img The Gadfly  /  Chapter 1 No.1 | 4.17%
Download App
Reading History
The Gadfly

The Gadfly

Author: E. L. Voynich
img img img

Chapter 1 No.1

Word Count: 2791    |    Released on: 29/11/2017

s a hot evening in June, and the windows stood wide open, with the shutters half closed for coolness. The Father D

ewrite the passage. Possibly it has got torn up,

ne that gave to his speech a peculiar charm. It was the voice of a born orator, rich

ure you put it here. You will nev

drowsily outside the window, and the long, melancholy call

ian in a sixteenth-century portrait than a middle-class English lad of the thirties. From the long eyebrows and sensitive mouth to the small hands and feet, everything about him was too much ch

ing my things. No, I am not going to write any more now. Come out into the garde

were laid away and forgotten; but the scented herbs flowered still in the gracious mid-summer evening, though no man gathered their blossoms for simples any more. Tufts of wild parsley and columbine filled the cracks between the flagged footways, and the well in the middle of the courtyard was given up to ferns and matted stone-cr

een placed against the trunk; and on this Montanelli sat down. Arthur was studying philosophy at the university; and, coming to a difficulty with a book, h

n the passage had been cleared up;

re, but I should like you to

faint stars glimmering in a quiet sky. The dreamy, mystical eyes, deep blue under black lashes, were

ing tired, ca

weary sound in Arthur's voice,

out with sick-nursing and being up at night. I ought to have i

dn't stop in that miserable house after mo

tep-brother's wife, an

ould have been the worst possible thing for you. But I wish you could have accepted the invitation of y

ry for me,-I can see it in all their faces,-and they would try to console me, and talk about mother. Gemma wouldn't,

it then

rom a drooping foxglove stem and

nd the walk along the shore where I used to take her until she got too ill. Wherever I go it's the same thing; every market-girl comes up

he branches of the magnolia, and everything seemed dim and indistinct; but there was light enough to show the ghastly paleness of Montanelli's face. He was bending his head down

elfish I am beside him! If my trouble

aid in his most caressing tone; "but you must promise me to take a thorough rest when your vacation begins this summer. I

go when the semin

be back from his holiday. I shall try to get up into the Alps for a little change. Will you come with me? I could take you for some long

"demonstrative foreign way." "I would give anything on ea

nk Mr. Burton

hteen now and can do what I choose. After all, he's only my step-brother

ad better not defy his wishes; you may find

e me and always will-it doesn't matter what I do. Besides, how can Jam

e will wait to hear what he thinks. But you must not be impatient, my son;

ardly coloured under it. "Yes, I know," he a

ntanelli said, abruptly introducing a new subject. "The Bisho

o go to a meeting at his lodgings, an

ort of

ular meeting," he said with a nervous little stammer. "A student ha

he lectu

ask me his name, Padre, wil

ve promised secrecy of course you must not tell me

and our duty to the people-and to-our own s

elp w

ntadini

nd

ta

s a long

ng to him and speaking very gravely, "how

-last

er's death? And d

idn't care a

you-care

her handful of bel

quite alone among them all in that dungeon of a house; and Julia's tongue was enough to kill her. Then, in the winter, when she got so ill, I forgot all about the students and their books; and then, you know, I left off coming to Pisa altogether. I should have talked to mother if I had thought of it; but it went right out of my head. Then I found out that she

Montanelli's voice

to tell me what I must do, or to let me die

d to me. Arthur, I hoped

one. I-it seemed to me that no one could help me-not even you or mother; I must hav

magnolia branches. The twilight was so dim that his figure h

?" he ask

now, I had been up the la

sed a moment, but Mo

lower voice, "I couldn't think about anything. Then, after the

I reme

ght perhaps God would help me. I knelt down and waited-all night. And in the morning when I came to my senses-Padre, it isn't any use;

the darkness. Then Montanelli turned a

ned, and do not take the fancies of grief or illness for His solemn call. And if, indeed, it has been His will to answer you out o

wered slowly, as though

this slavery and wretchedness, and in driving out the Austri

what you are saying! You

am myself. I have seen this

s silenc

would have said--" Montanelli began

loseth his life for m

against a branch, and shad

ent, my son," h

adre took both his hands i

must have time to think it over. Later on we will talk more definitely. But, for just now, I want

dre

e understood. Arthur, you are as my-as my-own son to me. Do you see? You are the light of my eyes and the desire of my heart. I would die to keep you from making a false step and ruining your life. But there is noth

-Padre, pray for

ment later Arthur rose, kissed the hand, and went softly away across the dewy grass. Mon

and taken the Body of the Lord into polluted hands,-He has been very patient with me, and now it is come. 'For thou didst it

Download App
icon APP STORE
icon GOOGLE PLAY