And he knew suddenly what underlay this wild, fathomless darkness of soul that threatened to engulf him.
“If this boy does not survive, if he does not somehow overcome the violence done to him, then I am destroyed with him.”
It was not very long after that he rose from the bed of grass and walked back to the inn. But he could not go up to the room as yet, and seating himself on a stone step, his head on his arms, he wept silently.
Years had passed since he had shed tears, or so it seemed. Surely years since he had let them flow so copiously.
And what stopped him finally was that he could hear his own crying.
He lifted his face in wonder.
The sky was lighter, the first strands of blue threading its endless field of cloud, and bowing his head, he wiped his tears on his sleeve before rising.
But when he turned and looked up the stone steps that clung so narrowly to the wall, he saw at the top the slender and somewhat fragile figure of Tonio.
The boy was looking down at him. And his soft black eyes never left Guido as Guido came up to him.
“You are that maestro whom I met, are you not?” Tonio asked softly. “The maestro for whom I sang in San Marco?”
Guido nodded. He was studying the white face, the moist lips, the eyes which still had the gloss of illness.
He could hardly endure the sight of this battered and broken innocence. He offered up a silent prayer that this boy would turn away from him.
“And was it for me,” Tonio asked, “that you were weeping?”
For a moment Guido didn’t speak. He felt his habitual flashing anger; it colored his face and twisted the edges of his mouth, and then suddenly it came to him as clearly as if it had been spoken into his ear that yes, it was the truth, it was for this boy he had been weeping.
But he swallowed and said nothing. He was staring at Tonio in sullen wonder.
And the boy’s face which a moment before had been blank and almost angelic assumed a bitter expression that was as brittle as it was frightening. Malice slowly sharpened it, giving a menacing glint to the eyes that caused Guido to look away slowly.
“Well, we must get out of this place,” the boy whispered, “we must get on with our journey. I have business which must be attended to.”
Guido watched him turn and go into the room. All of the documents were laid out on the table. And the boy gathered them up now and returned them to the Maestro.
“Who were the men who did this?” Guido demanded suddenly.
Tonio was putting on his cloak. He looked up as if already in deep thought.
“Fools,” he answered, “at the command of a coward.”
2
TONIO SPOKE SCARCELY a single syllable until they reached that great bustling capital of the north, Bologna.
If he felt discomfort, he concealed it, and when Guido urged him to see a physician, as there was always danger of infection, he turned his head resolutely away.
It seemed his face was permanently transformed. It was elongated, the line of the mouth hardened. And the eyes retained that feverish glitter though they were wide and seemingly blind to the unfolding spring of the Italian countryside.
They seemed not to see the fountains, palaces, and teeming streets of this great city either.
But after insisting upon the extravagant purchase of a jewel-encrusted sword, a stiletto, and two pearl-handled pistols, Tonio also bought himself a new suit of clothes and a cloak to go with it. Then he asked Guido politely (he had been polite in everything so far, though never actually obedient or compliant) to find for him a lawyer who had to do with the affairs of musicians.
This was no problem in Bologna. Her cafés swarmed with singers and musicians from all over Europe come here expressly to meet with the agents and impresarios who might find them positions in the coming season. And after a few inquiries they were soon in the offices of a competent lawyer.
Tonio commenced to dictate a letter to the Supreme Tribunal in Venice.
He had accomplished his sacrifice for the sake of his voice, he said, and it was imperative that no one at Venice be blamed for his course of action.
Exonerating his former teachers and all those who had encouraged, him in the love of music, he went on then to exonerate