The Gadfly Ethel Voynich (e reader manga TXT) 📖

from the point of view of utility⁠—the greatest good of the greatest number. Your ‘final value’⁠—isn’t that what the economists call it?⁠—is higher than mine; I have brains enough to see that, though I haven’t any cause to be particularly fond of you. You are a bigger man than I am; I’m not sure that you are a better one, but there’s more of you, and your death would be a greater loss than mine.”

From the way he spoke he might have been discussing the value of shares on the Exchange. The Gadfly looked up, shivering as if with cold.

“Would you have me wait till my grave opens of itself to swallow me up?

“If I must die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride⁠—

“Look here, Martini, you and I are talking nonsense.”

“You are, certainly,” said Martini gruffly.

“Yes, and so are you. For Heaven’s sake, don’t let’s go in for romantic self-sacrifice, like Don Carlos and Marquis Posa. This is the nineteenth century; and if it’s my business to die, I have got to do it.”

“And if it’s my business to live, I have got to do that, I suppose. You’re the lucky one, Rivarez.”

“Yes,” the Gadfly assented laconically; “I was always lucky.”

They smoked in silence for a few minutes, and then began to talk of business details. When Gemma came up to call them to dinner, neither of them betrayed in face or manner that their conversation had been in any way unusual. After dinner they sat discussing plans and making necessary arrangements till eleven o’clock, when Martini rose and took his hat.

“I will go home and fetch that riding-cloak of mine, Rivarez. I think you will be less recognizable in it than in your light suit. I want to reconnoitre a bit, too, and make sure there are no spies about before we start.”

“Are you coming with me to the barrier?”

“Yes; it’s safer to have four eyes than two in case of anyone following you. I’ll be back by twelve. Be sure you don’t start without me. I had better take the key, Gemma, so as not to wake anyone by ringing.”

She raised her eyes to his face as he took the keys. She understood that he had invented a pretext in order to leave her alone with the Gadfly.

“You and I will talk tomorrow,” she said. “We shall have time in the morning, when my packing is finished.”

“Oh, yes! Plenty of time. There are two or three little things I want to ask you about, Rivarez; but we can talk them over on our way to the barrier. You had better send Katie to bed, Gemma; and be as quiet as you can, both of you. Goodbye till twelve, then.”

He went away with a little nod and smile, banging the door after him to let the neighbours hear that Signora Bolla’s visitor was gone.

Gemma went out into the kitchen to say good night to Katie, and came back with black coffee on a tray.

“Would you like to lie down a bit?” she said. “You won’t have any sleep the rest of the night.”

“Oh, dear no! I shall sleep at San Lorenzo while the men are getting my disguise ready.”

“Then have some coffee. Wait a minute; I will get you out the biscuits.”

As she knelt down at the sideboard he suddenly stooped over her shoulder.

“Whatever have you got there? Chocolate creams and English toffee! Why, this is l-luxury for a king!”

She looked up, smiling faintly at his enthusiastic tone.

“Are you fond of sweets? I always keep them for Cesare; he is a perfect baby over any kind of lollipops.”

“R-r-really? Well, you must get him s-some more tomorrow and give me these to take with me. No, let me p-p-put the toffee in my pocket; it will console me for all the lost joys of life. I d-do hope they’ll give me a bit of toffee to suck the day I’m hanged.”

“Oh, do let me find a cardboard box for it, at least, before you put it in your pocket! You will be so sticky! Shall I put the chocolates in, too?”

“No, I want to eat them now, with you.”

“But I don’t like chocolate, and I want you to come and sit down like a reasonable human being. We very likely shan’t have another chance to talk quietly before one or other of us is killed, and⁠—”

“She d-d-doesn’t like chocolate!” he murmured under his breath. “Then I must be greedy all by myself. This is a case of the hangman’s supper, isn’t it? You are going to humour all my whims tonight. First of all, I want you to sit on this easy-chair, and, as you said I might lie down, I shall lie here and be comfortable.”

He threw himself down on the rug at her feet, leaning his elbow on the chair and looking up into her face.

“How pale you are!” he said. “That’s because you take life sadly, and don’t like chocolate⁠—”

“Do be serious for just five minutes! After all, it is a matter of life and death.”

“Not even for two minutes, dear; neither life nor death is worth it.”

He had taken hold of both her hands and was stroking them with the tips of his fingers.

“Don’t look so grave, Minerva! You’ll make me cry in a minute, and then you’ll be sorry. I do wish you’d smile again; you have such a d-delightfully unexpected smile. There now, don’t scold me, dear! Let us eat our biscuits together, like two good children, without quarrelling over them⁠—for tomorrow we die.”

He took a sweet biscuit from the plate and carefully halved it, breaking the sugar ornament down the middle with scrupulous exactness.

“This is a kind of sacrament, like what the goody-goody people have in church. ‘Take, eat; this is my body.’ And we must d-drink the wine out of the s-s-same glass, you know⁠—yes, that is right. ‘Do this in remembrance⁠—’ ”

She put down the glass.

“Don’t!” she said, with almost a sob. He looked up, and took her hands again.

“Hush, then!