"You are just the person who could do it best. I think of buying the arms in England, and there is a good deal of difficulty about bringing them over. It's impossible to get them through any of the Pontifical sea-ports; they must come by Tuscany, and go across the Apennines."

"That makes two frontiers to cross instead of one."

"Yes; but the other way is hopeless; you can't smuggle a big transport in at a harbour where there is no trade, and you know the whole shipping of Civita Vecchia amounts to about three row-boats and a fishing smack. If we once get the things across Tuscany, I can manage the Papal frontier; my men know every path in the mountains, and we have plenty of hiding-places. The transport must come by sea to Leghorn, and that is my great difficulty; I am not in with the smugglers there, and I believe you are."

"Give me five minutes to think."

She leaned forward, resting one elbow on her knee, and supporting the chin on the raised hand. After a few moments' silence she looked up.

"It is possible that I might be of some use in that part of the work,"

she said; "but before we go any further, I want to ask you a question.

Can you give me your word that this business is not connected with any stabbing or secret violence of any kind?"

"Certainly. It goes without saying that I should not have asked you to join in a thing of which I know you disapprove."

"When do you want a definite answer from me?"

"There is not much time to lose; but I can give you a few days to decide in."

"Are you free next Sat.u.r.day evening?"

"Let me see--to-day is Thursday; yes."

"Then come here. I will think the matter over and give you a final answer."

On the following Sunday Gemma sent in to the committee of the Florentine branch of the Mazzinian party a statement that she wished to undertake a special work of a political nature, which would for a few months prevent her from performing the functions for which she had up till now been responsible to the party.

Some surprise was felt at this announcement, but the committee raised no objection; she had been known in the party for several years as a person whose judgment might be trusted; and the members agreed that if Signora Bolla took an unexpected step, she probably had good reasons for it.

To Martini she said frankly that she had undertaken to help the Gadfly with some "frontier work." She had stipulated for the right to tell her old friend this much, in order that there might be no misunderstanding or painful sense of doubt and mystery between them. It seemed to her that she owed him this proof of confidence. He made no comment when she told him; but she saw, without knowing why, that the news had wounded him deeply.

They were sitting on the terrace of her lodging, looking out over the red roofs to Fiesole. After a long silence, Martini rose and began tramping up and down with his hands in his pockets, whistling to himself--a sure sign with him of mental agitation. She sat looking at him for a little while.

"Cesare, you are worried about this affair," she said at last. "I am very sorry you feel so despondent over it; but I could decide only as seemed right to me."

"It is not the affair," he answered, sullenly; "I know nothing about it, and it probably is all right, once you have consented to go into it.

It's the MAN I distrust."

"I think you misunderstand him; I did till I got to know him better. He is far from perfect, but there is much more good in him than you think."

"Very likely." For a moment he tramped to and fro in silence, then suddenly stopped beside her.

"Gemma, give it up! Give it up before it is too late! Don't let that man drag you into things you will repent afterwards."

"Cesare," she said gently, "you are not thinking what you are saying.

No one is dragging me into anything. I have made this decision of my own will, after thinking the matter well over alone. You have a personal dislike to Rivarez, I know; but we are talking of politics now, not of persons."

"Madonna! Give it up! That man is dangerous; he is secret, and cruel, and unscrupulous--and he is in love with you!"

She drew back.

"Cesare, how can you get such fancies into your head?"

"He is in love with you," Martini repeated. "Keep clear of him, Madonna!"

"Dear Cesare, I can't keep clear of him; and I can't explain to you why.

We are tied together--not by any wish or doing of our own."

"If you are tied, there is nothing more to say," Martini answered wearily.

He went away, saying that he was busy, and tramped for hours up and down the muddy streets. The world looked very black to him that evening. One poor ewe-lamb--and this slippery creature had stepped in and stolen it away.

CHAPTER X.

TOWARDS the middle of February the Gadfly went to Leghorn. Gemma had introduced him to a young Englishman there, a shipping-agent of liberal views, whom she and her husband had known in England. He had on several occasions performed little services for the Florentine radicals: had lent money to meet an unforeseen emergency, had allowed his business address to be used for the party's letters, etc.; but always through Gemma's mediumship, and as a private friend of hers. She was, therefore, according to party etiquette, free to make use of the connexion in any way that might seem good to her. Whether any use could be got out of it was quite another question. To ask a friendly sympathizer to lend his address for letters from Sicily or to keep a few doc.u.ments in a corner of his counting-house safe was one thing; to ask him to smuggle over a transport of firearms for an insurrection was another; and she had very little hope of his consenting.

"You can but try," she had said to the Gadfly; "but I don't think anything will come of it. If you were to go to him with that recommendation and ask for five hundred scudi, I dare say he'd give them to you at once--he's exceedingly generous,--and perhaps at a pinch he would lend you his pa.s.sport or hide a fugitive in his cellar; but if you mention such a thing as rifles he will stare at you and think we're both demented."

"Perhaps he may give me a few hints, though, or introduce me to a friendly sailor or two," the Gadfly had answered. "Anyway, it's worth while to try."

One day at the end of the month he came into her study less carefully dressed than usual, and she saw at once from his face that he had good news to tell.

"Ah, at last! I was beginning to think something must have happened to you!"

"I thought it safer not to write, and I couldn't get back sooner."

"You have just arrived?"

"Yes; I am straight from the diligence; I looked in to tell you that the affair is all settled."

"Do you mean that Bailey has really consented to help?"

"More than to help; he has undertaken the whole thing,--packing, transports,--everything. The rifles will be hidden in bales of merchandise and will come straight through from England. His partner, Williams, who is a great friend of his, has consented to see the transport off from Southampton, and Bailey will slip it through the custom house at Leghorn. That is why I have been such a long time; Williams was just starting for Southampton, and I went with him as far as Genoa."

"To talk over details on the way?"

"Yes, as long as I wasn't too sea-sick to talk about anything."

"Are you a bad sailor?" she asked quickly, remembering how Arthur had suffered from sea-sickness one day when her father had taken them both for a pleasure-trip.

"About as bad as is possible, in spite of having been at sea so much.

But we had a talk while they were loading at Genoa. You know Williams, I think? He's a thoroughly good fellow, trustworthy and sensible; so is Bailey, for that matter; and they both know how to hold their tongues."

"It seems to me, though, that Bailey is running a serious risk in doing a thing like this."