The third or fourth time that she found herself in the middle of the lake with all of these well-chosen men, she stopped the movement of their oars.
"I regard you all as friends," she said to them, "and I wish to confide a secret in you.
My nephew Fabrizio has escaped from prison; and possibly by treachery they will seek to recapture him, although he is on your lake, in a place of freedom.
Keep your ears open, and inform me of all that you may hear.
I authorise you to enter my room by day or night."
The rowers replied with enthusiasm; she knew how to make herself loved.
But she did not think that there was any question of recapturing Fabrizio: it was for herself that all these precautions were taken, and, before the fatal order to open the reservoir of the palazzo Sanseverina, she would not have dreamed of them.
Her prudence had led her also to take an apartment at the port of Locarno for Fabrizio; every day he came to see her, or she herself crossed into Switzerland.
One may judge of the pleasantness of their perpetual companionship by the following detail. The Marchesa and her daughter came twice to see them, and the presence of these strangers gave them pleasure; for, in spite of the ties of blood, we may call "stranger" a person who knows nothing of our dearest interests and whom we see but once in a year.
The Duchessa happened to be one evening at Locarno, in Fabrizio's rooms, with the Marchesa and her two daughters.
The Archpriest of the place and the curate had come to pay their respects to these ladies: the Archpriest, who had an interest in a business house, and kept closely in touch with the news, was inspired to announce :
"The Prince of Parma is dead!"
The Duchessa turned extremely pale; she had barely the strength to say:
"Do they give any details?"
"No," replied the Archpriest; "the report is confined to the announcement of his death, which is certain."
The Duchessa looked at Fabrizio.
"I have done this for him," she said to herself; "I would have done things a thousand times worse, and there he is standing before me indifferent, and dreaming of another!"
It was beyond the Duchessa's strength to endure this frightful thought; she fell in a dead faint.
Everyone hastened to her assistance; but, on coming to herself, she observed that Fabrizio was less active than the Archpriest and curate; he was dreaming as usual.
"He is thinking of returning to Parma," the Duchessa told herself, "and perhaps of breaking off Clelia's marriage to the Marchese; but I shall manage to prevent him."
Then, remembering the presence of the two priests, she made haste to add:
"He was a good Prince, and has been greatly maligned!
It is an immense loss for us!" The priests took their leave, and the Duchessa, to be alone, announced that she was going to bed.
"No doubt," she said to herself, "prudence ordains that I should wait a month or two before returning to Parma; but I feel that I shall never have the patience; I am suffering too keenly here.
Fabrizio's continual dreaming, his silence, are an intolerable spectacle for my heart.
Who would ever have said that I should find it tedious to float on this charming lake, alone with him, and at the moment when I have done, to avenge him, more than I can tell him!
After such a spectacle, death is nothing.
It is now that I am paying for the transports of happiness and childish joy which I found in my palazzo at Parma when I welcomed Fabrizio there on his return from Naples.
If I had said a word, all was at an end, and it may be that, tied to me, he would not have given a thought to that little Clelia; but that word filled me with a horrible repugnance.
Now she has prevailed over me.
What more simple?
She is twenty; and I, altered by my anxieties, sick, I am twice her age! … I must die, I must make an end of things!
A woman of forty is no longer anything save to the men who have loved her in her youth!
Now I shall find nothing more but the pleasures of vanity; and are they worth the trouble of living?
All the more reason for going to Parma, and amusing myself.
If things took a certain turn, I should lose my life.
Well, where is the harm?
I shall make a magnificent death, and, before the end, but then only, I shall say to Fabrizio: 'Wretch!
It is for you!' Yes, I can find no occupation for what little life remains to me save at Parma.
I shall play the great lady there.
What a blessing if I could be sensible now of all those distinctions which used to make the Raversi so unhappy!
Then, in order to see my happiness, I had to look into the eyes of envy… . My vanity has one satisfaction; with the exception of the Conte perhaps, no one can have guessed what the event was that put an end to the life of my heart… .
I shall love Fabrizio, I shall be devoted to his interests; but he must not be allowed to break off Clelia's marriage, and end by taking her himself… . No, that shall not be!"
The Duchessa had reached this point in her melancholy monologue, when she heard a great noise in the house.
"Good!" she said to herself, "they are coming to arrest me; Ferrante has let himself be caught, he must have spoken.
Well, all the better!
I am going to have an occupation, I am going to fight them for my head.
But in the first place, I must not let myself be taken."
The Duchessa, half clad, fled to the bottom of her garden: she was already thinking of climbing a low wall and escaping across country; but she saw someone enter her room.
She recognised Bruno, the Conte's confidential man; he was alone with her maid.