“I expected you,” said Blanès, after the first warm words of affection. Was the Priore speaking in his character as a diviner, or, indeed, as he often thought of Fabrizio, had some astrological sign, by pure chance, announced to him the young man’s return?
“This means that my death is at hand,” said Priore Blanès.
“What!” cried Fabrizio, quite overcome.
“Yes,” the Priore went on in a serious but by no means sad tone: “five months and a half, or six months and a half after I have seen you again, my life having found its full complement of happiness will be extinguished
Come face al mancar dell’alimento”
(as the little lamp is when its oil runs dry). “Before the supreme moment, I shall probably pass a month or two without speaking, after which I shall be received into Our Father’s Bosom; provided always that He finds that I have performed my duty in the post in which He has placed me as a sentinel.
“But you, you are worn out with exhaustion, your emotion makes you ready for sleep. Since I began to expect you, I have hidden a loaf of bread and a bottle of brandy for you in the great chest which holds my instruments. Give yourself that sustenance, and try to collect enough strength to listen to me for a few moments longer. It lies in my power to tell you a number of things before night shall have given place altogether today; at present I see them a great deal more distinctly than perhaps I shall see them tomorrow. For, my child, we are at all times frail vessels, and we must always take that frailty into account. Tomorrow, it may be, the old man, the earthly man in me will be occupied with preparations for my death, and tomorrow evening at nine o’clock, you will have to leave me.”
Fabrizio having obeyed him in silence, as was his custom:
“Then, it is true,” the old man went on, “that when you tried to see Waterloo you found nothing at first but a prison?”
“Yes, Father,” replied Fabrizio in amazement.
“Well, that was a rare piece of good fortune, for, warned by my voice, your soul can prepare itself for another prison, far different in its austerity, far more terrible! Probably you will escape from it only by a crime; but, thanks be to heaven, that crime will not have been committed by you. Never fall into crime, however violently you may be tempted; I seem to see that it will be a question of killing an innocent man, who, without knowing it, usurps your rights; if you resist the violent temptation which will seem to be justified by the laws of honour, your life will be most happy in the eyes of men … and reasonably happy in the eyes of the sage,” he added after a moment’s reflection; “you will die like me, my son, sitting upon a wooden seat, far from all luxury and having seen the hollowness of luxury, and like me not having to reproach yourself with any grave sin.
“And now, the discussion of your future state is at an end between us, I could add nothing of any importance. It is in vain that I have tried to see how long this imprisonment is to last; is it to be for six months, a year, ten years? I have been able to discover nothing; apparently I have made some error, and heaven has wished to punish me by the distress of this uncertainty. I have seen only that after your prison, but I do not know whether it is to be at the actual moment of your leaving it, there will be what I call a crime; but, fortunately, I believe I can be sure that it will not be committed by you. If you are weak enough to involve yourself in this crime, all the rest of my calculations becomes simply one long error. Then you will not die with peace in your soul, on a wooden seat and clad in white.” As he said these words, Priore Blanès attempted to rise; it was then that Fabrizio noticed the ravages of time; it took him nearly a minute to get upon his feet and to turn towards Fabrizio. Our hero allowed him to do this, standing motionless and silent. The Priore flung himself into his arms again and again; he embraced him with extreme affection. After which he went on, with all the gaiety of the old days: “Try to make a place for yourself among all my instruments where you can sleep with some comfort; take my furs; you will find several of great value which the Duchessa Sanseverina sent me four years ago. She asked me for a forecast of your fate, which I took care not to give her, while keeping her furs and her fine quadrant. Every announcement of the future is a breach of the rule, and contains this danger, that it may alter the event, in which case the whole science falls to the ground, like a child’s card-castle; and besides, there were things that it was hard to say to that Duchessa who is always so charming. But let me warn you, do not be startled in your sleep by the bells, which will make a terrible din in your ear when the men come to ring for the seven o’clock mass; later on, in the stage below, they will set the big campanone going, which shakes all my instruments. Today is the feast of San Giovita, Martyr and Soldier. As you know, the little village of Grianta has the same patron as the great city of Brescia, which, by the way, led to a most amusing mistake on the part of my illustrious master, Giacomo Marini of Ravenna. More than once he
