, too,
is another reason why this great admiral should use his influence to
save a sinner from so hurried an end. Death is terrible to all but to
those who trust, with heart and soul, to the mediation of the Son of
God; but it is doubly so when it comes suddenly and unlooked for. It is
true, Don Francesco is aged; but have you not remarked, signora, that it
is these very aged who become hardened to their state, and live on, as
if never to die?--I mean those aged who suffer youth to pass, as if the
pleasures of life are never to have an end."

"Thou art too young to set up for a reformer of the world, girl; and
forgettest that this is the ship of one of the greatest officers of
Europe, and that he has many demands on his time. Thou canst now go; I
will repeat what thou hast said."

"I have another request to ask, Eccellenza--permission to see Don
Francesco; that I may at least receive his blessing."

"He is not in this ship. Thou wilt find him on board the Minerva
frigate; no doubt he will not be denied. Stop--these few lines will aid
thy request. Addio, signorina."

"And may I carry hope with me, Eccellenza? Think how sweet life is to
those who have passed their days so long in affluence and honor. It
would be like a messenger from heaven for a grand-child to bring but a
ray of hope."

"I authorize none. The matter is in the hands of the Neapolitan
authorities, and we English cannot meddle. Go, now, both of you--the
illustrious admiral has business of importance that presses."

Ghita turned, and slowly and sorrowfully she left the cabin. At the very
door she met the English lieutenant, who was in charge of the unhappy
prisoner, coming with a last request that he might not be suspended like
a thief, but might at least die the death of a soldier. It would exceed
the limits set to our tale were we to dwell on the conversation which
ensued; but every intelligent reader knows that the application failed.

CHAPTER XIV.

"Like other tyrants, Death delights to smite
What smitten most proclaims the pride of power,
And arbitrary nod."

YOUNG.

It is probable that Nelson never knew precisely what passed between
Ghita and the lady mentioned in the last chapter. At all events, like
every other application that was made to the English admiral in
connection with this sad affair, that of Ghita produced no results.
Even the mode of execution was unchanged; an indecent haste accompanying
the whole transaction, as in the equally celebrated trial and death of
the unfortunate Duc d'Enghien. Cuffe remained to dine with the
commander-in-chief, while Carlo Giuntotardi and his niece got into their
boat and took their way through the crowded roadstead toward the
Neapolitan frigate that now formed the prison of the unfortunate
Caraccioli.

A request at the gangway was all that was necessary to procure an
admission on board the ship. As soon as the Signor Giuntotardi reached
the quarter-deck he let his errand be known, and a messenger was sent
below to ascertain if the prisoner would see two visitors, the name of
the uncle being alone given. Francesco Caraccioli, of the Princes
Caraccioli, or, as he was more commonly called in English, Prince
Caraccioli, was now a man approaching seventy; and, being a member of
one of the most illustrious houses of lower Italy, he had long been
trusted in employments of high dignity and command. On his offence--its
apology--the indecent haste of his trial and execution, and the
irregularity of the whole proceedings, it is now unnecessary to dwell;
they have all passed into history, and are familiarly known to the
world. That very morning had he been seized and sent on board the
Foudroyant; in the cabin of that vessel had a court of his own
countrymen convened; and there had he been hastily condemned to death.
The hour of doom was near, and he was already in the ship where the
execution was to take place.

The messenger of Carlo Giuntotardi found this unfortunate man with his
confessor, by whom he had just been shrived. He heard the request with
cold indifference, but granted it on the instant, under the impression
that it came from some dependent of his family or estates, who had a
last favor to ask, or an act of justice to see performed.

"Remain here, father, I beseech you." said the prisoner, perceiving
that the priest was about to retire; "it is some contadino, or some
tradesman, whose claims have been overlooked. I am happy that he has
come: one would wish to stand acquitted of injustice before he dies. Let
them come in, my friend."

A sign was given with these words, the door of the cabin was opened, and
Ghita, with her uncle, entered. A pause of quite a minute followed,
during which the parties regarded each other in silence, the prisoner
endeavoring in vain to recall the countenances of his guests, and the
girl trembling, equally with grief and apprehension. Then the last
advanced to the feet of the condemned man, knelt, bowed her head,
and said:

"Grandfather, your blessing on the child of your only son."

"Grandfather!--Son!--and his child!" repeated Don Francesco. "I _had_ a
son, to my shame and contrition be it now confessed, but he has long
been dead, I never knew that he left a child!"

"This is his daughter, Signore," replied Carlo Giuntotardi; "her mother
was my sister. You thought us then too humble to be received into so
illustrious a connection, and we have never wished to bring ourselves
before your eyes until we thought our presence might be welcome."

"And thou comest now, good man, to claim affinity with a condemned
criminal!"

"Not so, grandfather," answered a meek voice at his feet, "it is your
son's daughter that craves a blessing from her dying parent. The boon
shall be well requited in prayers for your soul!"

"Holy father! I deserve not this! Here has this tender plant lived,
neglected in the shade, until it raises its timid head to offer its
fragrance in the hour of death! I deserve not this!"

"Son, if heaven offered no mercies until they are merited, hopeless,
truly, would be the lot of man. But we must not admit illusions at such
a moment. Thou art not a husband, Don Francesco; hadst thou ever a son?"

"That, among other sins, have I long since confessed; and as it has been
deeply repented of, I trust it is forgiven. I had a son--a youth who
bore my name, even; though he never dwelt in my palace, until a hasty
and indiscreet marriage banished him from my presence. I ever intended
to pardon him, and to make provision for his wants; but death came too
soon to both husband and wife to grant the time. This much I _did_ know,
and it grieved me that it was so; but of his child, never before this
instant have I heard! 'Tis a sweet countenance, father; it seems the
very abode of truth!"

"Why should we deceive you, grandfather?" rejoined Ghita, stretching her
arms upward, as if yearning for an embrace; "most of all at a time like
this! We come not for honors, or riches, or your great name; we come
simply to crave a blessing, and to let you know that a child of your own
blood will be left on earth to say aves in behalf of your soul"!

"Holy priest, there can be no deception here! This dear child even looks
like her wronged grandmother! and my heart tells me she is mine. I know
not whether to consider this discovery a good or an evil at this late
hour, coming as it does to a dying man!"

"Grandfather, your blessing. Bless Ghita once, that I may hear the sound
of a parent's benediction."

"Bless thee!--bless thee, daughter!" exclaimed the admiral, bending over
the weeping girl to do the act she solicited, and then raising her to
his arms and embracing her tenderly; "this _must_ be my child--I feel
that she is no other."

"Eccellenza," said Carlo, "she is the daughter of your son, Don
Francesco, and of my sister, Ghita Giuntotardi, born in lawful wedlock.
I would not deceive any--least of all a dying man."

"I have no estate to bequeathe--no honors to transmit--no name to boast
of. Better the offspring of the lazzaroni than a child of Francesco
Caraccioli, at this moment."

"Grandfather, we think not of this--care not for this. I have come only
to ask the blessing you have bestowed, and to offer the prayers of
believers, though we are so lowly. More than this we ask not--wish
not--seek not. Our poverty is familiar to us, and we heed it not. Riches
would but distress us, and we care not for them."

"I remember, holy father, that one great reason of displeasure at my
son's marriage was distrust of the motive of the family which received
him; yet here have these honest people suffered me to live on unmolested
in prosperity, while they now first claim the affinity in my disgrace
and ignominy! I have not been accustomed to meet with wishes and hearts
like these!"

"You did not know us, grandfather," said Ghita simply, her face nearly
buried in the old man's bosom. "We have long prayed for you, and
reverenced you, and thought of you as a parent whose face was turned
from us in anger; but we never sought your gold and honors."

"Gold and honors!" repeated the admiral, gently placing his
grand-daughter in a chair. "These are things of the past for me. My
estates are sequestered--my name disgraced; and, an hour hence, I shall
have suffered an ignominious death. No selfish views _can_ have brought
these good people, father, to claim affinity with me at a moment
like this."

"It comes from the goodness of God, son. By letting you feel the
consolation of this filial love, and by awakening in your own bosom the
spark of parental affection, he foreshadows the fruits of his own mercy
and tenderness to the erring but penitent. Acknowledge his bounty in
your soul; it may bring a blessing on your last moment."

"Holy priest, I hope I do. But what says this?--"

Don Francesco took a note from the hand of a servant and read its
contents eagerly; the world and its feelings having too much hold on
his heart to be plucked out in an instant. Indeed so sudden had been his
arrest, trial, and conviction, that it is not surprising the priest
found in him a divided spirit, even at an instant like that. His
countenance fell, and he passed a hand before his eyes, as if to conceal
a weakness that was unbecoming.

"They have denied my request, father," he said, "and I must die like a
felon--"

"The Son of God suffered on the cross suspended between thieves."

"I believe there is far less in these opinions than we are accustomed to
think--yet it is cruel for one who has filled so high employments--a
prince--a Caraccioli, to die like a lazzarone!"

"Grandfather--"

"Did you speak, child? I wonder not that this indignity should fill thee
with horror."

"It is not _that_, grandfather," resumed Ghita, shaking off her doubts
and looking up with flushed cheeks and a face radiant with holy
feelings--"Oh! it is not _that_. If my life could save thine, gladly
would I give it up for such a purpose; but do not--do not--at this awful
moment mistake the shadow for the substance. What matters it how death
is met when it opens the gates of heaven? Pain, I am sure, _you_ cannot
fear;--even I, weak and feeble girl that I am, can despise _that_--what
other honor can there be in the hour of death than to be thought worthy
of the mercy and care of God? Caraccioli or lazzarone--prince or
beggar--it will matter not two hours hence; and let me reverently beg of
you to humble your thoughts to the level which becomes all sinners."

"Thou say'st thou art my grand-child, Ghita--the daughter of my son
Francesco?"

"Signore, I am, as all tell me--as my heart tells me--and as I believe."

"And thou look'st upon these opinions as unworthy--_unsuited_, if thou
lik'st that better--to this solemn moment, and considerest the _manner_
of a death a matter of indifference, even to a soldier?"

"When placed in comparison with his hopes of heaven--when viewed through
his own demerits, and the merits of his Saviour, grandfather."

"And wilt thou, then, just entering on the stage of life, with the world
before thee, and all that its future can offer, accompany me to the
scaffold; let it be known to the mocking crowd that thou derivest thy
being through the felon, and art not ashamed to own him for a parent?"

"I will, grandfather--this have I come to do," answered Ghita, steadily.
"But do not ask me to look upon thy sufferings! All that can be done to
lessen, by sharing thy disgrace, if disgrace it be, will I most gladly
do; though I dread to see thy aged form in pain!"

"And this wilt thou do for one thou never beheld'st until this
hour?--one thou canst hardly have been taught to consider just
to thyself?"

"If I have never seen thee before this visit, grandfather, I have loved
thee and prayed for thee from infancy. My excellent uncle early taught
me this duty; but he never taught me to hate thee or any one. My own
father is taken away; and that which he would have been to thee this day
will I endeavor to be for him. The world is naught to me; and it will
console thee to think that one is near whose heart weeps for thee and
whose soul is lost in prayers for thy eternal pardon."

"And this being, father, is made known to me an hour before I die! God
punishes me sufficiently for the wrong I've done her, in letting me thus
know her worth, when it is too late to profit by it. No, Ghita--blessed
child, such a sacrifice shall not be asked of thee. Take this cross--it
was my mother's; worn on her bosom, and has long been worn on mine--keep
it as a memorial of thy unhappy parent, and pray for me; but quit this
terrible ship, and do not grieve thy gentle spirit with a scene that is
so unfit for thy sex and years. Bless thee--bless thee, my child. Would
to heaven I had earlier known thee--but even this glimpse of thy worth
has lightened my heart. Thou find'st me here a poor condemned criminal,
unable to provide for thy future wants--nay, I can yet do a little for
thee, too. This bag contains gold. It has been sent to me by a relative,
thinking it might be of service in averting the punishment that awaits
me. For that purpose it is now useless; with thy simple habits, however,
it will render thy life easy and above care."

Ghita, with streaming eyes, steadily put aside the gold, though she
pressed the cross to her bosom, kissing it fervently again and again.

"Not that--not that, grandfather," she said; "I want it not--wish it
not. This is enough; and this will I keep to my own last moment. I will
quit the ship, too; but not the place. I see many boats collecting, and
mine shall be among them; my prayers shall go up to God for thee, now
thou art living, and daily after thou art dead. There needs no gold,
grandfather, to purchase a daughter's prayers."

Don Francesco regarded the zealous and lovely girl with intense feeling;
then he folded her to his heart once more, blessing her audibly again
and again. While thus employed the Foudroyant's bell struck once, and
then those of all the surrounding ships, English and Neapolitan,
repeated the stroke. This, Caraccioli, a seaman himself, well knew
denoted that the time was half-past four; five being the hour named for
his execution. He felt it necessary, therefore, to dismiss his new-found
relative, that he might pass a few more minutes alone with his
confessor. The parting was solemn but tender, and as Ghita left the
cabin her condemned grandfather felt as he would had he taken leave for
ever of one whom he had long loved, and whose virtues had been a solace
to him from the hour of his birth.

The deck of the Minerva presented a sorrowful scene, Although the
prisoner had been condemned by a court of Neapolitan officers, the trial
was had under the British ensign, and the feeling of the public was with
the prisoner. There existed no necessity for the hurry in which
everything had been done; no immediate danger pressed, and an example
would have been more impressive had there been less of the appearance of
a desire for personal vengeance, and more of the calm deliberation of
justice in the affair. Ghita's connection with the prisoner could not be
even suspected; but as it was known that she had been in the cabin, and
believed that she felt an interest in the condemned, the officers
manifested an interest in her wishes and too evident emotions. An
immense throng of boats had assembled around the ship; for, hasty as had
been the proceedings, the tidings that Francesco Caraccioli was to be
hanged for treason spread like wildfire; and scarce a craft of proper
size was left within the mole, so eager was the desire to witness that
which was to occur. Either in the confusion, or bribed by money, the man
who had brought off Carlo Giuntotardi and his niece was no longer to be
found, and the means of quitting the ship seemed momentarily to be lost.

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