Part 10 (1/2)

Immediately he was commanded to fill the office of scrivano to the Dey-- that post being vacant in consequence of the previous secretary having given his master some offence, for which he had had his head cut off.

But Lucien's elevation did not necessarily improve the condition of his father and brother. The Dey cared only for those slaves who made themselves useful to him; their relations he utterly ignored, unless they succeeded in gaining his regard. The Sicilians had too much common-sense to expect any great immediate advantage from the change, nevertheless, the slight hope which had been aroused by this event enabled the two who were left in the Bagnio to endure their lot with greater fort.i.tude and resignation. As for Lucien, he resolved to win the Dey's esteem in order to be able to influence him in favour of his father and brother.

”We must learn to submit, my son,” said Francisco, one evening, while he and Mariano were finis.h.i.+ng the last crumbs of the black bread which const.i.tuted their morning and evening meals.

”I admit it, father,” said Mariano, with a long-drawn sigh. ”Bacri was right; but it's not easy to bear. For myself, I think I could stand their insults and their lash better if they would only spare you, but when I see the villains strike you as they did to-day--oh, father!”-- Mariano flushed and clenched his hands--”it makes me so wild that I feel as though the blood would burst my veins. You cannot wonder that I find it impossible to submit.”

”G.o.d bless you, boy,” said Francisco, laying his hand on the youth's shoulder; ”I understand your feelings--nevertheless it were well that you learned to restrain them, for rebellion only works evil. You saw what was the consequence of your attacking the man who struck me to-day--you got knocked down and bastinadoed, and I--”

Francisco paused.

”Yes, go on, father, I know what you mean.”

”Well, I would not hurt your feelings by mentioning it--as you say, you know what I mean.”

”You mean,” said Mariano, ”that in consequence of my violence they gave you an additional flogging. True, father, true; and _that_ is the one thing that will now enable me to suffer in silence.”

At this point in the conversation they were interrupted by a deep groan from a young man in the cell opposite, which was prolonged into an appalling cry.

Most of the slaves in the foul den had finished their meagre meal and lain down on the hard floors to seek, in heavy slumber, the repose which was essential to fit them for the toils of the coming day.

Some of them awoke and raised themselves on their elbows, but sank back again on seeing that nothing particular had occurred. A few who had been rendered callous by their sufferings did not take the trouble to move, but Francisco and Mariano rose and hastened to the man, supposing him to have fallen into a fit. Mariano moved with difficulty owing to the chains, upwards of sixty pounds weight, which he wore as a punishment for his recent violence.

”Go--go back to your rest,” said the man, who lay with clenched teeth and hands, as Francisco kneeled beside him, ”there is nothing the matter with me.”

”Nay, friend, you are mistaken,” said Francisco, taking his hand kindly; ”your look, and that perspiration on your brow, tell me that something is the matter with you. Let me call our jailer, and--”

”Call our jailer!” exclaimed the young man, with a fierce laugh; ”d'you think that he'd take any notice of a sick slave? No, when we get sick we are driven out to work till we get well. If we don't get well, we are left to die.”

”Surely, surely not!” said Francisco.

”Surely not!” repeated the young man. ”Look; look there!”

He pointed as he spoke to the old man who lay on his back at full length in the recess next to his own.

”See. He is a free man now! I knew he was to be released to-night. I have seen many and many a one set free thus since I came here.”

Francisco was horrified, on going to the place where the old man lay, to find that he was dead. He had observed him tottering and looking very feeble at his work in the stone-quarries that day, but in his own misery had forgotten him since returning to the Bagnio.

”Too true!” he said, returning to the young man; ”his troubles are indeed ended; but tell me what is it that ails thyself.”

”'Tis memory,” said the young man, raising himself on his elbow, and gazing sadly into Francisco's face. ”Your conversation to-night for a moment aroused memories which I have long sought to stifle.--Lad,” he said, laying a hand impressively on Mariano's arm, ”take the advice that Bacri gave you. I was once as you are. I came here--years ago--with a father like thine; but he was an older and a feebler man. Like you, I fought against our fate with the ferocity of a wild beast, and they tortured me until my life hung by a thread, for I could not endure to see the old man beaten. As you said just now, `you cannot wonder that I found it impossible to submit,' but they taught me to submit. Oh! they are clever devils in their cruelty. They saw that I cared not for my life, but they also saw that I suffered through my father, and at last when _I_ became rebellious they beat _him_. _That_ tamed me, and taught me submission. The old one who lies there was a friend and comrade in sorrow of the dear father who was set free a year ago. I lay thinking of them both to-night, and when I saw you two taking the first steps on the weary path which I have trod so long--and have now, methinks, well-nigh finished--I could not restrain myself. But go--get all the rest you can. We cannot afford to waste the hours in talk. Only be sure, lad, that you take the Jew's advice--submit.”

Without replying, the father and son crept back to their hard couch.

Had they been in more comfortable circ.u.mstances their thoughts might have caused them to toss in feverish restlessness, but sheer muscular exhaustion, acting on healthy frames, caused them to fall at once into a deep slumber, from which they were rudely aroused next morning at four o'clock to proceed to the Marina, where they were to be engaged that day on certain repairs connected with the bulwarks of the harbour.

On the way down they were joined by an old man in a semi-clerical costume, whose gentle demeanour appeared to modify even the cruel nature of their savage guards, for they ceased to crack their whips at his approach, and treated him with marked respect.

Some of the slaves appeared to brighten into new creatures on beholding him, and spoke to him in earnest tones, addressing him as Padre Giovanni.