THE Gadfly certainly knew how to make personal enemies. He had arrived in Florence in August, and by the end of October three-fourths of the committee which had invited him shared Martini's opinion. His savage attacks upon Montanelli had annoyed even his admirers; and Galli himself, who at first had been inclined to uphold everything the witty satirist said or did, began to acknowledge with an aggrieved air that Montanelli had better have been left in peace. "Decent cardinals are none so plenty. One might treat them politely when they do turn up."
The only person who, apparently, remained quite indifferent to the storm of caricatures and pasquinades was Montanelli himself. It seemed, as Martini said, hardly worth while to expend one's energy in ridiculing a man who took it so good-humouredly. It was said in the town that Montanelli, one day when the Archbishop of Florence was dining with him, had found in the room one of the Gadfly's bitter personal lampoons against himself, had read it through and handed the paper to the Archbishop, remarking: "That is rather cleverly put, is it not?"
One day there appeared in the town a leaflet, headed: "The Mystery of the Annunciation." Even had the author omitted his now familiar signature, a sketch of a gadfly with spread wings, the bitter, trenchant style would have left in the minds of most readers no doubt as to his identity. The skit was in the form of a dialogue between Tuscany as the Virgin Mary, and Montanelli as the angel who, bearing the lilies of purity and crowned with the olive branch of peace, was announcing the advent of the Jesuits. The whole thing was full of offensive personal allusions and hints of the most risky nature, and all Florence felt the satire to be both ungenerous and unfair. And yet all Florence laughed. There was something so irresistible in the Gadfly's grave absurdities that those who most disapproved of and disliked him laughed as immoderately at all his squibs as did his warmest partisans. Repulsive in tone as the leaflet was, it left its trace upon the popular feeling of the town. Montanelli's personal reputation stood too high for any lampoon, however witty, seriously to injure it, but for a moment the tide almost turned against him. The Gadfly had known where to sting; and, though eager crowds still collected before the Cardinal's house to see him enter or leave his carriage, ominous cries of "Jesuit!" and "Sanfedist spy!" often mingled with the cheers and benedictions.
But Montanelli had no lack of supporters. Two days after the publication of the skit, the Churchman, a leading clerical paper, brought out a brilliant article, called: "An Answer to 'The Mystery of the Annunciation,'" and signed: "A Son of the Church." It was an impassioned defence of Montanelli against the Gadfly's slanderous imputations. The anonymous writer, after expounding, with great eloquence and fervour, the doctrine of peace on earth and good will towards men, of which the new Pontiff was the evangelist, concluded by challenging the Gadfly to prove a single one of his assertions, and solemnly appealing to the public not to believe a contemptible slanderer. Both the cogency of the article as a bit of special pleading and its merit as a literary composition were sufficiently far above the average to attract much attention in the town, especially as not even the editor of the newspaper could guess the author's identity. The article was soon reprinted separately in pamphlet form; and the "anonymous defender" was discussed in every coffee-shop in Florence.
The Gadfly responded with a violent attack on the new Pontificate and all its supporters, especially on Montanelli, who, he cautiously hinted, had probably consented to the panegyric on himself. To this the anonymous defender again replied in the Churchman with an indignant denial. During the rest of Montanelli's stay the controversy raging between the two writers occupied more of the public attention than did even the famous preacher himself.
Some members of the liberal party ventured to remonstrate with the Gadfly about the unnecessary malice of his tone towards Montanelli; but they did not get much satisfaction out of him. He only smiled affably and answered with a languid little stammer: "R-really, gentlemen, you are rather unfair. I expressly stipulated, when I gave in to Signora Bolla, that I should be allowed a l-l-little chuckle all to myself now. It is so nominated in the bond!"
At the end of October Montanelli returned to his see in the Romagna, and, before leaving Florence, preached a farewell sermon in which he spoke of the controversy, gently deprecating the vehemence of both writers and begging his unknown defender to set an example of tolerance by closing a useless and unseemly war of words. On the following day the Churchman contained a notice that, at Monsignor Montanelli's publicly expressed desire, "A Son of the Church" would withdraw from the controversy.
The last word remained with the Gadfly. He issued a little leaflet, in which he declared himself disarmed and converted by Montanelli's Christian meekness and ready to weep tears of reconciliation upon the neck of the first Sanfedist he met. "I am even willing," he concluded; "to embrace my anonymous challenger himself; and if my readers knew, as his Eminence and I know, what that implies and why he remains anonymous, they would believe in the sincerity of my conversion."
In the latter part of November he announced to the literary committee that he was going for a fortnight's holiday to the seaside. He went, apparently, to Leghorn; but Dr. Riccardo, going there soon after and wishing to speak to him, searched the town for him in vain. On the 5th of December a political demonstration of the most extreme character burst out in the States of the Church, along the whole chain of the Apennines; and people began to guess the reason of the Gadfly's sudden fancy to take his holidays in the depth of winter. He came back to Florence when the riots had been quelled, and, meeting Riccardo in the street, remarked affably:
"I hear you were inquiring for me in Leghorn; I was staying in Pisa. What a pretty old town it is! There's something quite Arcadian about it."
In Christmas week he attended an afternoon meeting of the literary committee which was held in Dr. Riccardo's lodgings near the Porta alla Croce. The meeting was a full one, and when he came in, a little late, with an apologetic bow and smile, there seemed to be no seat empty. Riccardo rose to fetch a chair from the next room, but the Gadfly stopped him. "Don't trouble about it," he said; "I shall be quite comfortable here"; and crossing the room to a window beside which Gemma had placed her chair, he sat down on the sill, leaning his head indolently back against the shutter.
As he looked down at Gemma, smiling with half-shut eyes, in the subtle, sphinx-like way that gave him the look of a Leonardo da Vinci portrait, the instinctive distrust with which he inspired her deepened into a sense of unreasoning fear.
The proposal under discussion was that a pamphlet be issued setting forth the committee's views on the dearth with which Tuscany was threatened and the measures which should be taken to meet it. The matter was a somewhat difficult one to decide, because, as usual, the committee's views upon the subject were much divided. The more advanced section, to which Gemma, Martini, and Riccardo belonged, was in favour of an energetic appeal to both government and public to take adequate measures at once for the relief of the peasantry. The moderate division--including, of course, Grassini--feared that an over-emphatic tone might irritate rather than convince the ministry.
"It is all very well, gentlemen, to want the people helped at once," he said, looking round upon the red-hot radicals with his calm and pitying air. "We most of us want a good many things that we are not likely to get; but if we start with the tone you propose to adopt, the government is very likely not to begin any relief measures at all till there is actual famine. If we could only induce the ministry to make an inquiry into the state of the crops it would be a step in advance."
Galli, in his corner by the stove, jumped up to answer his enemy.
"A step in advance--yes, my dear sir; but if there's going to be a famine, it won't wait for us to advance at that pace. The people might all starve before we got to any actual relief."
"It would be interesting to know----" Sacconi began; but several voices interrupted him.
"Speak up; we can't hear!"
"I should think not, with such an infernal row in the street," said Galli, irritably. "Is that window shut, Riccardo? One can't hear one's self speak!"
Gemma looked round. "Yes," she said, "the window is quite shut. I think there is a variety show, or some such thing, passing."
The sounds of shouting and laughter, of the tinkling of bells and trampling of feet, resounded from the street below, mixed with the braying of a villainous brass band and the unmerciful banging of a drum.
"It can't be helped these few days," said Riccardo; "we must expect noise at Christmas time. What were you saying, Sacconi?"
"I said it would be interesting to hear what is thought about the matter in Pisa and Leghorn. Perhaps Signor Rivarez can tell us something; he has just come from there."
The Gadfly did not answer. He was staring out of the window and appeared not to have heard what had been said.
"Signor Rivarez!" said Gemma. She was the only person sitting near to him, and as he remained silent she bent forward and touched him on the arm. He slowly turned his face to her, and she started as she saw its fixed and awful immobility. For a moment it was like the face of a corpse; then the lips moved in a strange, lifeless way.
"Yes," he whispered; "a variety show."
Her first instinct was to shield him from the curiosity of the others. Without understanding what was the matter with him, she realized that some frightful fancy or hallucination had seized upon him, and that, for the moment, he was at its mercy, body and soul. She rose quickly and, standing between him and the company, threw the window open as if to look out. No one but herself had seen his face.
In the street a travelling circus was passing, with mountebanks on donkeys and harlequins in parti-coloured dresses. The crowd of holiday masqueraders, laughing and shoving, was exchanging jests and showers of paper ribbon with the clowns and flinging little bags of sugar-plums to the columbine, who sat in her car, tricked out in tinsel and feathers, with artificial curls on her forehead and an artificial smile on her painted lips. Behind the car came a motley string of figures-- street Arabs, beggars, clowns turning somersaults, and costermongers hawking their wares. They were jostling, pelting, and applauding a figure which at first Gemma could not see for the pushing and swaying of the crowd. The next moment, however, she saw plainly what it was--a hunchback, dwarfish and ugly, grotesquely attired in a fool's dress, with paper cap and bells. He evidently belonged to the strolling company, and was amusing the crowd with hideous grimaces and contortions.
"What is going on out there?" asked Riccardo, approaching the window. "You seem very much interested."
He was a little surprised at their keeping the whole committee waiting to look at a strolling company of mountebanks. Gemma turned round.
"It is nothing interesting," she said; "only a variety show; but they made such a noise that I thought it must be something else."
She was standing with one hand upon the window-sill, and suddenly felt the Gadfly's cold fingers press the hand with a passionate clasp. "Thank you!" he whispered softly; and then, closing the window, sat down again upon the sill.
"I'm afraid," he said in his airy manner, "that I have interrupted you, gentlemen. I was l-looking at the variety show; it is s-such a p-pretty sight."
"Sacconi was asking you a question," said Martini gruffly. The Gadfly's behaviour seemed to him an absurd piece of affectation, and he was annoyed that Gemma should have been tactless enough to follow his example. It was not like her.
The Gadfly disclaimed all knowledge of the state of feeling in Pisa, explaining that he had been there "only on a holiday." He then plunged at once into an animated discussion, first of agricultural prospects, then of the pamphlet question; and continued pouring out a flood of stammering talk till the others were quite tired. He seemed to find some feverish delight in the sound of his own voice.
When the meeting ended and the members of the committee rose to go, Riccardo came up to Martini.
"Will you stop to dinner with me? Fabrizi and Sacconi have promised to stay."
"Thanks; but I was going to see Signora Bolla home."
"Are you really afraid I can't get home by myself?" she asked, rising and putting on her wrap. "Of course he will stay with you, Dr. Riccardo; it's good for him to get a change. He doesn't go out half enough."
"If you will allow me, I will see you home," the Gadfly interposed; "I am going in that direction."
"If you really are going that way----"
"I suppose you won't have time to drop in here in the course of the evening, will you, Rivarez?" asked Riccardo, as he opened the door for them.
The Gadfly looked back over his shoulder, laughing. "I, my dear fellow? I'm going to see the variety show!"
"What a strange creature that is; and what an odd affection for mountebanks!" said Riccardo, coming back to his visitors.
"Case of a fellow-feeling, I should think," said Martini; "the man's a mountebank himself, if ever I saw one."
"I wish I could think he was only that," Fabrizi interposed, with a grave face. "If he is a mountebank I am afraid he's a very dangerous one."
"Dangerous in what way?"
"Well, I don't like those mysterious little pleasure trips that he is so fond of taking. This is the third time, you know; and I don't believe he has been in Pisa at all."
"I suppose it is almost an open secret that it's into the mountains he goes," said Sacconi. "He has hardly taken the trouble to deny that he is still in relations with the smugglers he got to know in the Savigno affair, and it's quite natural he should take advantage of their friendship to get his leaflets across the Papal frontier."
"For my part," said Riccardo; "what I wanted to talk to you about is this very question. It occurred to me that we could hardly do better than ask Rivarez to undertake the management of our own smuggling. That press at Pistoja is very inefficiently managed, to my thinking; and the way the leaflets are taken across, always rolled in those everlasting cigars, is more than primitive."
"It has answered pretty well up till now," said Martini contumaciously. He was getting wearied of hearing Galli and Riccardo always put the Gadfly forward as a model to copy, and inclined to think that the world had gone well enough before this "lackadaisical buccaneer" turned up to set everyone to rights.
"It has answered so far well that we have been satisfied with it for want of anything better; but you know there have been plenty of arrests and confiscations. Now I believe that if Rivarez undertook the business for us, there would be less of that."
"Why do you think so?"
"In the first place, the smugglers look upon us as strangers to do business with, or as sheep to fleece, whereas Rivarez is their personal friend, very likely their leader, whom they look up to and trust. You may be sure every smuggler in the Apennines will do for a man who was in the Savigno revolt what he will not do for us. In the next place, there's hardly a man among us that knows the mountains as Rivarez does. Remember, he has been a fugitive among them, and knows the smugglers' paths by heart. No smuggler would dare to cheat him, even if he wished to, and no smuggler could cheat him if he dared to try."
"Then is your proposal that we should ask him to take over the whole management of our literature on the other side of the frontier--distribution, addresses, hiding-places, everything--or simply that we should ask him to put the things across for us?"
"Well, as for addresses and hiding-places, he probably knows already all the ones that we have and a good many more that we have not. I don't suppose we should be able to teach him much in that line. As for distribution, it's as the others prefer, of course. The important question, to my mind, is the actual smuggling itself. Once the books are safe in Bologna, it's a comparatively simple matter to circulate them."
"For my part," said Martini, "I am against the plan. In the first place, all this about his skilfulness is mere conjecture; we have not actually seen him engaged in frontier work and do not know whether he keeps his head in critical moments."
"Oh, you needn't have any doubt of that!" Riccardo put in. "The history of the Savigno affair proves that he keeps his head."
"And then," Martini went on; "I do not feel at all inclined, from what little I know of Rivarez, to intrust him with all the party's secrets. He seems to me feather-brained and theatrical. To give the whole management of a party's contraband work into a man's hands is a serious matter. Fabrizi, what do you think?"
"If I had only such objections as yours, Martini," replied the professor, "I should certainly waive them in the case of a man really possessing, as Rivarez undoubtedly does, all the qualifications Riccardo speaks of. For my part, I have not the slightest doubt as to either his courage, his honesty, or his presence of mind; and that he knows both mountains and mountaineers we have had ample proof. But there is another objection. I do not feel sure that it is only for the smuggling of pamphlets he goes into the mountains. I have begun to doubt whether he has not another purpose. This is, of course, entirely between ourselves. It is a mere suspicion. It seems to me just possible that he is in connexion with some one of the 'sects,' and perhaps with the most dangerous of them."
"Which one do you mean--the 'Red Girdles'?"
"No; the 'Occoltellatori.'"
"The 'Knifers'! But that is a little body of outlaws--peasants, most of them, with neither education nor political experience."
"So were the insurgents of Savigno; but they had a few educated men as leaders, and this little society may have the same. And remember, it's pretty well known that most of the members of those more violent sects in the Romagna are survivors of the Savigno affair, who found themselves too weak to fight the Churchmen in open insurrection, and so have fallen back on assassination. Their hands are not strong enough for guns, and they take to knives instead."
"But what makes you suppose Rivarez to be connected with them?"
"I don't suppose, I merely suspect. In any case, I think we had better find out for certain before we intrust our smuggling to him. If he attempted to do both kinds of work at once he would injure our party most terribly; he would simply destroy its reputation and accomplish nothing. However, we will talk of that another time. I wanted to speak to you about the news from Rome. It is said that a commission is to be appointed to draw up a project for a municipal constitution."
牛虻显然知道如何为自己树敌。他是在八月到达佛罗伦萨的，到了十月底，委员会的四分之三成员赞同马尔蒂尼的观点。他对蒙泰尼里的猛烈抨击甚至惹恼了崇拜他的人。对于这位机智的讽刺作家所说的话和所做的事，加利起先全力支持，现在却愤愤不平，开始承认最好还是放过蒙泰尼里。
“正直的红衣主教可不多。偶然出现这么一个，还是应该对他客气一些。”
对于暴风雨般的漫画和讽刺诗文，唯一仍旧漠然视之的人好像就是蒙泰尼里本人。就像马尔蒂尼所说的那样，看来不值得浪费精力嘲笑一个如此豁达的人。据说蒙泰尼里在城里时，有一天应邀去和佛罗伦萨大主教一起进餐。他在屋里发现了牛虻所写的一篇文章，这篇讽刺文章大肆对他进行人身攻击。读完以后，他把文章递给了大主教，并说：“写得相当精彩，对不对？”
有一天，城里出现了一份传单，标题是《圣母领报节之圣迹》［圣母领报节为三月二十五日。《圣经》称天使迦勃里尔（Gabriel）在这一天奉告圣母玛利亚，她将得子耶稣。］。尽管作者略去了众人熟知的签名，没有画上一只展翅的牛虻，但是辛辣而又犀利的文风也会让大多数读者明白无误地猜出这是谁写的文章。这篇讽刺文章是用对话的形式写成。托斯卡纳充当圣母玛利亚；蒙泰尼里充作天使，手里拿着象征纯洁的百合花，头上顶着象征和平的橄榄枝，宣布耶稣会教士就要降临。通篇充满了意在人身攻击的隐喻，以及最险恶的暗示。整个佛罗伦萨都觉得这一篇讽刺文章既不大度又不公正。可是整个佛罗伦萨还是笑了起来。牛虻那些严肃的荒诞笑话有着某种无法抗拒的东西，那些最不赞成他的人与最不喜欢他的人，读了他的讽刺文章也会像他那些最热忱的支持者一样开怀大笑。虽然传单的语气让人感到厌烦，但是它却在城中大众的感情上留下了痕迹。蒙泰尼里个人的声誉太高，不管讽刺文章是多么机智，那都不能对他造成严重的伤害。但是有一段时间，事态几乎朝着对他不利的方向发生了逆转。牛虻已经知道应该盯在什么地方。尽管热情的群众仍旧会聚集在红衣主教的房前，等着看他走上或者走下马车，但是在欢呼声和祝福声中，经常也夹杂着：“耶稣会教士！”“圣信会奸细！”这样不祥的口号声。
但是蒙泰尼里并不缺乏支持者。这篇讽刺文章发表以后两天，教会出版的一份主要报纸《教徒报》刊出一篇出色的文章，题目是《答〈圣母领报节之圣迹〉》，署名“某教徒”。
针对牛虻的无端诽谤，这一篇充满激情的文章为蒙泰尼里作了辩护。这位匿名作者以雄辩的笔调和极大的热忱，先是阐述了世界和平及人类友好的教义，说明了新教皇是福音传教士，最后要求牛虻证明在其文中得出的结论，并且郑重呼吁公众不要相信一个为人所不齿的、专事造谣中伤的家伙。作为一篇特别的应辩文章，它极有说服力；作为一篇文学作品，其价值又远远超出一般的水平。所以这篇文章在城里引起了许多人的注意，特别是因为连报纸的编辑都不知道作者的身份。文章很快就以小册子的形式分头印刷，佛罗伦萨的各家咖啡店里都有人在谈论这位“匿名辩护者”。
牛虻作出了反应，他猛烈攻击新教皇及其所有的支持者，特别是蒙泰尼里。他谨慎地暗示蒙泰尼里可能同意别人撰文颂扬自己。对此，那位匿名作者又在《教徒报》上应答，愤然予以否认。蒙泰尼里在此逗留的余下时间里，两位作者之间展开的激烈论战引起了公众的注意，从而无心留意那位著名的传道士。
自由派的一些成员斗胆规劝牛虻不必带着那么恶毒的语调对待蒙泰尼里，但是他们并没有从他那里得到满意的答复。
他只是态度和蔼地笑笑，慢慢吞吞、磕磕巴巴地答道：“真—真的，先生们，你们太不公平了。在向波拉夫人作出让步时，我曾公开表示应该让我这会儿开个小—小的玩笑。契约是这样规定的呀！”［此句引自莎士比亚《威尼斯商人》第四幕第一场中夏洛克的话。］蒙泰尼里在十月底回到了罗马尼阿教区。他动身离开佛罗伦萨之前，作了一次告别布道。他温和地表示不大赞成两位作者的激烈言辞，并且恳求为他辩护的那位匿名作者作出一个宽容的榜样，结束一场无用而又不当的文字战。《教徒报》在第二天登出了一则启事，声明遵照蒙泰尼里大人的意愿，“某教徒”将会撤出这场论战。
最后还是牛虻说了算。他发表了一份小传单，宣称蒙泰尼里的基督教谦让精神缴了他的械，他已经改邪归正，准备搂住他所见到的第一位圣信会教士，并且洒下和解的眼泪。
“我甚至愿意，”他在文章的结尾部分说，“拥抱向我挑战的那位匿名作者。如果我的读者像我和红衣主教阁下那样，知道了这意味着什么，而且也知道了他为什么隐姓埋名，那么他们就会相信我这番话的真诚。”
他在十一月的后半月向文学委员会宣布，他要到海边休假两个星期。他显然去了里窝那，但是里卡尔多很快就跟了过去，希望和他谈谈，找遍全城也没有发现他的踪影。十二月五日，沿亚平宁山脉的教皇领地爆发了异常激烈的政治游行示威，人们开始猜测牛虻突发奇想，在深冬的季节要去休假的理由。在骚乱被镇压以后，他回到广佛罗伦萨。他在街上遇到了里卡尔多，和颜悦色地说：“我听说你到里窝那找我，我当时是在比萨。那个古城真是漂亮，大有阿卡迪亚那种仙境的遗风。”
圣诞节那个星期的一天下午，他参加了文学委员会召开的会议。会议的地点是在里卡尔多医生的寓所，即在克罗斯门附近。这是一次全会，他晚来了一点。他面带微笑，歉然地鞠了躬。当时好像已经没有了空座。里卡尔多起身要去隔壁的房间取来一把椅子，但是牛虻制止了他。“别麻烦了，”他说，“我在这就挺舒服。”说着他已走到房间那头的窗户跟前，琼玛的座椅就在旁边。他坐在窗台上，懒洋洋地把头靠在百叶窗上。
他眯起眼睛，笑盈盈地俯视琼玛，带着深不可测的斯芬克斯式神态，这就使他看上去像是列奥纳多·达·芬奇肖像画中的人物。他原已使她产生一种本能的不信任感，这种感觉现在深化成了一种莫名其妙的恐惧感。
这次讨论的议题是发表一份小册子，阐明委员会对托斯卡纳面临饥馑的观点，以及应该对此采取什么措施。这是一个很难决定的问题，因为如同往常一样，委员会在这个议题上产生了严重的分歧。琼玛、马尔蒂尼和里卡尔多属于激进的一派，他们主张强烈呼吁政府和公众立即采取切实的措施，以便解救农民的困苦。温和的一派——当然包括格拉西尼——害怕过分激烈的措词也许将会激怒而不是说服政府。
“想要立即帮助人民，先生们，用心是很好的。”他环视了一下那些面红耳赤的激进分子，带着平静而又怜悯的口吻说道，“我们大多数人都想得到许多我们不大可能得到的东西，但是如果我们采用你们所提议的那种语气，那么政府就很有可能不会着手行动，直到真的出现饥荒他们才会采取救济措施。如果我们只是劝说政府内阁调查收成情况，这倒是未雨绸缪。”
坐在炉旁一角的加利跳起来反驳他的宿敌。
“未雨绸缪——对，我亲爱的先生。但是如果发生了饥荒，它可不会等着我们从容绸缪。等到我们运去实实在在的救济品之前，人民也许就已忍饥挨饿了。”
“听听——”萨科尼开口说道，但是好几个人的声音打断了他的话。
“大点声，我们听不清。”
“我也听不清，街上闹翻了天。”加利怒气冲冲地说道，“里卡尔多，窗户关了没有？说话连自己都听不清楚。”
琼玛回过头去。“关了，”她说，“窗户关得死死的。我看是有一班玩杂耍的或是别的什么从这儿经过。”
从下面街道传来阵阵的叫声和笑声，以及铃声和脚步声，夹着一个铜管乐队差劲的吹奏声和一面大鼓无情的敲击声。
“这些日子没办法，”里卡尔多说，“圣诞节期间肯定会闹哄哄的。萨科尼，你刚才在说什么？”
“我是说听听比萨和里窝那那边的人对这个问题有什么看法。也许里瓦雷兹先生能够给我们讲一讲，他刚从那里回来。”
“里瓦雷兹先生！”琼玛叫道。她是唯一坐在他身边的人，因为他仍然默不做声，所以她弯腰碰了一下他的胳膊。他慢慢地转过身来，面对着她。看见这张沉如死水的脸，她吓了一跳。片刻之间，这像是一张死人的脸。过了一会儿，那两片嘴唇才动了起来，怪怪的，毫无生气。
“对，”他小声说道，“一班玩杂耍的。”
她的第一直觉是挡住他，免得别人感到好奇。她不明白他是怎么回事，但是她意识到他产生了某种可怕的幻想或幻觉，而且这时他的身心全然为它所支配。她迅速站了起来，站在他和众人之间，并且打开了窗户，装作往外张望。只有她自己看见了他的脸。
一个走江湖的马戏班子从街上经过，卖艺人骑在驴上，扮作哈里昆的人穿着五颜六色的衣服。披上节日盛装的人们开怀大笑，摩肩接踵。他们与小丑插科打诨，相互扔着如雨般的纸带，并把小袋的话梅掷向坐在彩车里的科伦宾。那位扮作科伦宾的女人用金银纸箔和羽毛把自己装饰起来，前额披着几缕假发卷，涂了口红的嘴唇露出做作的笑容。彩车后面跟着一群形态迥异的人——流浪汉、叫花子、翻着斤斗的小丑和叫卖的小贩。他们推推搡搡，乱扔乱砸，并为一个人拍手叫好。因为人群熙来攘往，所以琼玛起先没有看到是什么一个人。可是，随后她就看清了——一个驼子，又矮又丑，穿着稀奇古怪的衣服，头上戴着纸帽，身上挂着铃铛。他显然属于那个走江湖的杂耍班子。他做出可憎的鬼脸，并且弯腰曲背。
“那儿出了什么事？”里卡尔多走到窗户跟前问道。“你们好像饶有兴趣。”
他感到有点吃惊，为看一帮走江湖的卖艺人，他们竟让委员会全体成员等在一旁。琼玛转过身来。
“没什么意思，”她说，“只是一帮玩杂耍的。可是声音那么嘈杂，我还以为是什么别的东西呢。”
她站在那里，一只手仍然抹着窗户。她突然感到牛虻伸出冰冷的手指，充满激情地握住那只手。“谢谢你。”他轻声说道。他关上了窗户，重又坐在窗台上。
“恐怕，”他淡淡地说，“我打断了你们开会，先生们。我刚才是在看杂耍表演，真、真是热、热闹。”
“萨科尼向你提了一个问题。”马尔蒂尼粗声粗气地说道。
牛虻的举止在他看来是荒诞不经的装腔作势，他感到气恼的是琼玛这样随便，竟也学他的样子。这不像她一贯的作风。
牛虻声称他对比萨人民的情绪一无所知，他去那里“只是休假”。他随即就展开了激烈的讨论，先是大谈农业收成的前景，然后又大谈小册子的问题。他虽然说话结巴，但是滔滔不绝，搞得其他的人精疲力竭。他好像从自己的声音里找到了一些让人狂喜不已的乐趣。
会议结束了，委员会的成员起身离去。这时里卡尔多走到马尔蒂尼的跟前。
“你能留下来陪我吃饭吗？法布里齐和萨科尼已经答应留下来了。”
“谢谢，可是我要把波拉夫人送回家。”
“你真的害怕我自己回不了家吗？”她说着站了起来，并且披上了她的围巾。“当然他要留下来陪你，里卡尔多医生。换换口味对他有好处。他出门的次数可不多。”
“如果你愿意的话，我来送你回家吧，”牛虻插嘴说道，“我也是往那个方向走。”
“如果你真的往那边走的话——”
“里瓦雷兹，我看晚上你没有空过来了吧？”里卡尔多在为他们开门时问道。
牛虻回头笑出声来。“我亲爱的朋友，是说我吗？我可要去观看杂耍表演！”
“真是一个怪人，奇怪的是对卖艺的人这样情有独钟！”里卡尔多回来以后对他的客人说道。
“我看这是出于一种同行之间的情感吧，”马尔蒂尼说道，“我要是见过卖艺的人，这个家伙就是一个。”
“我希望我只是把他当成一个卖艺的人，”法布里齐表情严肃，在一旁插嘴说道，“如果他是一个卖艺的人，恐怕他是一个非常危险的卖艺人。”
“危险在什么地方？”
“呃，我不喜欢他那么热衷于短期旅行，这些意在取乐的旅行又是那么神秘。你们知道这已是第三次了。我不相信他是去了比萨。”
“我看这几乎是一个公开的秘密，他是去了山里。”萨科尼说道，“他根本就不屑否认他仍与私贩子保持联系，他是在萨维尼奥起义中认识他们的。他利用他们之间的友谊，把他的传单送到教皇领地边境那边，这是十分自然的。”
“我嘛，”里卡尔多说道，“想跟你们谈的就是这个问题。我有个想法，我们倒是不妨请里瓦雷兹负责我们的私运工作。建在皮斯托亚的印刷厂管理不善，在我看来效率很差。运过边境的传单总是卷在雪茄烟里，没有比这更原始的了。”
“这种方法迄今可是非常有效。”马尔蒂尼执拗地说。加利和里卡尔多总是把牛虻树为模范，对此他开始感到厌烦。他倾向于认为在这个“懒散的浪人”摆平大家之前，一切都是井然有序。
“这种方法迄今也太有效了，所以我们就满足于现状，不去想着更好的方法。但是你们也知道近来有许多人被捕，没收了许多东西。现在我相信如果里瓦雷兹肯为我们负责这件事情，那么这样的情况就会减少。”
“你为什么这么想呢？”
“首先，私贩子把我们当成外行，或者说把我们当成有油水可榨的对象。可是里瓦雷兹是他们自己的朋友，很有可能是他们的领袖，他们尊重并且信任他。对于参加过萨维尼奥起义的人，亚平宁山区的每一位私贩子都肯为他赴汤蹈火，对我们则不会。其次，我们中间没有一个人像里瓦雷兹那样熟悉山里的情况。记住他曾在那里避过难，熟记每一条走私的途径。没有一个私贩子敢欺骗他，即使他想那样做都不成。如果私贩子敢欺骗他，那也骗不过他。”
“那么你就提议我们应该请他全面负责把印刷品运过边境——分发的渠道、投放的地址、藏匿的地点等等一切——抑或我们只是请他把东西运过去？”
“呃，至于投放的地址和藏匿的地点，他很可能全都知道了，甚至比我们知道的还要多。我看在这个方面我们教不了他多少东西。至于说到发行的渠道，这当然要看对方的意思。我考虑重要的问题是实际私运本身。一旦那些书籍运到了波洛尼亚，分发它们就是一个比较简单的问题了。”
“就我来看，”马尔蒂尼说，“我反对这项计划。第一，你们都说他办事如何老练，但是这些只是猜测。我们并没有亲眼见到他做过走私过境的工作，而且并不知道他在关键时刻能否镇静自若。”
“噢，对此你大可不必表示怀疑！”里卡尔多插了进来。
“萨维尼奥事件的历史证明了他能做到镇静自若。”
“还有，”马尔蒂尼接着说道，“从我对里瓦雷兹了解的情况来看，我并不倾向于把党的秘密全都交给他。在我看来他是一个轻浮做作的人。把党的私运工作委托给这样的人，这可是一个严肃的问题。法布里齐，你有什么看法？”
“如果我像你一样只有这些反对意见，马尔蒂尼，”教授答道，“我当然应该打消它们，里瓦雷兹这样的人无疑具备里卡尔多所说的全部条件。就我来看，我毫不怀疑他的勇气、他的诚实，或者他的镇定。他了解山里的情况，了解山民。我们有充足的证据。但是我还有一条反对意见。我相信他去山里并不是为了私运传单。我开始怀疑他另有目的。当然了，这一点我们只是私下说说而已。只是怀疑。在我看来，他可能与某个‘团体’保持联系，也许是最危险的团体。”
“你指的是什么——‘红带会’吗？”
“不，是‘短刀会’。”
“短刀会！但那可是一个由不法之徒组成的小团体——里面大多是农民，既没有受过教育，也没有政治经验。”
“萨维尼奥的起义者也是这样的人。但是他们有几位受过教育的人担任领袖，这个小团体或许也是这样。记住在这些比较过激的团体中，里面有萨维尼奥起义的幸存者。这一点广为人知。那些幸存者发现在公开的起义中，他们实力太弱，打不过教会的势力，所以他们专事暗杀。他们还没有达到可以拿起枪来、大干一场的地步，所以只得拿起刀子。”
“但你凭什么去猜里瓦雷兹和他们有联系呢？”
“我并不去猜，我只是怀疑。不管怎样，我认为在把私运工作交给他之前，我们最好查清此事。如果他试图同时兼任两种工作，他会给我们这个党造成极大的破坏。他只会毁了党的声誉，别的什么忙也帮不上。我们还是下次再来讨论这事吧。我想跟你们说说来自罗马的消息。据说将会任命一个委员会，起草一部地方自治宪法。”