Adventure Magazine Cover — page 162: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

156 there was a law among free-lance bands— unwritten, but observed all the more for that, though it hath now fallen into disuse— that any was bound to aid any other op- pressed by established authority; it was only thus, in most cases, that we could get our pay. This law Scarlatti had not dared to break, much as he desired revenge for that long-past insult; he had not broken it; merely he had set a condition which he could justify to any inquirer, and which yet left me as unprotected before my enemies (he thought) as if he had refused me aid. ‘‘Where was he?” I asked. “He was in camp at Costecaldo, Cap- tain.” “In strength? Prosperous-seeming?”’ “Very prosperous, your Honor.” I bit my lip harder. “Dismissed,” says I, through my teeth and the flesh entrapped therein. ‘Send the lieutenant to me.” Contrary to all custom and discipline, the man hesitated, not speaking, but staring at me like a deserted dog. “Well?” I demanded of him angrily. “Under favor, your Honor is not think- ing of—”’ I remember I rose, and gripped a great pewter inkwell that stood on my table. “Begone, rogue!’ I shouted, loosing my fury at circumstances, human-wise, on the nearest human head. “But, Captain, we would rather die to the last man, than that—”’ I knew he spoke the truth, so without further delay, I flung the inkwell at him; taking care, however, that it should miss and spread its contents on the wall. It was either that, or a bursting into tears; and if I was to leave the castle at this juncture, as it appeared evident I must, discipline would need all the buttressing it could obtain. Lord, in what state of mind was I, as the poor faithful soldier, fleeing the room ere worse befell, went clattering down the passageway; for to my proper self—I mean the self I had known theretofore—submis- sion to any man living, much more to an avowed rival such as Scarlatti, was as for- eign as it had seemed to this one of my fol- lowing; I will not say this proper self would sooner have been hanged than so bow the knee, because I have seen men’s minds change beyond belief when the gallows was in plain sight; but I should have been much of that preference. F. R. Buckley My old self, however, was not germane to the case; now I was a new man, com- pound with the Countess Anita; and my course of action was of necessity different. Formerly, I had lived for myself and for the day then present; now I was living for her as well; and of all the states of time, it was the future which did most engage my re- gard. Ah me—the future! Of all the snares and pitfalls of this world, I count it the most dangerous, and the most cleverly concealed; I have seen it slay more folk than dagger and poison together; killing moreover the soul along with the body; it is the devil’s bait to mankind. ‘Sin now; now do injustice; abandon at this moment your own opinions of right and wrong, and do what is expedient; and the future shall reward you, and repair what damage you have done.” And lo! when the future comes, ’tis nothing new, but another today, with no greater powers of repair or reward than the former. But as I waited for Benedetto to come, this imaginary time did shine before me brightly, as Anita had illumined it; and so clearly did I see myself risen to power, to honor, to fame and to unspeakable glory and happiness, once this period of humilia- tion should be past, that only with the eye of my soul (which I blinded as much as pos- sible) did I perceive that, however I rose, whatever the future, the present would re- main with me, embalmed in the unchange- able past. Perhaps it will seem that I make much outcry over a small matter; perhaps in deed it was a small matter in the scheme of the universe, whether I should go prostrate myself before Scarlatti, or remain to live or die with my pride unabased. But to me, it was a great matter indeed; I say so, and I do insist thereupon, that it may be known how great was my adoration of Anita and my faith in her, which vanquished pride and its concomitants on the instant, and de- termined me, before the messenger had finished speaking, to seek Matteo Scarlatti that very night, cost what the seeking might. Benedetto entered, and I saw from his face at once, that the soldier had spewed forth his fears and protestations on him also; therefore I saved myself the trouble—nay, the pain—of expounding the intention in so many words. Benedetto and I gazed each other in the eyes for some seconds; COMiCOooks C©@