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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Taquisara, by F. Marion Crawford
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Taquisara
+
+Author: F. Marion Crawford
+
+Release Date: February 12, 2004 [EBook #11050]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TAQUISARA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Riikka Talonpoika and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's note: Both "Matilde" and "Matilda" appear in the source
+text.]
+
+
+TAQUISARA
+
+BY
+
+F. MARION CRAWFORD
+
+1895
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+"Where shall I sign my name?"
+
+Veronica Serra's thin, dark fingers rolled the old silver penholder
+nervously as she sat at one end of the long library table, looking up at
+the short, stout man who stood beside her.
+
+"Here, if you please, Excellency," answered Lamberto Squarci, with an
+affable smile.
+
+His fingers were dark, too, but not thin, and they were smooth and dingy
+and very pointed, a fact which the young princess noticed with dislike,
+as he indicated the spot on the broad sheet of rough, hand-made paper,
+where he wished her to sign. A thrill of repulsion that was strong
+enough to be painful ran through her, and she rolled the penholder still
+more quickly and nervously, so that she almost dropped it, and a little
+blot of ink fell upon the sheet before she had begun to write.
+
+"Oh! It is of no importance!" said the Neapolitan notary, in a
+reassuring tone. "A little ink more or less!"
+
+He had some pink blotting-paper ready, and was already applying a corner
+of it to the ink-spot, with the neat skill of a professional scribe.
+
+"I will erase it when it is dry," he said. "You will not even see it.
+Now, if your Excellency will sign--that will make the will valid."
+
+Three other persons stood around Donna Veronica as she set the point of
+her pen to the paper, and two of them watched the characters she traced,
+with eager, unwinking eyes. The third was a very insignificant personage
+just then, being but the notary's clerk; but his signature was needed as
+a witness to the will, and he patiently waited for his turn. The other
+two were husband and wife, Gregorio and Matilde, Count and Countess
+Macomer; and the countess was the young girl's aunt, being the only
+sister of Don Tommaso Serra, Prince of Acireale, Veronica's dead father.
+She looked on, with an eager, pleased expression, standing upright and
+bending her head in order to see the point of the pen as it moved over
+the rough paper. Her hands were folded before her, but the uppermost one
+twitched and moved once or twice, as though it would go out to get
+possession of the precious document which left her all the heiress's
+great possessions in case of Donna Veronica's death. It was a bit of
+paper well worth having.
+
+The girl rose, slight and graceful, when she had written her name, and
+the finely chiselled lips had an upward curve of young scorn, as she
+turned from the table, while the notary and his clerk proceeded to
+witness the will. Immediately, the countess smiled, very brightly,
+showing beautiful teeth between smooth red lips, and her strong arms
+went round her young niece. She was a woman at least forty years of age,
+but still handsome.
+
+"I thank you with all my heart!" she cried. "It is a proof of affection
+which I shall never forget! You will live a hundred years--a thousand,
+if God will it! But the mere wish to leave me your fortune is a token of
+love and esteem which I shall know how to value."
+
+Donna Veronica kissed her aunt's fresh cheek coldly, and drew back as
+soon as she could.
+
+"I am glad that you are pleased," she answered in a cool and colourless
+voice.
+
+She felt that she had said enough, and, so far as she expected any
+thanks, her aunt had said too much. She had made the will and had signed
+it, for the sake of peace, and she asked nothing but peace in return.
+Ever since she had left the convent in which she had been educated and
+had come to live with her aunt, the question of this will had arisen at
+least once every day, and she knew by heart every argument which had
+been invented to induce her to make it. The principal one had always
+been the same. She had been told that if, in the inscrutable ways of
+Providence, she should chance to die young, unmarried and childless,
+the whole of the great Acireale property would go to relations whom she
+had never seen and of whom she scarcely knew the names. This, the
+Countess Macomer had insisted, would be a terrible misfortune, and as
+human life was uncertain, even when one was very young, it was the duty
+of Veronica to provide against it, by leaving everything to the one
+remaining member of the Serra family who, with herself, represented the
+direct line, who had taken a mother's place and duties in bringing up
+the orphan girl, and who had been ready to sacrifice every personal
+consideration for the sake of the child's welfare.
+
+Veronica did not see clearly that the Countess Macomer had ever really
+sacrificed anything at all in the execution of her trust as guardian,
+any more than the count himself, who, with Cardinal Campodonico, was a
+joint trustee, had ever been put to any inconvenience, beyond that of
+being the uncle by marriage of one of the richest heiresses in Italy. It
+was natural that when she had signed the will at last, she should
+receive her aunt's effusive thanks rather coldly, and that she should
+show very little enthusiasm when her uncle kissed her forehead and
+expressed his appreciation of her loving intention. The plain truth was
+that if she had refused any longer to sign the will, the two would have
+made her life even more unbearable than it was already.
+
+She knew that there was no reason why her life should be made hard to
+bear. She was not only rich, and a princess in her own right. She was
+young and, if not pretty, at least fairly well endowed with those gifts
+which attract and please, and bring their possessor the daily little
+satisfactions that make something very like happiness, before passion
+throws its load into the scales of life on the right side or the wrong.
+She knew that, at her age, she might have been married already, and she
+wondered that her aunt should not have proposed to marry her before now.
+Yet in this she was not displeased, for her best friend, Bianca
+Campodonico, had been married two years already to Corleone, of evil
+fame, and was desperately unhappy. Veronica dreaded a like fate, and was
+in no haste to find a husband. The countess told her always that she
+should be free to choose one for herself within reasonable limits of
+age, name, and fortune. Such an heiress, with such a fortune, said
+Matilde Macomer, could marry whom she pleased. But so far as Veronica
+had been allowed to see the world, the choice seemed anything but large.
+
+The count and countess had always been very careful in the selection of
+their intimate associates--they could hardly be said to have any
+intimate friends. Since Veronica had come to them from the convent in
+Rome, where she had been educated according to her dead father's
+desire, they had been doubly cautious and trebly particular as to the
+persons they chose to receive. Their responsibility, they said openly,
+was very great. The child's happiness, was wholly in their hands. They
+would be held accountable if she should form an unfortunate attachment
+for some ineligible young man who might chance to dine at their table.
+The responsibility, they repeated with emphasis, was truly enormous. It
+was also an unfortunate fact that in their Neapolitan society there were
+many young men, princes and dukes by the score, who had nothing but
+their names and titles to recommend them, and who would have found it
+very hard to keep body and title together, so to say, if gambling had
+suddenly been abolished, or had gone out of fashion unexpectedly.
+
+Then, too, the Macomer couple had always led a retired life and had kept
+aloof from the very gay portion of society. They lived well, according
+to their station, and so far as any one could see; but it had always
+been said that Gregorio Macomer was miserly. At the same time it suited
+his wife, for reasons of her own, not to be conspicuous in the world,
+and she encouraged him to lead a quiet existence, spending half the year
+in the country, and receiving very few people when in Naples during the
+winter and spring. Gregorio had one brother, Bosio, considerably younger
+than himself and very different in character, who was not married and
+who lived at the Palazzo Macomer, on excellent terms both with Gregorio
+and the countess, as well as with Veronica herself. The young girl was
+inclined to like him, though she felt dimly that she could never
+understand him as she believed that she understood her aunt and uncle.
+He was, indeed, almost the only man, excepting her uncle, whom she could
+be said to know tolerably well. He was not present on that afternoon
+when she signed the will, but his absence did not surprise her, for he
+had always abstained from any remarks about her property or his
+brother's and sister-in-law's guardianship, in such a marked way as to
+make her understand that he really wished to know nothing about the
+management or disposal of her fortune.
+
+She liked him for several reasons,--for his non-interference in
+discussions about her affairs, for a certain quiet consideration, just a
+shade more friendly than deference, which he showed for her slightest
+wishes, and chiefly, perhaps, for his conversation and perfectly even
+temper.
+
+Her uncle Macomer was not always good-tempered and he was never
+considerate. He was a stiff man, of impenetrable face, much older than
+his wife, cold when he was pleased, and harsh as rough ice when he was
+annoyed; a tall, bony man, with flattened lips, from which the grey
+moustaches and the beard were brushed smoothly away in all directions.
+He had very small eyes--a witty enemy of his said they were so small
+that one could not find them in his face, and those who knew him laughed
+at the jest, for they always seemed hard to find when one wished to meet
+them. His shoulders were unusually high and narrow, but he did not
+stoop. On the contrary, he habitually threw back his head, with a
+certain coldly aggressive stiffness, so that he easily looked above the
+person with whom he was talking. Though he had never been given to any
+sort of bodily exercise, his hands were naturally horny, and they were
+almost always cold. For the rest, he was careful of his appearance and
+scrupulous in matters of dress, like many of his fellow-countrymen. In
+his household he insisted upon a neatness as fastidious as his own, and
+nothing could have induced him to employ a Neapolitan servant. His
+family colours were green and black, and the green of his servants'
+liveries was of the very darkest that could be had.
+
+He imposed his taste upon his household, and gave it a certain marked
+respectability which betrayed no information about his fortune. To all
+appearances he was not poor; but it would have been impossible to say
+with certainty whether he were rich or only in moderate circumstances.
+He was undoubtedly more careful than ninety-nine out of a hundred of his
+fellow-citizens, in getting the value of what he spent, to the
+uttermost splitting of farthings; and when he spoke of money there was a
+certain cruel hardening of the hard lines in his face, which Veronica
+never failed to notice with dislike. She wondered how her aunt could
+have led an apparently tranquil life with such a man during more than
+twenty years.
+
+Doubtless, she thought, Bosio's presence acted as a palliative in the
+somewhat grim atmosphere of the Palazzo Macomer. He was utterly
+different from his brother. In the first place, he was gentle and kind
+in speech and manner, though apparently rather sad than gay. He was
+different in face, in figure, in voice, in carriage--having quiet brown
+eyes, and brown hair only streaked with grey, with a full, silky beard;
+a clear pale complexion; in frame shorter than Gregorio, with smaller
+bones, slightly inclined to stoutness, but rather graceful than stiff;
+small feet and well-shaped hands of pleasant texture; a clear, low voice
+that never jarred upon the ear, and a kindly, half-sad laugh in which
+there was a singular refinement, of the sort which shows itself more in
+laughter than in speech. Laughter is, indeed, a terrible betrayer of the
+character, and a surer guide in judgment than most people know. For men
+learn to use their voices skilfully and to govern their tones as well as
+their words; but, beyond not laughing too loud for ordinary decency of
+behaviour, there are few people who care, or realize, how they laugh;
+and those who do, and who, being aware that there is room for
+improvement, endeavour to improve, very generally produce either a
+semi-musical noise, which is false and affected, or a perfectly inane
+cachinnation which has nothing human in it at all.
+
+Bosio Macomer was a refined man, not only by education and outward
+contact with the refinements he sought in others, but within himself and
+by predisposition of nature. He read much, and found beauties in books
+which his friends thought dull, but which appealed tenderly to his
+innate love of tenderness. He had probably lost many illusions, but the
+sweetest of them all was still fresh in him, for he loved nature
+unaffectedly. In an unobtrusive way he was something of an artist, and
+was fond of going out by himself, when in the country, to sketch and
+dream all day. Veronica did not understand how with such tastes he could
+bear the life in the Palazzo Macomer, for months at a time. He was free
+to go and come as he pleased, and since he preferred the country, she
+wondered why he did not live out of town altogether. His existence was
+the more incomprehensible to her, as he rarely lost an opportunity of
+finding fault with Naples as a city and with the Neapolitans as human
+beings. Sometimes he did not leave the house for many days, as he
+frankly admitted, preferring the little apartment in the upper story of
+the house, where he lived independently, with one old servant, amongst
+his books and his pictures, appearing downstairs only at dinner, and not
+always then. His place was always ready for him, but no one ever
+remarked his absence, nor inquired where he might be when he chose to
+stay away.
+
+He was on excellent terms with every one. The servants adored him, while
+they feared his brother and disliked the countess; when he appeared he
+never failed to kiss the countess's hand, and to exchange a friendly
+word or two with Gregorio; but as for the latter, Bosio made no secret
+of the fact that he preferred the society of the ladies of the household
+to that of the count, with whom he had little in common. He certainly
+admired his sister-in-law, and more than once frankly confessed to
+Veronica that in his opinion Matilde Macomer was still the most
+beautiful woman in the world. Yet Veronica had observed that he was
+critical of looks in other women, and she thought his criticisms
+generally just and in good taste. For her part, however, if he chose to
+consider her middle-aged aunt lovely, Veronica would not contradict him,
+for she was cautious in a certain degree, and in spite of herself she
+distrusted her surroundings.
+
+There were times when the Countess Macomer inspired her with confidence.
+Those very beautiful dark eyes of hers had but one defect, namely, that
+they were quite too near together; but they were still the best
+features in the elder woman's face, and when Veronica looked at them
+from such an angle as not to notice their relative position, she almost
+believed that she could trust them. But she never liked the smooth red
+lips, nor the over-pointed nose, which had something of the falcon's
+keenness without its nobility. The thick and waving brown hair grew
+almost too low on the white forehead, and, whether by art or nature, the
+eyebrows were too broad and too dark for the face, though they were so
+well placed as to greatly improve the defect of the close-set eyes.
+There was a marvellous genuine freshness of colour in the clear
+complexion, and the woman carried her head well upon a really
+magnificent neck. She was strong and vital and healthy, and her
+personality was as distinctly dominating as her physical self. Yet she
+was generally very careful not to displease her husband, even when he
+was capricious, and Veronica was sometimes surprised by the apparent
+weakness with which she yielded to him in matters about which she had as
+good a right as he to an opinion and a decision. The girl supposed that
+her aunt was not so strong as she seemed to be, when actually brought
+face to face with the rough ice of Gregorio Macomer's character.
+
+Veronica made her observations discreetly and kept them to herself, as
+was not only becoming but wise. At first the change from the
+semi-cloistered existence of the convent in Rome to the life at the
+Palazzo Macomer had dazzled the girl and had confused her ideas. But
+with the natural desire of the very young to seem experienced, she had
+begun by manifesting no surprise at anything she saw; and she had soon
+discovered that, although she was supposed to be living in the society
+of the most idle and pleasure-loving city in the world, her surroundings
+were in reality neither gay nor dazzling, but decidedly monotonous and
+dull. She had dim, childish memories of magnificent things in her
+father's house, though the main impression was that of his death,
+following closely, as she had been told, upon her mother's. Of the
+latter, she could remember nothing. In dreams she saw beautiful things,
+and brilliant light and splendid pictures and enchanted gardens, and
+when she awoke she felt that the dreams had been recollections of what
+she had seen, and of what still belonged to her. But she sought the
+reality in vain. The grand old palace in the Toledo was hers, she was
+told, but it was let for a term of years to the municipality and was
+filled with public offices; the marble staircases were black and dingy
+with the passing of many feet that tracked in the mud in winter and the
+filthy dust of Naples in summer. Dark, poor faces and ill-clad forms
+moved through the halls, and horrible voices echoed perpetually in the
+corridors, where those who waited discussed taxes, and wrangled, and
+cursed those in power, and cheated one another, and picked a pocket now
+and then, and spat upon the marble pavement whereon royal and lordly
+feet had so often trod in days gone by. It had all become a great nest
+of dirt and stealing and busy chicanery, where dingy, hawk-eyed men with
+sodden white faces and disgusting hands lay in wait for the unwary who
+had business with the city government, to rob them on pretence of
+facilitating their affairs, to cringe for a little coin flung them in
+scorn sometimes by one who had grown rich in greater robbery than they
+could practise--sometimes, too, springing aside to escape a kick or a
+blow as ill-tempered success went swinging by, high-handed and vulgarly
+cruel, a few degrees less filthy and ten thousand times more repulsive.
+
+Once, Veronica had insisted upon going through the palace. She would
+never enter it again, and after that day, when she passed it, she turned
+her face from it and looked away. Vaguely, she wondered whether they
+were not deceiving her and whether it were really the home she dimly
+remembered. There had been splendid things in it, then--she would not
+ask what had become of them, but without asking, she was told that they
+had been wisely disposed of, and that instead of paying people for
+keeping an uninhabited palace in order, she was receiving an enormous
+rent for it from the city.
+
+Then she had wished to see the lovely villa that came back in the
+pictures of her dreams, and she had been driven out into the country
+according to her desire. From a distance, as the carriage approached it,
+she recognized the lordly poplars, and far at the end of the avenue the
+elaborately stuccoed front and cornices of the old-fashioned "barocco"
+building. But the gardens were gone. Files of neatly trimmed vines,
+trained upon poles stuck in deep furrows, stretched away from the avenue
+on either side. The flower garden was a vegetable garden now, and the
+artichokes and the cabbages and the broccoli were planted with
+mathematical regularity up to the very walls. There were hens and
+chickens on the steps and running in and out of the open door, and from
+a near sty the grunt of many pigs reached her ears. A pale,
+earthy-skinned peasant, scantily clad in dusty canvas, grinned sadly and
+kissed the hem of her skirt, calling her 'Excellency' and beginning at
+once to beg for reduction of rent. A field-worn woman, filthy and
+dishevelled, drove back half a dozen nearly naked children whose little
+legs were crusted with dry mud, and whose faces had not been washed for
+a long time.
+
+And within, there was no furniture. In the rooms upstairs were stores of
+grain and potatoes, and red peppers and grapes hanging on strings. The
+cracked mirrors, built into the gilded stucco, were coated with heavy
+unctuous dust, and the fine old painted tiles on the floor were loose
+and broken in places. In the ceiling certain pink and well-fed cherubs
+still supported unnatural thunderclouds through which Juno forever drove
+her gold-wheeled car and team of patient peacocks, smiling high and
+goddess-like at the squalor beneath. Still Diana bent over Endymion
+cruelly foreshortened in his sleep, beyond the possibility of a waking
+return to human proportions. Mars frowned, Jove threatened, Venus rose
+glowing from the sea; and below, the unctuous black dust settled and
+thickened on everything except the cracked floors piled with maize and
+beans and lupins, and rubbed bright between the heaps by the peasants'
+naked feet.
+
+Veronica turned her back upon the villa, as she had turned from the
+great palace in the Toledo. They whispered to her that the peasant's
+rent must not be reduced, for he was well able to pay, and they pointed
+to the closely planted vines and vegetables and olives that stretched
+far away to right and left, where she remembered in her dreams of far
+childhood that there had been lawns and walks and flowers. The man, she
+was told, was not the only peasant on the place. There were other houses
+now, and huts that could shelter a family, and there was land, land,
+always more land, as far as she could see, all as closely and neatly
+and regularly planted with vegetables and grain, vines and olives; and
+it was all hers, and yielded enormous rents which were wisely invested.
+She was very rich indeed, but to her it all seemed horribly sordid and
+grinding and mean--and the peasants looked prematurely old, labour-worn,
+filthy, wretchedly poor. If she had even had any satisfaction from so
+much wealth, it might have seemed different. She said so, in her heart.
+She was accustomed to tell her confessor that she was proud and
+uncharitable and unfeeling--not finding any real misdeeds to confess.
+She was willing to believe that she was all that and much more. If she
+had been living in the whirling, golden pleasure-storm of an utterly
+thoughtless world, she believed herself bad enough to have shut her
+memory's eyes to the haggard peasant-mother of the dirty half-clad
+children--to all the hundreds of them who doubtless lived just like the
+one she had seen, all upon her lands; she could have forgotten the
+busy-thieving, sodden-faced crowd that thronged the chambers wherein her
+fathers had been born and had feasted kings and had died--the very room
+where her own father had lain dead. She could have shut it all out, she
+thought, if she had held in her hands the gold that all this brought, to
+scatter it at her will; for she was sure that she had not a better heart
+than other girls of her age. But she had never seen it. The reality of
+her own life was too weak and colourless, by contrast, to make the name
+of fortune an excuse for the sordid facts of meanness. There was no
+splendour about her, no wild gaiety, none of the glorious extravagance
+of conscious young wealth, and there was very little amusement to divert
+her thoughts. The people she would have liked to know were kept at a
+distance from her. She was advised not to buy the things which attracted
+her eyes, and was told that they were not so good as they looked, and
+that on the whole it was better to keep money than to spend it--but
+that, of course, she might do as she pleased, and that when she wanted
+money her uncle Macomer would give it to her.
+
+It all passed through his hands, and he managed everything, with the
+assistance of Lamberto Squarci the notary and of other men of
+business--mostly shabby-looking men in black, with spectacles and
+unhealthy complexions, who came and went in the morning when old Macomer
+was in his study attending to affairs. Veronica knew none but Squarci by
+name, and never spoke with any of them. There seemed to be no reason why
+she should.
+
+The count had told her that when she wished it, he was ready to render
+an account of the estates and would be happy to explain everything to
+her at length. She understood nothing of business and was content to
+accept the roughest statement as he chose to give it to her. She was
+far too young to distrust the man whom she had been taught to respect as
+her guardian and as a person of scrupulous honesty. She was completely
+in his power, and she was accustomed to ask him for any little sums she
+needed. It never really struck her that he might misuse the authority
+she indifferently left in his hands.
+
+It was her aunt who had induced her to make the will, and for whose
+conduct she felt a sort of undefined resentment and contempt.
+Considering, she thought, how improbable it was that she herself should
+die before Matilde Macomer, the latter had shown an absurd anxiety about
+the disposal of the fortune. If Veronica had yielded the point, she had
+done so in order to get rid of an importunity which wearied her
+perpetually. She was to marry, of course, in due time. God would give
+her children, and they would inherit her wealth. It was really
+ridiculous of her aunt to be so anxious lest it should all go to those
+distant relations in Sicily and Spain. Nevertheless, in order to have
+peace, she signed the will, and her aunt thanked her effusively, and old
+Macomer's flat lips touched her forehead while he spoke a few words of
+gratified approval.
+
+In the evening she told Bosio, the count's brother, of what she had
+done. His gentle eyes looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds, and
+he did not smile, nor did he make any observation.
+
+A few minutes later he was talking of a picture he had seen for sale--a
+mere sketch, but by Ribera, called the Spagnoletto. She made up her mind
+to buy it for him as a surprise, for it pleased her to give him
+pleasure.
+
+But when she was alone in her room that night she recalled Bosio's
+expression when she had told him about the will. She was sure that he
+was not pleased, and she wondered why he had not at least said something
+in reply--something quite indifferent perhaps, but yet something,
+instead of looking at her in total silence, just for those few seconds.
+After all, she was really more intimate with him than with her aunt and
+uncle, and liked him better than either of them, so that she had a right
+to expect that he should have answered with something more than silence
+when she told him of such a matter.
+
+She sat a long time in a deep chair near her toilet table, thinking
+about her own life, in the great dim room which half a dozen candles
+barely lighted; and perhaps it was the first time that she had really
+asked herself how long her present mode of existence was to continue,
+how long she was to lie half-hidden, as it were, in the sombrely
+respectable dimness of the Macomer establishment, how long she was to
+remain unmarried. Knowing the customs of her own people in regard to
+marriage, as she did, it was certainly strange that she should not have
+heard of any offer made to her uncle and aunt for her hand. Surely the
+mothers of marriageable sons knew of her existence, of her fortune, of
+the titles she held in her own right and could confer upon her husband
+and leave to her children. It was not natural that no one should wish to
+marry her, that no mother should desire such an heiress for her son.
+
+With the distrustful introspection of maiden youth, she suddenly asked
+herself whether by any possibility she were different from other girls
+and whether she had not some strange defect, physical or mental, of
+which the existence had been most carefully concealed from her all her
+life. In the quick impulse she rose and brought all the burning candles
+to the toilet table, and lighted others, and stood before the mirror, in
+the yellow light, gazing most critically at her own reflexion. She
+looked long and earnestly and quite without vanity. She told herself,
+cataloguing her looks, that her hair was neither black nor brown, but
+that it was very thick and long and waved naturally; that her eyes were
+very dark, with queer little angles just above the lids, under the
+prominent brows; that her nose, seen in full face, looked very straight
+and rather small, though she had been told by the girls in the convent
+that it was aquiline and pointed; that her cheeks were thin and almost
+colourless; that her chin was round and smooth and prominent, her lips
+rather dark than red, and modelled in a high curve; that her ears were
+very small--she threw back the heavy hair to see them better, turning
+her face sideways to the glass; that her throat was over-slender, and
+her neck and arms far too thin for beauty, but with a young leanness
+which might improve with time, though nothing could ever make them
+white. She was dark, on the whole. She was willing to admit that she was
+sallow, that her eyes had a rather sad look in them, and even that one
+was almost imperceptibly larger than the other, though the difference
+was so small that she had never noticed it before, and it might be due
+to the uncertain light of the candles in the dim room. But most
+assuredly there was no physical defect to be seen. She was not beautiful
+like poor Bianca Corleone; but she was far from ugly--that was certain.
+
+And in mind--she laughed as she looked at herself in the glass. Bosio
+Macomer told her that she was clever, and he certainly knew. But her own
+expression pleased her when she laughed, and she laughed again with
+pleasure, and watched herself in a sort of girlish and innocent
+satisfaction. Then her eyes met their own reflexion, and she grew
+suddenly grave again, and something in them told her that they were not
+laughing with her lips, and might not often look upon things mirthful.
+
+But she was not stupid, and she was not ugly. She had assured herself of
+that. The worst that could be said was that she was a very thin girl and
+that her complexion was not brilliant, though it was healthy enough, and
+clear. No--there was certainly no reason why her aunt should not have
+received offers of marriage for her, and many people would have thought
+it strange that she should be still unmarried--with her looks, her name,
+and that great fortune of which Gregorio Macomer was taking such good
+care.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+On that same night, when Veronica had gone to her room, Bosio Macomer
+remained alone with the countess in the small drawing-room in which the
+family generally spent the evening. Gregorio was presumably in his
+study, busy with his perpetual accounts or otherwise occupied. He very
+often spent the hours between dinner and bed-time by himself, leaving
+his brother to keep his wife company if Veronica chose to retire early.
+
+The room was small and the first impression of colour which it gave was
+that of a strong, deep yellow. There was yellow damask on the walls, the
+curtains were of an old sort of silk material in stripes of yellow and
+chocolate, and most of the furniture was covered with yellow satin. The
+whole was in the style of the early part of this century, modified by
+the bad taste of the Second Empire, with much gilded carving about the
+doors and the corners of the big panels in which the damask was
+stretched, while the low, vaulted ceiling was a mass of gilt stucco,
+modelled in heavy acanthus leaves and arabesques, from the centre of
+which hung a chandelier of white Venetian glass. There were no pictures
+on the walls, and there were no flowers nor plants in pots, to relieve
+the strong colour which filled the eye. Nevertheless the room had the
+air of being inhabited, and was less glaring and stiff and old-fashioned
+than it might seem from this description. There were a good many books
+on the tables, chiefly French novels, as yellow as the hangings; and
+there were writing materials and a couple of newspapers and two or three
+open notes. A small wood fire burned in a deep, low fireplace adorned
+with marble and gilt brass.
+
+Matilde Macomer sat, leaning back, upon a little sofa which stood across
+a corner of the room far from the fire. One hand lay idly in her lap,
+the other, as she stretched out her arm, lay upon the back of the sofa,
+and her head with its thick, brown hair was bent down. She had fixed her
+eyes upon a point of the carpet and had not moved from her position for
+a long time. The folds of her black gown made graceful lines from her
+knees to her feet, and her imposing figure was thrown into strong relief
+against the yellow background as she leaned to the corner, one foot just
+touching the floor.
+
+Bosio sat at a distance from her, on a low chair, his elbows on his
+knees, staring at the fire. Neither had spoken for several minutes.
+Matilde broke the silence first, her eyes still fixed on the carpet.
+
+"You must marry Veronica," she said slowly; "nothing else can save us."
+
+It was clear that the idea was not new to Bosio, for he showed no
+surprise. But he turned deliberately and looked at the countess before
+he answered her. There were unusual lines in his quiet face--lines of
+great distress and perplexity.
+
+"It is a crime," he said in a low voice.
+
+Matilda raised her eyes, with an almost imperceptible movement of the
+shoulders.
+
+"Murder is a crime," she answered simply. Then Bosio started violently
+and turned very white, almost rising from his seat.
+
+"Murder?" he cried; "what do you mean?"
+
+Matilde's smooth red lips smiled.
+
+"I merely mentioned it as an instance of a crime," she said, without any
+change of tone. "You said it would be a crime for you to marry Veronica.
+It did not strike me that it could be called by that name. Crimes are
+murder, stealing, forgery--such things. Who would say that it was
+criminal for Bosio Macomer to marry Veronica Serra? There is no reason
+against it. I daresay that many people wonder why you have not married
+her already, and that many others suppose that you will before long. You
+are young, you have never been married, you have a very good name and a
+small fortune of your own."
+
+"Take it, then!" exclaimed Bosio, impulsively. "You shall have it all
+to-morrow--everything I possess. God knows, I am ready to give you all I
+have. Take it. I can live somehow. What do I care? I have given you my
+life--what is a little money? But do not ask me to marry her, your
+niece, here, under your very roof. I am not a saint, but I cannot do
+that!"
+
+"No," answered the countess, "we are not saints, you and I, it is true.
+For my part, I make no pretences. But the trouble is desperate, Bosio. I
+do not know what to do. It is desperate!" she repeated with sudden
+energy. "Desperate, I tell you!"
+
+"I suppose that all I have would be of no use, then?" asked Bosio,
+disheartened.
+
+"It would pay the interest for a few months longer. That would be all.
+Then we should be where we are now, or shall be in three weeks."
+
+"Throw yourself upon her mercy. Ask her to forgive you and to lend you
+money," suggested Bosio. "She is kind--she will do it, when she knows
+the truth."
+
+"I had thought of that," answered Matilde. "But, in the first place, you
+do not know her. Secondly, you forget Cardinal Campodonico."
+
+"Since he has left the management of her fortune in Gregorio's hands, he
+will not begin to ask questions at this point. Besides, the guardianship
+is at an end--"
+
+"The estate has not been made over. He will insist upon seeing the
+accounts--that is no matter, for they will bear his inspection well
+enough. Squarci is clever! But Veronica sees him. She would tell him of
+our trouble, if we went to her. If not, she would certainly tell Bianca
+Corleone, who is his niece. If he suspected anything, let alone knowing
+the truth, that would be the end of everything. It would be better for
+us to escape before the crash--if we could. It comes to that--unless you
+will help us."
+
+"By marrying Veronica?" asked Bosio, with a bitterness not natural to
+him.
+
+"I see no other way. The cardinal could see the accounts. You could be
+married, and the fortune could be made over to you. She would never
+know, nor ask questions. You could set our affairs straight, and still
+be the richest man in Naples or Sicily. It would all be over. It would
+be peace--at last, at last!" she repeated, with a sudden change of tone
+that ended in a deep-drawn sigh of anticipated relief. "You do not know
+half there is to tell," she continued, speaking rapidly after a moment's
+pause. "We are ruined, and worse than ruined. We have been, for years.
+Gregorio got himself into that horrible speculation years and years ago,
+though I knew nothing about it. While Veronica was a minor, he helped
+himself, as he could--with her money. It was easy, for he controlled
+everything. But now he can do nothing without her signature. Squarci
+said so last week. He cannot sell a bit of land, a stick of timber,
+anything, without her name. And we are ruined, Bosio. This house is
+mortgaged, and the mortgage expires on the first of January, in three
+weeks. We have nothing left--nothing but the hope of Veronica's
+charity--or the hope that you will marry her and save us from starvation
+and disgrace. I got her to sign the will. There was--"
+
+The countess checked herself and stopped short, turning an emerald ring
+which she wore. She was pale.
+
+"There was what?" asked Bosio, in an unsteady tone.
+
+"There was just the bare possibility that she might die before January,"
+said Matilde, almost in a whisper. "People die young sometimes, you
+know--very young. It pleases Providence to do strange things. Of course
+it would be most dreadful, if she were to die, would it not? It would be
+lonely in the house, without her. It seems to me that I should see her
+at night, in the dark corners, when I should be alone. Ugh!"
+
+Matilde Macomer shivered suddenly, and then stared at Bosio with
+frightened eyes. He glanced at her nervously.
+
+"I am afraid of you," he said.
+
+"Of me?" Her presence of mind returned. "What an idea! just because I
+suggested that poor little Veronica might catch a cold or a fever in
+this horrible weather and might die of the one or the other? And just
+because I am fond of her, and said that I should be afraid of seeing her
+in the dark! Heaven give her a hundred years of life! Why should we talk
+of such sad things?"
+
+"It is certainly not I who wish to talk of them, or think of them,"
+answered Bosio, thoughtfully, and turning once more to the fire. "You
+are overwrought, Matilde--you are unhappy, afraid of the future--what
+shall I say? Sometimes you speak in a strange way."
+
+"Is it any wonder? The case is desperate, and I am desperate, too--"
+
+"Do not say it--"
+
+"Then say that you will marry Veronica, and save us all, and bring peace
+into the house--for my sake, Bosio--for me!"
+
+She leaned forward, and her hands met upon her knee in something like a
+gesture of supplication, while she sought his eyes.
+
+"For your sake," repeated Bosio, dreamily. "For your sake? But you ask
+the impossible, Matilde. Besides, she would not marry me. She would
+laugh at the idea. And then--for you and me--it is horrible! You have no
+right to ask it."
+
+"No right? Ah, Bosio! Have I not the right to ask anything of you, after
+all these years?"
+
+"Anything--but not that! Your niece--under your roof! No--no--no! I
+cannot, even if she would consent."
+
+"Not even--" Matilda's splendid eyes, so cruelly close together,
+fastened themselves upon the weak man's face, and she frowned.
+
+"Not even if you thought it would be much better for her?" she asked
+very slowly, completing the sentence.
+
+Again he started and shrank from her.
+
+"Just God!" he exclaimed under his breath. "That a woman should have
+such thoughts!" Then he turned upon her with an instinctive revival of
+manhood and honour. "You shall not hurt her!" he cried, as fiercely as
+his voice could speak. "You shall not hurt a hair of her head, not even
+to save yourself! I will warn her--I will have her protected--I will
+tell everything! What is my life worth?"
+
+"You would merely be told that you were mad, and we should have you
+taken out to the asylum at Aversa--as mad as I am, or soon shall be, if
+this goes on! You are mad to believe that I could do such things--I, a
+woman! And yet, I know I say words that have no reason in them! And I
+think crimes--horrible crimes, when I am alone--and I can tell no one
+but you. Have pity on me, Bosio! I was not always what I am now--"
+
+She spoke incoherently, and her steadiness broke down all at once, for
+she had been living long under a fearful strain of terror and anxiety.
+The consciousness that she could say with safety whatever came first to
+her lips helped to weaken her. She half expected that Bosio would rise,
+and come to her and comfort her, perhaps, as she hid her face in her
+hands, shivering in fear of herself and shaking a little with the
+convulsive sob that was so near.
+
+But Bosio did not move from his seat. He sat quite still, staring at the
+fire. He was not a physical coward, but, morally speaking, he was
+terrified and stunned by what he had understood her to say. Probably no
+man of any great strength of character, however bad, could have lived
+the life he had led in that house for many years, dominated by such a
+woman as Matilde Macomer. And now his weakness showed itself, to himself
+and to her, in what he felt, and in what he did, respectively. A strong
+man, having once felt that revival of manly instinct, would have turned
+upon her and terrified her and mastered her; and, within himself, his
+heart might have broken because he had ever loved such a woman. But
+Bosio sat still in his seat and said nothing more, though his brow was
+moist with a creeping, painful, trembling emotion that twisted his heart
+and tore his delicate nerves. He felt that his hands were very cold,
+but that he could not speak. She dominated him still, and he was ashamed
+of the weakness, and of his own desire to go and comfort her and forget
+the things she had said.
+
+If he had spoken to her, she would have burst into tears; but his
+silence betrayed that he had no strength, and she suddenly felt that she
+was strong again, and that there was hope, and that he might marry
+Veronica, after all. A woman rarely breaks down to very tears before a
+man weaker than herself, though she may be near it.
+
+"You must marry her," said Matilde, with returning steadiness. "You owe
+it to your brother and to me. Should I say, 'to me,' first? It is to
+save us from disgrace--from being prosecuted as well as ruined, from
+being dragged into court to answer for having wilfully defrauded--that
+is the word they would use!--for having wilfully defrauded Veronica
+Serra of a great deal of money, when we were her guardians and
+responsible for everything she had. My hands are clean of that--your
+brother did it without my knowledge. But no judge living would believe
+that I, being a guardian with my husband, could be so wholly ignorant of
+his affairs. There are severe penalties for such things, Bosio--I
+believe that we should both be sent to penal servitude; for no power on
+earth could save us from a conviction, any more than anything but
+Veronica's money can save us from ruin now. Gregorio has taken much,
+but it has been, nothing compared with the whole fortune. If you marry
+her, she will never know--no one will know--no one will ever guess. As
+her husband you will have control of everything, and no one then will
+blame you for taking a hundredth part of your wife's money to save your
+brother. You will have the right to do it. Your hands will be clean,
+too, as they are to-day. What is the crime? What is the difficulty? What
+is the objection? And on the other side there is ruin, a public trial, a
+conviction and penal servitude for your own brother, Gregorio, Count
+Macomer, and Matilde Serra, his wife."
+
+"My God! What a choice!" exclaimed Bosio, pressing both his cold hands
+to his wet forehead.
+
+"There is no choice!" answered the woman, with low, quick emphasis.
+"Your mind is made up, and we will announce the engagement at once. I do
+not care what objection Veronica makes. She likes you, she is half in
+love with you--what other man does she know? And if she did--she would
+not repent of marrying you rather than any one else. You will make her
+happy--as for me, I shall at least not die a disgraced woman. You talk
+of choice! Mine would be between a few drops of morphia and the
+galleys,--a thousand times more desperate than yours, it seems to me!"
+
+Her large eyes flashed with the furious determination to make him do
+what she desired. His hands had fallen from his face, and he was looking
+at her almost quietly, not yielding so much as she thought, but at least
+listening gravely instead of telling her that she asked the impossible.
+
+The door opened discreetly, and a servant appeared upon the threshold.
+
+"The Signor Duca della Spina begs your Excellency to receive him for a
+moment, if it is not too late."
+
+"Certainly," answered the countess, instantly, and with perfect
+self-control.
+
+The servant closed the door and went back to deliver the short message.
+Matilde threw the folds of her black gown away from her feet, so that
+she might rise to meet the visitor, who was an old man and a person of
+importance. She looked keenly at Bosio.
+
+"Do not go away," she said quickly, in a low voice. "Your forehead is
+wet--dry it--compose yourself--be natural!"
+
+Before Bosio had returned his handkerchief to his pocket the door opened
+again, and a tall old man entered with a stooping gait. He had weak and
+inquiring eyes that looked about the room as he walked. His head was
+bald, and shone like a skull in the yellow reflexion from the damask
+hangings. His gait was not firm, and as he passed Bosio in order to
+reach the countess, he had an uncertain movement of head and hand, as
+though he were inclined to speak to him first. Matilde had risen,
+however, and had moved a step forward to meet the visitor, speaking at
+the same time, as though to direct him to herself, with the somewhat
+maternal air which even young women sometimes assume in greeting old
+men.
+
+The Duca della Spina smiled rather feebly as he took the outstretched
+hand, and slowly sat down upon the sofa beside Matilde.
+
+"I feared it might be too late," he began, and his watery blue eyes
+sought her face anxiously. "But my son insisted that I should come this
+evening, when he found that I had not been able to see you this
+afternoon."
+
+"How is he?" asked the countess, suddenly assuming an expression of
+great concern.
+
+"Eh! How he is! He is--so," answered the Duca, with a gesture which
+meant uncertainty. "Signora Contessa," he added, "he is not well at all.
+It is natural with the young. It is passion. What else can I tell you?
+He is impatient. His nerves shake him, and he does not eat. Morning and
+evening he asks, 'Father, what will it be?' So, to content him, I have
+come to disturb you."
+
+"Not in the least, dear Duca!"
+
+The door opened again, and Gregorio Macomer entered the room, having
+been informed of the presence of a visitor. The Duca looked up, and his
+head shook involuntarily, as he at once began the slow process of
+getting upon his legs. But Macomer was already pressing him into his
+seat again, holding the old hand in both of his with an appearance of
+much cordiality.
+
+"I hope that Gianluca is no worse?" he said, with an interrogation that
+expressed friendly interest.
+
+"Better he is not," answered the Duca, sadly. "What would you? It is
+passion. That is why I have come at this hour, and I have made my
+excuses to the Signora Contessa for disturbing her."
+
+"Excuses?" cried Gregorio, promptly. "We are delighted to see you, dear
+friend!"
+
+But as he spoke he turned a look of inquiry upon his wife, and she
+answered by a scarcely perceptible sign of negation.
+
+They had been taken by surprise, for they had not expected the Duca's
+visit. Not heeding them, his heart full of his son, the old man
+continued to speak, in short, almost tremulous sentences.
+
+"It is certain that Gianluca is very ill," he said. "Taquisara has been
+with him to-day, and Pietro Ghisleri--but Taquisara is his best friend.
+You know Taquisara, do you not?"
+
+"A Sicilian?" asked the countess, encouraging the old man to go on.
+
+"Yes," said Macomer, answering for the Duca, for he was proud of his
+genealogical knowledge, "The only son of the old Baron of Guardia. But
+every one calls him Taquisara, though his father is dead. There is a
+story which says that they are descended from Tancred."
+
+"It may be," said the old Duca. "There are so many legends--but he is
+Gianluca's best friend, and he comes to see him every day. The boy is
+ill--very ill." He shook his head, and bent it almost to his breast. "He
+wastes away, and I do not know what to do for him."
+
+The Count and Countess Macomer also shook their heads gravely, but said
+nothing. Bosio, seated at a little distance, looked on, his brain still
+disturbed by what had gone before, and wondering at Matilde's power of
+seeming at her ease in such a desperate situation; wondering, too, at
+his brother's hard, cold face--the mask that had so well hidden the
+passion of the gambler, and perhaps many other passions as well, of
+which even Bosio knew nothing, nor cared to know anything, having
+secrets of his own to keep.
+
+All at once, and without warning, after the short pause, the old man
+broke out in tremulous entreaty.
+
+"Oh! my friends!" he cried. "Do not say no! I shall not have the courage
+to take such a message to my poor son! Eh, they say that nowadays
+old-fashioned love is not to be found. But look at Gianluca--he consumes
+himself, he wastes away before my eyes, and one day follows another, and
+I can do nothing. You do not believe? Go and see! One day follows
+another--he is always in his room, consuming himself for love! He is
+pale--paler than a sheet. He does not eat, he does not drink, he does
+not smoke--he, who smoked thirty cigarettes a day! As for the theatre,
+or going out, he will not hear of it. He says, 'I will not see her, for
+if she will not have me, it is better to die quickly.' A father's heart,
+dear Macomer--think of what I suffer, and have compassion! He is my only
+one--such a beautiful boy, and so young--"
+
+"We are sorry," said Matilde, with firm-voiced sympathy that was already
+a refusal.
+
+"You will not!" cried the old man, shakily, in his distress. "Say you
+will not--but not that you are sorry! And Heaven knows it is not for
+Donna Veronica's money! The contract shall be as you please--we do not
+need--"
+
+"Who has spoken of money?" The countess's tone expressed grave
+indifference to such a trifle. "Dear Duca, do not be distressed. We
+cannot help it. We cannot dictate to Providence. Had circumstances been
+different, what better match could we have found for her than your dear
+son? But I told you that the girl's inclinations must be consulted, and
+that we had little hope of satisfying you. And now--" She looked
+earnestly at her husband, as though to secure his consent
+beforehand--"and now it has turned out as we foresaw. Courage, dear
+Duca! Your son is young. He has seen Veronica but a few times, and they
+have certainly never been alone together--what can it really be, such
+love-passion as that? Veronica has made her choice."
+
+Not a muscle of Macomer's hard face moved. He knew that if his wife had
+a surprise for him on the spur of the moment, it must be for their joint
+interest. But the Duca della Spina's jaw dropped, and his hands shook.
+
+"Yes,"--continued the countess, calmly, "Veronica has made her choice.
+It is hard for us to tell you, knowing how you feel for your son.
+Veronica is engaged to be married to Bosio, here."
+
+Bosio started violently, for he was a very nervously organized man; but
+his brother's face did not change, though the small eyes suddenly
+flashed into sight brightly from beneath the drooping, concealing lids.
+A dead silence followed, which lasted several seconds. Matilde had laid
+her hand upon the Duca's arm, as though to give him courage, and she
+felt it tremble under her touch, for he loved his son very dearly.
+
+"You might have written me this news," he said at last, in a low voice
+and with a dazed look. "You might--you might have spared me--oh, my son!
+My poor Gianluca!" His voice broke, and the weak, sincere tears broke
+from the watery eyes and trickled down the wasted cheeks piteously,
+while his head turned slowly from side to side in sorrowfully hopeless
+regret.
+
+"It has only been decided this evening," said Matilde. "We should have
+written to you in the morning."
+
+"Of course," echoed her husband, gravely. "It was our duty to let you
+know at once."
+
+The Duca della Spina rose painfully to his feet. He seemed quite
+unconscious of the tears he had shed, and too much shaken to take leave
+with any formality. Bosio stood quite still, when he had risen too, and
+his face was white. The old man passed him without a word, going to the
+door.
+
+"My poor son! my poor Gianluca!" he repeated to himself, as Gregorio
+Macomer accompanied him.
+
+Matilde and Bosio were left alone for a moment, but they knew that the
+count would return at once. They stood still, looking each at the other,
+with very different expressions.
+
+Bosio felt that, in his place, a strong, brave man would have done
+something, would have stood up to deny the engagement, perhaps, or would
+have left the room rather than accept the situation in submissive
+silence, protesting in some way, though only Matilde should have
+understood the protest. She, on her side, slowly nodded her approval of
+his conduct, and in her dark eyes there was a yellow reflexion from the
+predominating colour of the room; there was triumph and satisfaction,
+and there was the threat of the woman who dominates the man and is sure
+of doing with him as she pleases. Yet she was not so sure of herself as
+she seemed, and wished to seem, for she dreaded Bosio's sense of honour,
+which was not wholly dead.
+
+"Do not deny it to Gregorio," she said, in a low tone, when she heard
+her husband's footstep returning through the room beyond.
+
+Old Macomer came back and closed the door behind him.
+
+"What is this?" he asked, at once; but though his voice was hard, it was
+trembling with the anticipation of a great victory. "Has Veronica
+consented?"
+
+"No one has spoken to her," answered Bosio, before Matilde could speak.
+
+"As though that mattered!" cried the countess, with contempt. "There is
+time for that!"
+
+Gregorio's eyelids contracted with an expression of cunning.
+
+"Oh!" he exclaimed thoughtfully, "I understand." He began to walk up and
+down in the narrow space between the furniture of the small
+sitting-room, bending his head between his high shoulders. "I see," he
+repeated. "I understand. But if Veronica refuses? You have been rash,
+Matilde."
+
+"Veronica loves him," answered the countess. "And of course you know
+that he loves her," she added, and her smooth lips smiled. "You need
+not deny it before us, Bosio. You have loved her ever since she came
+from the convent--"
+
+"I?" Bosio's pale face reddened with anger.
+
+"See how he blushes!" laughed Matilde. "As for Veronica, she will talk
+to no one else. They are made for each other. She will die if she does
+not marry Bosio soon."
+
+The yellow reflexion danced in her eyes, as she fastened them upon her
+brother-in-law's face, and he shuddered, remembering what she had said
+before the Duca had come.
+
+"If that is the case," said Macomer, "the sooner they are married, the
+better. Save her life, Bosio! Save her life! Do not let her die of love
+for you!"
+
+He, who rarely laughed, laughed now, and the sound was horrible in his
+brother's ears. Then he suddenly turned away and left the room, still
+drily chuckling to himself. It was quite unconscious and an effect of
+his overwrought and long-controlled nerves.
+
+Matilde and Bosio were alone again, and they knew that he would not come
+back. Bosio sank into his chair again, and pressed the palms of his
+hands to his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees.
+
+"The infamy of it!" he groaned, in the bitterness of his weak misery.
+
+Matilde stood beside him, and gently stroked his hair where it was
+streaked with grey. He moved impatiently, as though to shake off her
+strong hand.
+
+"No," she said, and her voice grew as soft as velvet. "It is to save
+me--to save us all."
+
+He shook her off, and rose to his feet with spasmodic energy.
+
+"I cannot--I will not--never!" he cried, walking away from her with
+irregular steps.
+
+"But it will be so much better--for Veronica, too," she said softly, for
+she knew how to frighten him.
+
+He turned with startled eyes. Then, with the impulse of a man escaping
+from something which he is not strong enough to face, he reached the
+door in two quick strides, and went out without looking back.
+
+Matilde watched the door, as it closed, and stood still a few seconds
+before she left the room. Her eyes wandered to the clock, and she saw
+that it was nearly midnight.
+
+The look of triumph faded slowly from her face, and the brows contracted
+in a look which no one could easily have understood, except Bosio
+himself, perhaps, had he still been there. The smooth lips were drawn in
+and tightly compressed; and she held her breath, while her right hand
+strained upon her left with all her might. Then the lips parted with a
+sort of little snap as she drew breath again; and she turned her head
+suddenly, and looked behind her, growing a trifle paler, as though she
+expected to see something startling.
+
+She tried to smile, and roused herself, rang the bell for the servant to
+put out the lights, and left the room. It was long before she slept that
+night. In the next room she could hear Gregorio's slow and regular
+footsteps, as he walked up and down without ceasing. In his own room
+upstairs, Bosio Macomer sat staring at the ashes of the burnt-out fire
+on his hearth. Only Veronica was asleep, dreamless, young, and restful.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+Naples, more than any other city of Italy, is full of the violent
+contrasts which belong to great old cities everywhere, and the absence
+of which makes new cities dull, be they as well built, as well situated,
+as civilized and as beautiful as they can be made by art handling nature
+for the greater glory of modern humanity.
+
+In Naples, there is a fashionable new quarter, swept, watered, and
+garnished with plants and trees, but many of the great palaces stand in
+old and narrow streets, rising up, grim and solemn and proud, out of the
+recklessly vital life of one of the worst populaces in the world. Fifty
+paces away, again, is a wide thoroughfare, perhaps, raging and roaring
+with traffic from the port. A hundred yards in another direction, and
+there is a clean, deserted court, into which the midday sun pours itself
+as into a reservoir of light,--a court with a quiet church and simple
+old houses, through the doors of which pale-faced ecclesiastics silently
+come and go.
+
+Round the next corner leads a dark lane, between hugely high buildings
+that press the air and keep out the sun and all sky but a thin ribband
+of blue. And the air is heavy with all vile things, from the ill-washed
+linen that hangs, slowly drying, from the upper windows, thrust out into
+the draught with sticks, to the rotting garbage in the gutters below.
+The low-arched doors open directly upon the slimy, black pavement; and
+in the deep shadows within sit strange figures with doughy faces and
+glassy eyes, breathing in the stench of the nauseous, steamy
+air,--working a little, perhaps, at some one of the shadowy, back-street
+trades of a great city, but poisoned to death from birth by the air they
+live in, diseased of the diseased, from very childhood, and prolific as
+disease itself, multiplying to fatten death at the next pestilence.
+
+And then, again, a vast square, gaudy with coloured handbills, noisy
+with wheels and the everlasting Neapolitan chattering of a thick-lipped,
+loud, degenerate dialect. There the little one-horse cabs tear hither
+and thither, drivers lashing their wretched beasts, wheels whirling,
+arms gesticulating, bad eyes flashing and leering, thick lips chattering
+everlastingly: and the tram-cars roll along, crowded till the people
+cling to one another on the steps; and the small boys dodge in and out
+between the cars and the carriages and the horses and the
+foot-passengers, some screaming out papers for sale, some looking for
+pockets to pick, some hunting for stumps of cigars in the dust,--dirty,
+ragged, joyous, foul-mouthed, God-forsaken little boys; and then through
+the midst of all, as a black swan swimming stately through muddy waters,
+comes a splendid, princely equipage, all in mourning, from the black
+horses to the heavy veil just raised across a young widow's white
+face--and so, from contrast to contrast, through the dense city, and
+down to the teeming port, and out at last to the magic southern sea,
+where the clean life of the white-sailed ships passes silently, and
+scarce leaves a momentary wake to mar the pure waters of the tideless
+bay.
+
+But there is life everywhere,--reckless, excessive, and the desire for
+life as a supreme good, worth living for its own sake--even if it is to
+be food for the next year's pestilence--a life that can support itself
+on anything, and thrive in its own fashion in the flashing sun, and the
+dust and the dirt, and multiply beyond measure and mysteriously fast.
+Only here and there in the swarm something permanent and fossilized
+stands solid and unchanging, and divides the flight of the myriad
+ephemeral lives--a monument, a church, a fortress, a palace: or,
+perhaps, the figure of some man of sterner race, with grave eyes and
+strong, thin lips, and manly carriage, looms in the crowd, and by its
+mere presence seems to send all the rest down a step to a lower level of
+humanity.
+
+Such a man was Taquisara, the Sicilian, of whom the old Duca della Spina
+had spoken. He had no permanent abode in Naples, but lived in a hotel
+down by the public gardens, beyond Santa Lucia; and on the day after the
+Duca had been to see the Countess Macomer, he strolled up as usual, by
+short cuts and narrow streets, to see his friend Gianluca in the Spina
+palace, in the upper part of the city. Many people looked at him, as he
+went by, and some knew him for a Sicilian, by his face, while some took
+him for a foreigner, and pressed upon him to beg, or made faces and vile
+gestures at him, as soon as he could not see, after the manner of the
+lower Neapolitans. But he passed calmly on, supremely indifferent, his
+handsome, manly face turning neither to the right nor the left.
+
+He might have stood for the portrait of a Saracen warrior of the
+eleventh century, with his high, dark features and keen eyes, his even
+lips, square jaw, and smooth, tough throat. He had, too, something of
+the Arabian dignity in his bearing, and he walked with long,
+well-balanced steps, swiftly, but without haste, as the Arab walks
+barefooted in the sand, not even suspecting that weariness can ever come
+upon him; erect, proud, without self-consciousness, elastic; collected
+and ever ready, in his easy and effortless movement, for sudden and
+violent action. He was not pale, as dark Italians are, but his skin had
+the colour and look of fresh light bronze, just chiselled, and able to
+reflect the sun, while having a light of its own from the strong blood
+beneath. That was the reason why the Neapolitans who did not chance to
+have seen Sicilians often, took him for a foreigner and got into his
+way, holding out their hands to beg, and making ape-like grimaces at him
+behind his back. But those who knew the type of his race and recognized
+it, did nothing of that sort. On the contrary, they were careful not to
+molest him.
+
+The friend whom he sought, high up in the city, in a luxurious, sunlit
+room overlooking the harbour and the wide bay, was as unlike him as one
+man could be unlike another--white, fair-haired, delicate, with soft
+blue eyes and silken lashes, and a passive hand that accepted the
+pressure of Taquisara's rather than returned it--the pale survival of
+another once conquering race.
+
+Gianluca was evidently ill and weak, though few physicians could have
+defined the cause of his weakness. He moved easily enough when he rose
+to greet his friend, but there was a mortal languor about him, and an
+evident reluctance to move again when he had resumed his seat in the
+sun. He was muffled in a thickly wadded silk coat of a dark colour. His
+fair, straight hair was brushed away from his thin, bluish temples, and
+the golden young beard could not conceal the emaciation of his throat
+when his head leaned against the back of his easy-chair.
+
+Taquisara sat down and looked at him, lighted a black cigar and looked
+again, got up, stirred the fire and then went to the window.
+
+"You are worse to-day," he said, looking out. "What has happened?" He
+turned again, for the answer.
+
+"It is all over," said Gianluca. "My father was there last night. She is
+betrothed to Bosio Macomer."
+
+His voice sank low, and his head fell forward a little, so that his chin
+rested upon his folded hands. Taquisara uttered an exclamation of
+surprise, and bit the end of his cigar.
+
+"She? To marry Bosio Macomer? No--no--I do not believe it."
+
+"Ask my father," said Gianluca, without raising his eyes. "Bosio was
+there, in the room, when they told my father the news."
+
+"No doubt," said Taquisara, beginning to walk up and down. "No doubt,"
+he repeated. "But--" He lit his cigar instead of finishing the sentence,
+and his eyes were thoughtful.
+
+"But--what?" asked his friend, dejectedly. "If it had not been true,
+they would not have said it. It is all over."
+
+"Life, you mean? I doubt that. Nothing is over, for nothing is done.
+They are not married yet, are they?"
+
+"No, of course not!"
+
+"Then they may never marry."
+
+"Who can prevent it? You? I? My father? It is over, I tell you. There is
+no hope. I will see her once more, and then I shall die. But I must see
+her once more. You must help me to see her."
+
+"Of course," answered Taquisara. "But what strange people you are!" he
+exclaimed, after a moment's pause. "Who can understand you? You are
+dying for love of her. That is curious, in the first place. I understand
+killing for love, but not dying oneself, just by folding one's hands and
+looking at the stars and repeating her name. Then, you do nothing. You
+do not say, 'She shall not marry Macomer, because I, I who speak, will
+prevent it, and get her for myself.' No. Because some one has said that
+she will marry him, you feel sure that she will, and that ends the
+question. For the word of a man or a woman, all is to be finished. You
+are all contemplation, no action--all heart, no hands--all love, no
+anger! You deserve to die for love. I am sorry that I like you."
+
+"You always talk in that way!" said Gianluca, with a wearily sad
+intonation. "I suppose that life is different in Sicily."
+
+"Life is life, everywhere," returned the Sicilian. "If I love a woman,
+it is not for the pleasure of loving her, nor for the glory of having it
+written on my tombstone that I have died for her. It is better that
+some one else should die and that I should have what I want. How does
+that seem to you? Is it not logic? It is true that I have never loved
+any woman in that way. But then, I am young, though I am older than you
+are."
+
+"What can I do?" The pale young man smiled sadly and shook his head.
+"You do not understand our society. I cannot even see her except at a
+distance, unless they choose to permit it. I cannot write love letters
+to her, can I? In our world one cannot do such things, and it would be
+of no use if I could--"
+
+"I would," said Taquisara. "I would write. I would see her--I would
+empty hell and drag Satan out by the hair to help me, if the saints
+would not. But you! You sit still and die of love. And when you are
+dead, what will you have? A fine tomb out in the country, and lights,
+and crowns, and some masses--but you will not get the woman you love. It
+is not love that consumes you. It is imagination. You imagine that you
+are going to die, and unless you recover from this, you probably will.
+With your temperament, the best thing you can do is to come with me to
+Sicily and forget all about Donna Veronica Serra. No woman would ever
+look at a man who loves as you do. She might pity you enough to marry
+you, if no one else presented himself just then; but when she was tired
+of pitying you she would love some one else. It is not life to be
+always pitying. That is the business of saints and nuns--not of men and
+women."
+
+Gianluca was hurt by his friend's tone.
+
+"You admit that you never were in love," he said; "how can you
+understand me?"
+
+"That is just it! I do not understand you. But if I were you, I would
+take matters into my own hands. I will wager anything you please that
+Donna Veronica has never so much as heard that you wish to marry her--"
+
+"But they have told her, of course!" interrupted Gianluca. "They have
+asked her--"
+
+"Who told you so?" inquired Taquisara, incredulously. "And if any one
+has told you, why should you believe it? There are several millions on
+the one side, which Macomer wishes to possess, and there can be nothing
+on the other but the word of one of the interested persons. You have met
+her in the world and exchanged a few words--that has been all--"
+
+"I have spoken with her five times," said Gianluca, thoughtfully.
+
+"Have you counted?" Taquisara smiled. "Very good--five times--seventeen,
+if you like--you, sitting on the edge of your chair and opening your
+eyes wide to see her profile while she was looking at her aunt--you,
+saying that it was a fine day, or that Tamagno was a great singer; and
+she, saying 'yes' to everything. And you love her. Well, no doubt. I
+could love a woman with whom I might never have spoken at
+all--surely--and why not? But you take it for granted that she knows you
+love her and expects you to ask for her, and has been told that you have
+done so and has herself dictated the refusal. You are credulous and
+despondent, and you are not strong. Besides, you sit here all day long,
+brooding and doing nothing but expecting to die, and hoping that she
+will shed a tear when she hears of your untimely end. Is that what you
+call making love in Naples?"
+
+"I have told you that I can do nothing."
+
+"It does not follow that there is nothing to be done."
+
+"What is there, for instance?"
+
+"Go to the Palazzo Macomer and find out the truth yourself. Write to
+her--take your place before the door and stand there day and night until
+she sees you and notices you." Taquisara laughed. "Do anything--but do
+not sit here waiting to die in cotton wool with your feet to the fire
+and your head in the clouds."
+
+"All that is absurd!" answered Gianluca, petulantly.
+
+"Is it absurd? Then I will begin by doing it for you, and see what
+happens."
+
+"You?" The younger man turned in surprise.
+
+"I. Yes. All the more, as I have nothing to lose. I will go and find
+Bosio Macomer and talk with him--"
+
+"You will insult him," said Gianluca, anxiously. "There will be a
+quarrel--I know you--and a quarrel about her."
+
+"Why should we quarrel?" asked Taquisara. "I will congratulate him on
+his betrothal. I know him well enough for that, and in the course of
+conversation something may appear which we do not know. Besides, if I go
+to the house, I may possibly meet Donna Veronica; if I do, I shall soon
+know everything, for I will speak to her of you. I know her."
+
+"One sees that you are not a Neapolitan," said Gianluca, smiling
+faintly.
+
+"No," answered the other, "I am not." And he laughed with a sort of
+quiet consciousness of strength which his friend secretly envied. "It is
+true," he added, "that things look easy to me here, which would be
+utterly impossible in Palermo. We are different with our women--and we
+are different when we love. Thank Heaven, for the present--I am as I
+am."
+
+He smiled and relit his cigar, which had gone out.
+
+"No," said Gianluca. "You have never been in love, I think."
+
+His fair young head leaned back wearily against the chair, and his eyes
+were half closed as he spoke.
+
+"Nor ever shall be, in your way, my friend," answered the Sicilian,
+rising from his seat. "I suppose it is because we are so different that
+we have always been such good friends. But then--one need not look for
+reasons. It is enough that it is so."
+
+Again he took the delicate, thin hand in his and pressed it, and went
+away, much more anxious about Gianluca than he was willing to show. For
+though he had suspected much of what he now saw, as a possibility, it
+was a phase too new and startling not to trouble him greatly. It will
+readily be conceived that if Gianluca had always been the weak and
+dejected and despairing individual from whom Taquisara parted that
+morning, there could never have been much friendship between the two.
+But Gianluca, not in love, had been a very different person. With an
+extremely delicate organization and a very sensitive nature, he was
+naturally of a gay and sunny temper. The two had done voluntary military
+service in the same regiment during more than a year, and their rank,
+together with the fact that they were both from the south, had in the
+first place drawn them together. Before long they had become firm
+friends. In his normal condition Gianluca, though never strong, was
+brave, frank, and cheerful. Taquisara thought him at times poetic and
+visionary, but liked the impossible loftiness of his young ideals,
+because Taquisara himself was naturally attracted by all that looked
+impossible. Amongst a number of rather gay and thoughtless young men,
+who jested at everything, Gianluca adhered to his faith openly, and no
+one thought of laughing at him. He must have possessed something of that
+wonderful simplicity, together with much of the extraordinary tact,
+which helped some of the early saints to be what they were--the saints
+who were beloved rather than those who were persecuted. Not, indeed,
+that his conduct was always saintly, by any means, nor his life without
+reproach. But in an existence which ruins many young men forever he
+preserved an absolutely unaffected admiration for everything good and
+high and true, and had the rare power of asserting the fact, now and
+then, without being offensive to others. Taquisara had no desire to
+imitate him, but was nevertheless very strongly attracted by him, and if
+Gianluca had ever needed a defender, the Sicilian would have silenced
+his enemies at the risk of his own life. Gianluca, however, was
+universally liked, and had never been in need of any such old-fashioned
+assistance.
+
+Since he had been in love with Veronica Serra, he was completely
+changed, and it was no wonder that his friend was anxious about him.
+Taquisara, like most men of perfectly healthy mind and body, would have
+found it hard to believe that Gianluca was merely love-sick, and was
+literally 'consuming himself,' even to the point of death, in an
+unrequited passion. It was certainly true, however, that he had lost
+strength rapidly and without the influence of any illness which could be
+defined, ever since the negotiations for Veronica's hand had shown signs
+of coming to an unsatisfactory conclusion. And they had lasted long.
+Many letters had been exchanged. The old Duca had been several times to
+the Palazzo Macomer, and the count and countess had found many reasons
+by which to put off their decision. For Gianluca was a good match, and
+altogether an exceedingly desirable young man, and the countess had
+always thought that if she could not marry Veronica to Bosio, it might
+be wisest to accept Gianluca. He was always in delicate health, Matilda
+reflected, and he might possibly die and leave his wife still absolute
+mistress of her fortune, if the marriage contract were cleverly framed
+with a view to that contingency.
+
+But the young man himself had been diffident from the beginning, and at
+the first hesitation on the other side he had taken it for granted that
+all was lost. His slight vitality sank instantly under the
+disappointment, he refused to eat, he could not sleep, and he was in a
+really dangerous state before ten days had passed. Then he had sent for
+Taquisara, who visited him daily for nearly a week, encouraging him in
+every way, until to-day, when the news of the refusal was no more to be
+denied. It was characteristic of the Sicilian that he at once attempted
+to interfere with destiny in favour of his friend. He was not a man to
+lose time when time was precious. His ardent temper loved difficulties,
+even when they were not his own. Bold, untiring, discreet, and loyal, if
+there were anything to be done in Gianluca's case, he was the man to do
+it.
+
+Bosio Macomer was somewhat surprised that morning, when his old servant
+informed him that Taquisara was at the door. He knew him but slightly in
+the way of acquaintance, though very well by name and reputation, and he
+wondered what had brought him at that hour. He was inclined to say that
+he could not receive him, offering as an excuse that he was ill, which
+was almost true. But he reflected that such a man must have a good
+reason for wishing to see him. He remembered, too, that the Duca had
+spoken of him as Gianluca's friend, and in the terrible position in
+which Bosio himself was placed, it seemed to him possible that one of
+Gianluca's friends might help him,--how, he had not the power of
+concentrating his mind enough to guess,--and he ordered the servant to
+admit him.
+
+Bosio had not slept that night. He had spent the six hours between
+midnight and the December dawn in his easy-chair before the fireplace.
+Once or twice, towards morning, he had felt sleep creeping upon him
+through sheer physical exhaustion, but he had fought it off, afraid to
+lose one of the precious moments which he still had before him in which
+to think over what he should do. They were few enough, for a man of his
+nature.
+
+He knew the absolute truth of all that Matilde had told him, and he had
+even suspected much of it before she had first spoken. He knew that his
+brother had secretly ruined himself in financial speculations, in which
+he had employed Lamberto Squarci as his agent, and that, with Squarci's
+assistance, Gregorio had staved off the consequences of his actions by a
+fraudulent use of Veronica's fortune,--of such part of it as he could
+control, of course,--absorbing much of the enormous income, and even,
+from time to time, obtaining the consent of Cardinal Campodonico for the
+sale of certain lands, on pretence of making more profitable
+investments. During fully ten years, Gregorio's management of the estate
+must have been a systematic fraud upon Veronica Serra, carried on with
+sufficient skill to evade all inquiry from the cardinal. Gregorio's
+fictitious reputation as a strictly honourable man had helped him,
+together with the fact that his wife was the ward's own aunt, which was
+a strong presumption in favour of her honesty as a guardian. Then, too,
+it was generally believed that Macomer was a miser, and much richer than
+he allowed any one to suppose. As for the accounts of the estate, they
+could bear inspection, as Matilde had said, provided that no attempt
+were made to verify the existence of all the property therein described.
+
+The worst of the case was that Squarci had been an accomplice from the
+beginning, and had doubtless enriched himself while Macomer had lost
+everything. In the event of a suit brought by the ward against the
+guardians, it would be in Squarci's power to turn evidence in favour of
+Veronica, and expose the whole enormous theft; and it would be like him
+to keep on the side of wealth against ruin. For Veronica was still very
+rich, in spite of all that had been stolen.
+
+There could be little doubt but that in the event of an action, Gregorio
+and Matilde Macomer would be condemned to penal servitude, as the
+countess herself anticipated. It was equally certain that if Veronica
+married any one but Bosio, her husband and his family would demand that
+the accounts of the estate should be formally audited and the property
+scheduled; this must ultimately lead to the dreaded prosecution, which
+could have no possible conclusion but conviction and infamy.
+
+Whatever Bosio's true relations with Matilde had been in the course of
+the last ten years, he had at least loved her faithfully, with the
+complete devotion of a man who not only loves a woman, but is morally
+dominated by her in all the circumstances of life. He had not the
+character which seeks ideals, and he asked for none.
+
+Matilde's beauty and conversation had sufficed him, for in his opinion
+he had never known any one to be compared with her; and on her side she
+had been strong enough to make a slave of him from the first. To the
+extent of his weak character and considerable physical courage, there
+was no sacrifice which Bosio would not have been ready to make for her,
+and few dangers which he would not at least have attempted to face for
+her sake.
+
+But where all moral sense of right and all natural action of conscience
+were gone, there remained in the man an inheritance of traditional
+feeling, which even Matilde's influence could not make him wittingly
+violate any further,--a remnant of honour, a thread, as it were, by
+which his soul was still held above the level of total destruction.
+There was nothing, perhaps, involving himself alone, which he would have
+refused to do for Matilde's sake, under the pressure of her strong will.
+But what she required of him now was more than that, and worse. After a
+night of thought, he still felt that he could not do it.
+
+Of course, there was the possibility that Veronica herself might
+absolutely refuse to marry him, and thus save his weakness from the
+necessity of trying to be strong. But Bosio thought this improbable.
+
+The fatherless and motherless girl had been purposely kept from all
+outside influences by Gregorio and Matilde, in order that they might
+control her disposition for their own interests. She had been taught to
+expect that in due time they would select a husband for her from the men
+who might offer themselves, and that it would be more or less her duty
+to accept their decision, as being really the best for her own
+happiness. They had hindered her from forming friendships with girls of
+her own age, and altogether from acquaintanceship with young married
+women, excepting Bianca Corleone, who had been her friend in the
+convent. In society, when she went with them, men were introduced to her
+very rarely. Bosio had been present once or twice on such occasions, and
+he remembered having seen her with Gianluca. It had been very much as
+Taquisara had described it to Gianluca himself--a mere exchange of a few
+words, while the girl watched her aunt almost all the time with a sort
+of childish fear of doing something not quite right. Veronica could not
+be said to know any man to the extent of exchanging ideas with him,
+except her uncle and Bosio himself. And she liked Bosio very much. It
+was not at all improbable, considering all the circumstances, that she
+might be delighted with the idea of marrying him, merely because she
+liked him, and he was familiar in her daily life. Bosio knew that
+Matilde would speak to her about it at once; and when he tried to think
+what he should do if Veronica readily accepted the proposition, the pain
+in his head grew intolerable, and he found it impossible to think
+connectedly. The horrible dishonour of it stared him in the face--and
+beyond the dishonour, still more fearfully imposing, rose the vision of
+sure disgrace and infamy for the woman he loved, if he himself refused
+to do this vile deed.
+
+He looked ill, worn out with mental distress and physical exhaustion,
+when Taquisara entered the room, and the servant closed the door. The
+Sicilian came forward, and Bosio rose to meet him, still wondering why
+he had come, but far too much disturbed by his own troubles to care.
+Nevertheless, he supposed that the matter must be of some importance.
+Taquisara was surprised by his appearance, for he was evidently
+suffering.
+
+"I ought almost to ask you to excuse me for having received you, in my
+condition," said Bosio, politely. "I have a violent headache. But I am
+wholly at your service. In what can I be of use to you?"
+
+Taquisara found himself in an awkward position. He had expected to find
+Bosio Macomer radiant and ready to be congratulated by any one who chose
+to knock at his door. Instead, he found a man apparently both ill and
+distressed. He hesitated a moment, for he knew Bosio but slightly, after
+all.
+
+"I do not know whether you will think it strange that I should come," he
+said, and his square face grew more square as he looked straight at
+Bosio. "I am Gianluca della Spina's best friend."
+
+"Ah! Yes--I think I have heard so," answered Bosio, not startled, but
+considerably disturbed, as his gentle eyes met Taquisara's bold glance.
+
+"I have come, as a friend, to ask whether it is really true that you are
+to marry Donna Veronica Serra," continued Taquisara, feeling that after
+all he might as well go straight to the point.
+
+Bosio straightened himself a little in his chair, and there was a look
+of surprise in his face. But he hesitated an instant, in his turn.
+
+"That was the answer which my brother and his wife gave to the Duca
+della Spina," he replied coldly.
+
+"Yes," said Taquisara. "I know it was. That is the reason why I have
+come to you, directly, as Gianluca's friend."
+
+"Does Don Gianluca propose to call me out, because he cannot marry Donna
+Veronica?" asked Bosio, in surprise, and in a tone which showed that he
+was already offended.
+
+"No. He is very ill, and in no condition for that sort of amusement."
+
+"I am sorry to hear it," said Bosio, with cold civility. "But you come
+to represent him, in some way. Do I understand?"
+
+"He is ill--of love, as they say." Taquisara smiled at the idea, in
+spite of himself. "It is serious, at all events--so serious, that I have
+come in person to ask whether it is really true that you are betrothed
+to Donna Veronica, in order that I may take him the truth as I hear it
+from your lips. I daresay you think me indiscreet, Count Macomer, for I
+am only slightly acquainted with you. But I am sincerely devoted to
+Gianluca, and if you were a total stranger to me, I should come to you
+as I have come now."
+
+"And if I refuse to answer your question, Baron Taquisara--what then?"
+
+"As the answer--yes or no--cannot possibly involve anything in the
+slightest degree indelicate, I shall of course infer that you have no
+answer to give, and that the matter is not yet really settled."
+
+Bosio's eyebrows contracted spasmodically, and his white hand stroked
+his silky beard, while his eyes turned quickly from his guest and looked
+down at the carpet. In two passes, as though they had been fencing
+together, this singularly direct man had thrust him to the wall, and was
+forcing him to make a decision. Of course it was still in his power to
+answer in one way or the other, though he was yet undecided. But he
+honestly could not bring himself to say that he would marry Veronica,
+and yet, if he denied that he was betrothed to her, he must put his
+brother and Matilde in the position of having told a deliberate lie to
+Gianluca's father. He felt that he was growing confused, and that his
+hesitation and confusion were every moment making it clearer to
+Taquisara that the betrothal was by no means as yet a fact. He tried to
+temporize.
+
+"It depends upon what you understand by an engagement," he said. "With
+us, here in Naples, the betrothal means the signing of the marriage
+contract. Now, the contract has not even been discussed. I think that my
+brother's announcement was premature, though it was perhaps justifiable,
+as he wished to discourage any false expectations on the part of Don
+Gianluca."
+
+"I am not a diplomatist," answered the Sicilian. "The statement was
+categorical--that you were betrothed to Donna Veronica. For the sake of
+my friend, I am indiscreet enough to wish to hear the confirmation of
+the statement from your own lips, without in the least questioning the
+right of the Count Macomer to make it last night. Gianluca is honestly
+and very deeply in love. The happiness of his whole life is involved.
+With his delicate constitution and sensitive temper, I believe that his
+life itself is in danger. You will be doing him an honourable kindness
+in letting him know the truth, through me."
+
+"I will," said Bosio, absently, "I will--as soon as--" He checked
+himself and glanced nervously at Taquisara.
+
+"As soon as you yourself have decided," said the latter, quietly. "I
+think I understand. Your brother and the countess feel quite sure of the
+fact, as though it had already taken place, but for some reason which
+does not concern me, you yourself are not so certain of the result. To
+be plain, there is still a possibility that the marriage may not take
+place. I need not tell you that in speaking to Gianluca I shall be very
+careful not to raise any false hopes in his mind. But I am exceedingly
+indebted to you for being so honourably frank with me."
+
+Taquisara repressed a smile at his own words as he rose from his seat,
+for he was very far from wishing to offend Bosio. The latter rose, too,
+and looked at him with a dazed, uncertain expression, like a man not
+quite sure of being in his senses. He put out his hand mechanically,
+without speaking, and a moment later he was alone with the horror of his
+desperate difficulty.
+
+The Sicilian descended the stairs slowly, and paused to look out of one
+of the big windows at a landing, which offered nothing in the way of a
+view but an almost blank wall on the other side of the narrow street. He
+did not know what to do next, and yet, being eminently a man of action,
+rather than of reflexion, he knew that he must do more to satisfy
+himself, for his suspicions were aroused. He had expected to find Bosio
+jubilant. From what he had seen, he had understood well enough that
+there was some mysterious trouble. He could not hope to extort any
+information from Macomer or his wife, and he had no means of reaching
+Veronica, nor could he have asked direct questions if he had succeeded
+in seeing her.
+
+Suddenly, he thought of the young Princess Corleone, whom he knew
+tolerably well, Corleone being a Sicilian like himself. She was
+Veronica's only intimate friend. She was the niece of Cardinal
+Campodonico, one of Veronica's guardians. If any one knew the truth, she
+might be expected to know it.
+
+Taquisara looked at his watch, lit a cigar, and left the gloomy Palazzo
+Macomer, glad to be outside and to turn his face to the sunshine, and
+his back upon all the wickedness of which its old walls kept the
+secret.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+The villas along the shore towards Posilippo face the sun all day in
+winter, for they look due south from the water's edge, and their marble
+steps lead down into the tideless sea, as though it were a landlocked
+lagoon or a Swiss lake. In winter the roses blossom amongst the laurels,
+and before the rose leaves are all fallen the violets peep out in the
+borders; the broad, fan-like palms stand unsheltered in the south wind,
+and the oranges and lemons are left hanging on the trees for beauty's
+sake. There are but two changes in the year, from spring to summer, and
+from summer back to spring.
+
+It is sometimes cold in Naples, high up in the city, when the northeast
+wind comes screaming from the snowy Abruzzi, and when Vesuvius is clad
+in white almost to the lower villages. In Naples it is sometimes dreary
+when the water-laden southwest sends up its mountains of black clouds.
+But somehow in soft Posilippo the wind is tempered and the rain seems
+but a shower, and spring and summer, summer and spring, ever join hands
+amongst the ilexes and the laurels and the orange trees.
+
+On this day it was all summer, for there was not a cloud in the air nor
+a whitecap on the sea as the water gently lapped against the steps at
+the foot of Bianca Corleone's garden. It was so warm that she was
+sitting there herself, a book unread on her knees, her marvellous face
+towards the day, her small feet resting on the lower rail of another
+chair before her, just because the gravel might possibly be damp.
+
+Beside her, and turned towards her, looking earnestly to her averted
+eyes, sat Pietro Ghisleri, the man who many years afterwards married
+Lady Herbert Arden, of whom many have heard,--a man young at that time
+and not world-worn as he was later, nor prematurely gaunt and
+weather-beaten. He was only five-and-twenty years of age, then, and the
+beautiful Bianca was but twenty-one, and had already been married two
+years to Corleone. But the suffering of a lifetime had been crushed into
+those two years; for Corleone was bad, from his head to his heart, all
+through, and she had believed that she loved him.
+
+Then, half broken-hearted, she had listened to Ghisleri; and he loved
+her truly, with all his heart. Even society found little to say at that,
+and perhaps there was little enough to be said. To all intents and
+purposes, Corleone had abandoned her, and Ghisleri was often with her.
+It was not until later that her brother, Gianforte Campodonico, lifted
+up his hand against Ghisleri for the first time.
+
+So Ghisleri was sitting beside Bianca on that morning, in her garden,
+when there was a sound of wheels, behind the house; and then,
+unannounced, as one familiar with the place, Veronica Serra came swiftly
+down the walk towards the pair. Ghisleri rose to his feet,--a tall, fair
+man, sunburnt, lean and strong, with bright blue eyes,--and Bianca
+turned in her chair, with a smile, and held out her hand, as she sat, to
+the young girl.
+
+"You do not mind?" asked Veronica, smiling innocently. "Am I not
+interrupting you?"
+
+"No, dear--no." A very faint dawn of colour rose in Bianca's almost
+unnatural pallor.
+
+"Something so strange has happened," said Veronica.
+
+Then she nodded to Pietro Ghisleri, realizing that she had forgotten
+him. He moved forward for her the chair on which he had been sitting,
+while he continued to stand. Veronica had often met him there before.
+
+"Donna Veronica has something to say to you," he said to Bianca. "If you
+will allow me, I will go up to the stable and look at that dog."
+
+Bianca nodded, as though it were a matter of course that Pietro should
+look after her dogs when there was anything the matter with them, and
+Veronica sat down. Her expression was strange, Bianca thought, as
+though she did not know whether to laugh or cry. Yet she looked fresh
+and well and not tired. The girl told her story in half a dozen words,
+as soon as Ghisleri was out of hearing.
+
+"They want me to marry Bosio," she said, and then drew breath, holding
+both of Bianca's hands and looking into her eyes.
+
+"You? Marry Bosio Macomer? Oh! no--Veronica--no!"
+
+Bianca's voice expressed the greatest apprehension, for Veronica was
+almost her only intimate friend. Veronica seemed surprised.
+
+"Why not?" she asked. "That is, if I wished to. Why do you speak in that
+way? Do you know anything about him which I do not know? You must have
+some reason."
+
+Bianca's exquisite face grew calm and grave, and she looked away, and
+waited some seconds before she spoke. The sins of the earth were
+familiar to her before her time, and suffering and the payment. But
+Veronica was a child.
+
+"It seems unfitting," she said quietly. "He is almost like your uncle.
+Of course, one may marry one's uncle--but he is too old for you, dear.
+And, after all, with your name, and all you have--"
+
+"But I like Bosio," answered Veronica, simply. "He is always good to me.
+I talk with him a great deal. And he is really not old, though his hair
+is a little grey. I think I would perhaps rather have him just for a
+friend, instead of a husband. But then, he would be both. I do not know
+what to do, so I came to you for advice."
+
+"Why do you not marry Gianluca della Spina?" asked Bianca, suddenly.
+
+"Don Gianluca?" repeated Veronica, rather blankly. "Why him,
+particularly? I have only seen him three or four times."
+
+"He is dying of love for you, my dear," said Bianca. "At least, every
+one says so. I have heard it from Taquisara and from Signor Ghisleri,
+who are friends of his."
+
+"Dying of love for me?" Veronica broke out in a girlish laugh. "How
+absurd! Why does he not ask for me, if that is true? Not that I would
+ever marry him! He is like a Perugino angel, with his yellow hair and
+blue eyes."
+
+She laughed again. Bianca knew from Ghisleri that Gianluca's father had
+done his best to bring about the marriage. She was amazed to find that
+Veronica knew nothing of the negotiations.
+
+"It is very strange," she said thoughtfully, and hesitating as to how
+much she should tell of what she had heard.
+
+"What is strange?" asked the young girl.
+
+"That you should not have known about Gianluca. They go to see him every
+day. He is really madly in love with you, and is positively ill about
+it. That is why I say that you should marry him, if you marry at
+all--but not your uncle Bosio."
+
+"He is not my uncle," said Veronica. "He is my aunt's brother-in-law."
+
+"It is the same thing--"
+
+"No. It is not the same. Tell me all about Don Gianluca. It is
+interesting--I feel like a heroine in a book--a man dying for love of
+me, whom I scarcely know! It is too ridiculous! He must be in love with
+my fortune, as my aunt says that so many people are."
+
+"No, dear," said Bianca, gravely, "do not say that. It is for yourself,
+and he does not need your fortune."
+
+"I did not mean to say anything unkind," answered Veronica. "But I
+scarcely know him--and I have heard nothing about it. Have they spoken
+of the marriage?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They were interrupted by a servant, who came quickly down from the
+house. The man asked if the princess would receive Baron Taquisara.
+Bianca ordered him to be admitted, and told the man to ask Ghisleri to
+come back from the stables.
+
+"Do you know Taquisara?" she asked Veronica.
+
+"A Sicilian? With a bronze face and fiery eyes? I have seen him once or
+twice at balls, I think. Yes--he was introduced to me somewhere. I
+remember him because they say he is descended from Tancred."
+
+"Yes," said Bianca. "I could not refuse to receive him, because Signor
+Ghisleri is here. They will both go away before long, and then we can
+talk. Can you stay to breakfast with me?"
+
+"Oh, no! I should not dare to do that!" Veronica laughed a little. "No
+one knows where I am," she added. "My aunt thinks I have gone for a
+drive to think over the matter. I just pulled down the curtain of the
+brougham and told the man to bring me here--all alone."
+
+At this moment Taquisara and Ghisleri appeared on the gravel path,
+walking side by side, two men strongly contrasted with each other,
+Italians of the Lombard and the Saracen types, fine specimens both, in
+the prime of youth and strength. Bianca gave the Sicilian her hand, and
+he bowed gravely to Veronica. Ghisleri brought out more chairs, and
+without the slightest hesitation sat down beside Bianca, forcing
+Taquisara to place himself near the young girl.
+
+Taquisara was a man almost incapable of anything like social timidity,
+in whatever position he might be placed, and he was in reality delighted
+at thus being thrust upon Donna Veronica, from whom he felt sure that he
+should learn something about the projected marriage. For he had great
+and unaffected confidence in himself. But he hesitated a moment before
+he spoke, for he did not now remember that he had ever before entered
+intentionally into a serious conversation with a young girl, in the
+whole course of his life. The customs of the society in which he lived
+made such things well-nigh impossible. As usual with him, he meditated
+going straight to the matter in hand, and he only paused to consider
+what words he should use. Veronica, as she had been taught to do in such
+a position, looked vacantly before her at the roots of the trees,
+waiting for him to say something.
+
+He had not seen her, except from a distance, since Gianluca had fallen
+so madly in love with her, and while she looked away from him, his bold
+eyes scrutinized her face. He saw what she had seen, when she had looked
+into the glass on the previous evening--neither more nor less, except
+that she was dressed for walking, and something feathery was around her
+slender throat--and she wore a hat, which, in her own opinion, changed
+her appearance very much. But, as he looked, he was aware that there was
+more in her face than he had supposed.
+
+There was something in the expression which was, all at once, far more
+beautiful to him, than anything he had ever discovered in the sad and
+faultless features of the already famous beauty who sat beside her.
+Unconsciously, as he realized it, he forgot that he was expected to
+speak.
+
+Then, wondering at his silence, and conscious of his gaze, Veronica
+turned her face to his, with a shy look of girlish inquiry, and their
+eyes met. Taquisara was too dark to blush, but to his own surprise he
+felt that the blood had mounted in his face, and in Veronica's own thin,
+young cheeks there was a faint and lovely tinge which lasted but a
+moment and then faded, coming again more strongly as she turned her eyes
+away. Then he felt that he must speak. Ghisleri and Bianca, on the other
+side, had begun at once to talk, and their voices, unknown to
+themselves, had sunk to a low key.
+
+"I am very glad I have met you here, this morning, Donna Veronica," said
+Taquisara, leaning forward so as to speak close to her, but looking down
+at the gravel under his feet. "I had something especial to say to you."
+
+Veronica glanced at him, half startled. His tone and manner were quite
+different from anything she had hitherto heard and seen. She saw that he
+was not looking at her, and her eyes went back to the roots of the
+trees.
+
+"Yes," she said, almost inaudibly, for she did not know whether he
+expected her to say anything.
+
+"I have a very good friend, Donna Veronica," he continued; "I have been
+with him this morning. You have heard his name often of late, I think,
+and you know him--Gianluca della Spina."
+
+Veronica started a little, and again the colour came and went in her
+delicate face.
+
+"Yes," she said. "I--I know him a little."
+
+"He loves you, Donna Veronica," Taquisara said, his voice softening
+almost to a whisper, for he did not wish Bianca Corleone to hear him.
+"He loves you so much that he is almost dangerously ill--indeed, I think
+it is dangerous--because you will not marry him."
+
+He paused to see what she would do. She quickly turned her startled eyes
+to him, and her lips parted, but she said nothing. He raised his face
+and met her look as he went on.
+
+"Last night, his father was at your house, and he was told that there
+was no hope, because you were betrothed to Count Bosio Macomer."
+
+"They told him that?" asked Veronica, quickly, and the colour mounted a
+third time in her cheeks. "But it is not true!" she added; and her eyes
+set themselves sharply, for she was angry.
+
+"No," said Taquisara, "I know that it is not quite true, for I have been
+to see Count Bosio. I was there half an hour ago."
+
+"You have quarrelled?" asked Veronica, in sudden anxiety.
+
+"Quarrelled? no. Why should we quarrel? He gave me to understand that
+nothing was settled. I thanked him, and came away. I did not hope to see
+you; but I knew that the Princess Corleone was your best friend, as I
+am Gianluca's. I thought I would speak to her. Since, by a miracle, we
+have met, I have spoken directly to you. Do you forgive me? I hope so,
+though I daresay that no mere acquaintance has ever talked as I am
+talking. If you blame me, remember that it is for Gianluca, that he is
+my friend, that he knows nothing of my speaking to you, since you and I
+have met by chance, and that he is perhaps dying--dying for you, Donna
+Veronica."
+
+The girl's face was white and grave now, for Taquisara spoke in earnest.
+
+"How dreadful!" she exclaimed.
+
+Bianca turned her head, for she was not so much absorbed in her
+conversation with Ghisleri as not to have noticed that Veronica and
+Taquisara were speaking almost in whispers, which was strange conduct
+for a young girl with a mere acquaintance, to say the least of it.
+
+"What is so dreadful?" she asked, with a smile.
+
+"Oh!--nothing," answered Veronica, glancing at her, and turning back
+instantly to Taquisara.
+
+A shade of annoyance was in his face, and Veronica felt suddenly that
+this was the first real crisis in her life, and that she must hear all
+he had to say, to the end, at any cost of propriety.
+
+"Come!" she said to Taquisara.
+
+She rose as calmly as a married woman, many years older than she, might
+have done, and Taquisara was on his feet at the same moment. She led
+the way down to the marble steps that descended to the sea, and stood on
+the uppermost one, looking out. Bianca and Ghisleri watched her in
+surprise and Bianca made a slight movement, as though to follow, but
+then leaned back again. There was then, and still is, a very strong
+feeling in Southern Italy against allowing a young girl to be out of
+earshot with a man.
+
+Though Bianca and Veronica had been children, together, and there was
+little difference of age between them, Bianca felt that, as the married
+woman, she was responsible for the observance of social custom. But in a
+moment she realized that Taquisara was talking of Gianluca, and that
+anything would be better than to allow Veronica to marry Bosio Macomer.
+
+"I understand," she said to Ghisleri; "let them alone. It is better, so
+long as only you and I see it."
+
+Down by the steps, Veronica stood very still, looking out over the blue
+water, and Taquisara was beside her. She waited for him to speak again,
+sure that he had not said all.
+
+"Such things seem improbable in these days," he said quietly. "You say
+that it is dreadful. It is. I have seen it, and have been with him day
+after day. I am not very sensitive, as a rule, but I have had a strange
+impression which I shall never forget. Gianluca and I met when we were
+serving our time as volunteers. He was unlike the rest of us, even then.
+That was why we became friends--because he was unlike me, I suppose."
+
+"Unlike--in what way?" asked Veronica, still looking at the sea.
+
+"It is hard to explain. He is a man of ideals, a religious man, a good
+man." Taquisara smiled gravely. "That was enough to make him quite
+different from us all, was it not?"
+
+"I do not know," said the young girl. "Are all men bad, as a rule?"
+
+"Perhaps," answered the Sicilian, shortly. "At all events, Gianluca was
+not. One saw that all the little that was bad in his life was only a
+jest, while all the much that was good was real and true."
+
+"You are indeed his friend," said Veronica, softly.
+
+She was struck by the beauty of what the man had said so plainly and
+unaffectedly.
+
+"Yes, I am his friend," replied Taquisara. "One of his friends,
+say,--for he has many. I am his friend as you are the friend of Donna
+Bianca. You understand that, do you not? And you understand that there
+is nothing you would not do for a friend? Not out of mere obligation,
+because your friend has done much for you, but just for
+friendship--love, if you choose to call it so. I have heard people speak
+eloquently of friendship--so have you perhaps. And we both understand
+what it means, though many do not. That is why I speak as I do, and if I
+do not speak well, you must forgive me, and feel the meaning I cannot
+express to your ears. Gianluca loves you, Donna Veronica, as men very
+rarely love women, so immensely, so strongly, that his love is burning
+up his life in him--and it has all been kept from you for some reason or
+other, while your relations are doing their best to make you marry Bosio
+Macomer, who can no more be compared with Gianluca della Spina than--"
+
+He checked himself, for he felt that his tone was contemptuous, and
+remembered that Veronica might perhaps like Bosio. She was listening,
+her eyes fixed on the distance, her mind wide open to the new experience
+of life which had come so unexpectedly.
+
+"He cannot be compared with Gianluca," continued Taquisara, modifying
+his sentence and omitting whatever simile had presented itself in his
+thoughts. "If you knew Gianluca, you would understand. It is because I
+know him well that I speak for him, that I implore you, pray you,
+beseech you, to see him before you consent to marry Count Bosio--"
+
+"To see him!" exclaimed Veronica, startled at the sudden proposition,
+which was a blow to every tradition she had ever learned.
+
+But the Sicilian was not a man to hesitate at trifles where women were
+concerned, nor men either.
+
+"Yes--to see him!" he answered with a certain vehemence. "Is it a sin?
+Is it a crime? Is it dishonourable? Why should you cry out? What is
+society that it should take you young girls by the throat, like martyrs,
+and chain you with proprieties to the stake of its rigid law--to be
+burnt to death afterwards by slow fire, like your best friend there,
+Donna Bianca? Ah--you understand that. You know her life, and I know it
+too. It is the life--or the death--to which you may look forward if you
+will neither open your eyes to see, nor raise your hand to guard
+yourself. And you cry out in outraged horror at the idea of seeing
+Gianluca della Spina here, in this garden, by these steps, under God's
+sunlight, as you see me here to-day by accident. It seems to you--what
+shall I say?--unladylike!" Taquisara laughed scornfully. "What does it
+matter whether you are unladylike or not, so long as you are womanly,
+and kind, and brave? I am telling you truths you have never heard, but
+you have a woman's right to hear them, whatever you may think of me. And
+I speak for another. I have the holy right to say for him, for his life,
+for his happiness, all that I would not say for myself, perhaps. And I
+do say, what is to prevent Gianluca from being here to-morrow, or this
+very afternoon, as I am here now, and why should it be such a dreadful
+thing for you to come here, knowing that you will meet him? Do you think
+that he would not give the last drop of his blood, at one word from your
+lips, to save you from trouble, or danger, or insult? Do you think, if
+he knew how I am speaking to you--speaking roughly, perhaps, because I
+am rough--he would not turn upon me, his friend, who am fighting for his
+life, and quarrel with me, and disown me, because my roughness comes
+near you and may offend you? You do not know him. How should you? But
+because you do not know him and cannot guess how he loves you, do not
+throw his life away without seeing it, without understanding what you
+despise, and learning that it is far above your contempt--a noble life,
+an honest life, a true-hearted young life, which may be lived out for
+you only--and, for you, I think it would be worth living."
+
+Taquisara was a man who could be in earnest for his friend, and there
+was a strong vibration in his low voice which few could have heard with
+indifference. While he was speaking and forcing the appeal of his honest
+black eyes upon Veronica's face, she could not help slowly turning to
+meet them, and her lips parted a little as though in wonder, while she
+drank in eagerly the words he spoke. It was the first time in her life
+that she had ever heard a man speak to her of love, and, in his rough
+eloquence, he spoke well and strongly, though it was not for himself. In
+his own cause, the words might not have come so readily, but they were
+not now the less evidently sincere, because they were many. She was glad
+that she had boldly risen, and left Bianca's side, in order to hear him.
+But when he paused, she scarcely knew what to answer. She wanted to hear
+more. It was as though a dawn were rising, high and clear, in the dim
+country through which childhood had led her, and she longed suddenly for
+the full light of broad day.
+
+"Indeed, you speak as though you loved him," she said.
+
+"Yes, but I am trying to tell you how he loves you, and I cannot, though
+I know it all. You must hear it for yourself, you must see him, you must
+know him--"
+
+"But it is impossible--" Veronica's protest broke off rather weakly in
+the middle.
+
+"It is impossible that you should be here to-morrow at this hour?
+Perhaps--I do not know. But to-morrow at this hour Gianluca will be
+here, though he has not been able to leave the house for a week; and if
+you come, all the impossibility is gone. It is as simple as that--"
+
+"That is an appointment--with a man--"
+
+Again the blood rushed to the young girl's face but this time it was
+genuine shame of doing a thing which she had been taught to think the
+most dreadful in the whole world.
+
+"An appointment!" Taquisara laughed contemptuously. "Do you not come
+often to see the Princess Corleone? You will come again. And Gianluca
+will come often, too--and if you chance to meet to-morrow, it will be an
+accident of fate, that is all, as you chanced to see me here to-day. You
+cannot forbid him to come here. You cannot, without a reason, ask Donna
+Bianca to refuse to receive him--"
+
+"Oh!--if she ever guessed--" Veronica checked herself, still blushing,
+but Taquisara was too sincerely in earnest to smile at the slip she had
+made.
+
+"That is all," he said. "There is neither appointment, nor engagement,
+nor anything but the possibility of a meeting which you cannot be sure
+of avoiding, unless you never come to see your friend, or unless you
+give her some unjust reason for not letting him come, in case he calls.
+There is nothing but chance. How can I tell whether you will come
+to-morrow, or not? I shall perhaps never know, for I shall not come with
+him. I have been here to-day--what excuse could I give for calling again
+to-morrow? Donna Bianca would think it strange. I can hope, for his
+sake. I can tell you that no woman has the right to throw away such love
+as his, to ruin such a life as his, to break such a heart without a
+thought and without so much as hearing the man speak--whatever this
+wretched society in which we live may say about proprieties and rights
+and wrongs, and the difference between the proper behaviour for young
+girls and married women. This is God's earth, Donna Veronica--not
+society's!"
+
+Veronica said nothing; but there was perplexity in her face, and she
+looked down, and pulled at one finger of her glove. She was wondering
+whether, if she came on the next day, and stood with Gianluca della
+Spina on that very spot, he would speak for himself as strongly and well
+as his friend had been speaking for him.
+
+Somehow, she doubted it, and somehow, too, she knew that if by magic
+Taquisara should all at once turn out to be the real Gianluca,--not the
+Gianluca she knew,--she should be better satisfied with the world. For
+as things seemed just then, she was not satisfied at all, and the future
+was more dim and uncertain than ever. Still she looked down, thinking,
+and Taquisara glanced at her occasionally, and respected her silence.
+
+"You do not know Bosio Macomer," she said, at last. "Or you know him
+little. If you chanced to be his friend, instead of Don Gianluca's, you
+could speak as eloquently for him."
+
+"I think not," answered Taquisara. And his lip curled a little, though
+she did not see the expression.
+
+"Why not? You do not know him. How can you tell? A little while ago, you
+said that he was not to be compared to your friend. How can you be so
+sure? Everything is not written in men's faces."
+
+"I judge as I can, from what I see and know."
+
+"So do I."
+
+"From seeing and knowing the one and not the other. That is it. All I
+ask is that you will wait until you know both, before you make up your
+mind--a week--no more, if you can spare no more. It is not for me to
+tell you what your rights are, that you are not in the position of the
+average young girl, just from the convent, who accepts the choice her
+father and mother make for her--because, perhaps, she may never have
+another; and, at all events, because she cannot choose. You have the
+world to choose from, and--forgive me for saying it--you have no one to
+choose for you but those who are interested in the choice. May I speak?"
+
+She hesitated, and their eyes met for a moment.
+
+"Yes," she said suddenly.
+
+"Count Bosio may be the best of men. I do not know. But he is the
+middle-aged, younger brother of Count Macomer, with a very slender
+fortune of his own and a position no better than the rest of us. If he
+marries you, he becomes Prince of Acireale, a Prince of the Holy Roman
+Empire, a Grandee of Spain of the First Class--and many times a
+millionnaire. For you have all that to give the man you marry. Grant
+that he is the best of men. Is his brother wholly disinterested? I speak
+plainly. It is rumoured that Count Macomer has lost most of his fortune
+in speculations. I do not know whether that is true. Even if it is not,
+what was all his fortune compared to what it would mean to him if his
+brother held yours?"
+
+"My uncle never speculated in his life!" answered Veronica, rather
+indignantly.
+
+"Grant that. The other side remains. And the countess? Is she wholly
+disinterested? Has she been disappointed by the marriage she made, or
+not? She was born a Serra, like yourself, and she married Macomer in the
+days of the old court, when he was a favourite with the old king and had
+a brilliant position, and people said that he might be one of the first
+men in the kingdom. But Garibaldi swept all that away, and Macomer's
+chances with it, and the countess is a disappointed woman, for her
+husband has remained just what he always was--plain Count Macomer, with
+his name and his palace, neither of them extraordinary. Truly, Donna
+Veronica, though you may refuse to speak to me again for what I say, I
+will dare to tell you that you must be very unsuspicious! They conceal
+from you the honourable offer of such a man as Gianluca della Spina, the
+eldest son of a great old house, and they announce your betrothal with
+Count Bosio before either you or he know of it. One need not be very
+distrustful to think all that strange--even granting that Count Bosio is
+the best of men, a matter of which you are a judge."
+
+"I would rather that you should not say those things to me," said
+Veronica, a little pale, and turning half round as though she would go
+back to Bianca and Ghisleri.
+
+"Forgive me--for I have risked such opinion of me as you may have, to
+say them. There may be reasonable doubt about them. But of the
+rest--there is no doubt. There is a man's life in it, and death is
+beyond doubts, and a love that can take a man and tear him and hurt him
+until he dies has a right to a woman's hearing--and to her
+charity--before she throws it away. I ask no forgiveness of you for
+saying that. Gianluca will come to-morrow at this time, and he will come
+again until he sees you. I have kept you too long, Donna Veronica, and
+you have been kind in listening to me. If you need service in your life,
+use mine."
+
+She said nothing, but gravely inclined her head a little when she had
+once more looked into his eyes, before she turned towards Bianca and
+walked slowly up the short, broad path by his side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Bosio felt that if he remained in his room alone with the horror of his
+position, he should go mad before night. He was weakly resolved not to
+marry Veronica, but he knew and for the first time dreaded the power
+Matilde had over his thoughts as well as his actions. He felt that if he
+could avoid her, he could still cling to the remnant of honour, but that
+she would tear it from him if she could and cast it to the winds. The
+whole card-house of his ill-founded life was trembling under the breath
+of fate, and its near fall seemed to threaten its existence.
+
+He went out and walked slowly through sunny, unfrequented places, high
+up in the city, trying to shake off the chill of his fear as a man hopes
+to rid himself of an ague by sitting in the sun. But the chill was in
+his heart, and it was his soul that shivered. He weakly wished that he
+were wholly bad, that he might feel less.
+
+Then, in true Italian humour, he tried to think of something which might
+divert his thoughts from the duty of facing their own terrible
+perplexity. If it had been evening, he would have strolled into the
+theatre; had it been already afternoon, he would have had himself driven
+out along the public garden towards Posilippo, to see the faces of his
+friends go by. But it was morning. There was nothing but the club, and
+he cared little for the men he might meet there. There was nothing to
+do, and his eyes did not help him to forget his troubles. He wandered on
+through ways broad and narrow, climbing up one steep lane and descending
+again by the next, hardly aware of direction and not noticing whether he
+went east or west, north or south, up or down.
+
+At last, at a corner, he chanced to read the name of a street. It was
+familiar enough to him, as a Neapolitan, but just now it reminded him of
+something which might possibly help to distract his attention. He
+stopped and got out his pocket-book, and found in it a card, glanced at
+the address on it, and then once more at the name of the street. Then he
+went on till he came to the right number, entered a gloomy doorway,
+black with dampness and foul air, ascended four flights of dark stone
+steps, and stopped before a small brown door. The card nailed upon it
+was like the one he had in his pocket-book. The name was 'Giuditta
+Astarita,' and under it, in another character, was printed the word
+'Somnambulist.'
+
+There was nothing at all unnatural in the name or the profession, in
+Naples, where somnambulists are plentiful enough. And the name itself
+was a Neapolitan one, and by no means uncommon. The card, however, was
+white and clean, which argued either that Giuditta Astarita had not long
+been a professional clairvoyante, or else that she had recently changed
+her lodgings. Bosio knew nothing about her, except that she had suddenly
+acquired an extraordinary reputation as a seer, and that many people in
+society had lately visited her, and had come away full of extraordinary
+stories about her power. He rang the little tinkling bell, which was
+answered by a very respectably dressed woman servant with only one
+eye,--a fact which Bosio noticed because it was the blind side of her
+face which first appeared as the door opened.
+
+The Signora Giuditta Astarita was at home, and there was no other
+visitor. Bosio, without giving his name, was ushered into a small
+sitting-room, of which the only window opened upon a narrow court
+opposite a blank wall. The furniture was scant and stiff, and such of it
+as was upholstered was covered with a cheap cotton corded material of a
+spurious wine colour. There were small square antimacassars on the
+chairs, and two of them, side by side, on the back of the sofa. The
+single window had heavy curtains, now drawn aside, but evidently capable
+of shutting out all light. A solid, square, walnut table stood before
+the sofa, without any table-cloth, and upon it were arranged half a
+dozen large books, bound with a good deal of gilding, and which looked
+as though they had never been opened.
+
+Bosio was standing before the window, looking out at the blank wall,
+when he heard some one enter the room and softly close the door.
+Giuditta Astarita came forward as he turned round.
+
+He saw a heavy, phlegmatic woman, still very young, though abnormally
+stout, with an unhealthy face, thin black hair and large weak eyes of a
+light china blue. Her lips were parted in a sort of chronic sad smile,
+which showed uneven and discoloured teeth. She wore a long trailing
+garment of heavy black silk, not gathered to the figure at the waist,
+but loose from the shoulders down, and buttoned from throat to feet in
+front, with small buttons, like a cassock. From one of the upper
+buttonholes dangled a thin gold chain, supporting a bunch of small
+charms against the evil eye, a little coral horn, a tiny silver
+hunchback, a miniature gilt bell, and two or three coins of gold and
+silver, besides an Egyptian scarabee in a gold setting. The woman
+remained standing before Bosio.
+
+"You wish to consult me, Signore?" she inquired, in a professional tone,
+through the chronic smile, as it were. Her voice was very hoarse.
+
+Bosio bowed gravely, whereupon she pointed to a chair for him, drew
+another into position for herself, opposite his, and at some distance
+from it, and then fumbled in the curtains for the cord that pulled
+them.
+
+"If you will sit down," she said, "I will darken the room."
+
+Bosio seated himself, and in a moment the light was shut out as the
+heavy curtains ran together. Then he heard the rustle of the woman's
+silk dress as she sat down opposite to him in the dark. He felt
+unaccountably nervous, and her china blue eyes had made a disagreeable
+impression upon him. He expected something to happen.
+
+"I see a name over your head," said a clear, bell-like voice, certainly
+not Giuditta Astarita's. "It is Veronica."
+
+Bosio started uneasily, though like most Neapolitans, he had visited
+somnambulists more than once.
+
+"Who is speaking?" he asked quickly.
+
+"It is the spirit," said the woman's hoarse tones. "That is his voice.
+Is there such a person as Veronica in your life? Is it about her that
+you wish to consult the spirits?"
+
+"Yes," said the spirit voice, before Bosio could answer. "You are afraid
+that they will murder her, if you do not marry her--or if she will not
+marry you."
+
+Bosio uttered a loud exclamation of alarm and astonishment, for this was
+altogether beyond anything in his experience.
+
+"Is it so?" asked Giuditta Astarita.
+
+"Yes. It is true," said Bosio, in uncertain tones. "And I wish to
+know--whether--" he stopped.
+
+"Whether the grey-faced man and the handsome woman whose eyes are near
+together will really kill her?" asked the spirit voice.
+
+Bosio felt his soft hair rising on his head. "Do you know who I am?" he
+asked nervously.
+
+"No," replied the voice of Giuditta. "The spirits know everything, but I
+do not. They only speak through me with another voice. I do not know
+what they are going to say. You need have no apprehension. This is more
+sacred than the confessional, Signore, more secret than the tomb."
+
+The phrase sounded as though it had been carefully studied and often
+repeated, but the dramatic tone in which it was uttered produced a
+certain reassuring effect upon Bosio, in his half-frightened state.
+
+"Do you wish to tell whether they will really kill Veronica?" inquired
+Giuditta. "If you have any question to ask, you must put it quickly. I
+cannot keep the spirits waiting. They exhaust me when they are
+impatient."
+
+"What shall I do to avoid marrying her?" asked Bosio, suddenly springing
+to the main point of his doubts.
+
+"The handsome woman whose eyes are near together will make you marry
+Veronica," said the spirit voice.
+
+"But if I refuse? If I say that I will not? What then? Is her life
+really in danger?"
+
+"Yes. They wish to kill her to get her money. The handsome woman has her
+will leaving her everything if she dies."
+
+"But will they really kill her?" insisted Bosio, half breathless in his
+fear and nervous excitement.
+
+The spirit voice did not answer. In the silence Bosio heard Giuditta
+Astarita's breathing opposite to him.
+
+"Will they really kill her?" he asked again.
+
+Still there was silence, and Bosio held his breath. Then Giuditta spoke
+hoarsely.
+
+"The spirit is gone," she said. "He will not answer any more questions
+to-day."
+
+"Can you not call it back?" asked Bosio, anxiously, and peering into the
+blackness before him, as though hoping to see something.
+
+"No. When he is gone he never comes back for the same person. He
+answered you many things, Signore. You must have patience."
+
+He heard her rise, and a moment later the light dazzled him as he looked
+up and met her china blue eyes. He was dazed as well as dazzled, for
+there had been an extraordinary directness and accuracy about the few
+questions and answers he had heard in the clear voice which was so
+utterly unlike Giuditta's, though quite human and natural. He was
+certain that he had not heard the door open after she had drawn the
+curtains. He looked about the scantily furnished room, in search of
+some corner in which some third person might have been hidden. Giuditta
+Astarita's chronic smile was momentarily intensified.
+
+"There was no one else here," she said, answering his unspoken question.
+"You heard the spirit's voice through my ears."
+
+"How can that be?"
+
+"I do not know. But what the spirit says is true. You may rely upon it.
+I do not know what it said, for when I return from the trance state I
+remember nothing I have heard or seen while I have been in it. If you
+wish to ask more, you must have the kindness to come again. It is very
+fatiguing to me. You can see that I am not in good health. The hours are
+from ten till three."
+
+The smile had subsided within its usual limits, and the china blue eyes
+stared coldly. She was evidently waiting to be paid.
+
+"What do I owe you?" asked Bosio, with a certain considerateness of
+tone, so to say.
+
+"It is twenty-five lire," answered Giuditta Astarita. "I have but one
+price. Thank you," she added, as he laid the notes upon the polished
+walnut table. "Do you wish a few of my cards? For your friends, perhaps.
+I shall be grateful for your patronage."
+
+"Thank you," said Bosio, taking his hat and going towards the door. "I
+have one of your cards. It is enough. Good morning."
+
+As he opened the door, he found the one-eyed serving-woman in the
+passage, ready to show him out. Instinctively he looked at the single
+eye as he glanced at her face, and he was surprised to notice that it
+was of the same uncommon china blue colour as Giuditta's own. The woman
+who did duty as a servant to admit visitors was undoubtedly Giuditta's
+mother or elder sister, or some very near relative. It would be natural
+enough, amongst such people, as Bosio knew, but he wondered how many
+more of the same family lived in the rooms beyond the one in which he
+had received spirit-communications, and whether Giuditta Astarita
+supported them all by her extraordinary talents.
+
+He descended the damp stone stairs and passed out into the street again,
+dazed and disturbed in mind. He had been to such people before, as has
+been said, and he had generally seen or heard something which had either
+interested or amused him. He had never had such an experience as this.
+He had never heard a voice of which he had been so certain that it did
+not come from any one in the room, and he had never found any
+somnambulist who had so instantly grasped his most secret thoughts,
+without the slightest assistance or leading word from himself. Yet at
+the crucial test--the question of a certainty in the future, this one
+had stopped short as all stopped, or failed in their predictions of what
+was to come. He had been startled and almost frightened. Like many
+Southern Italians, he was at once credulous and sceptical--a
+superstitious unbeliever, if one may couple the two words into one
+expression. His intelligence bade him deny what his temperament inclined
+him to accept. Besides, on the present occasion, no theory which he
+could form could account for the woman's knowledge of his life. She had
+never seen him. He had no extraordinary peculiarity by which she might
+have recognized him at first sight from hearsay, nor was he in any way
+connected with public affairs. He had come quite unexpectedly and had
+not given his name, and the spirit, or whatever it might be, had
+instantly told him of Veronica, of her danger, of his brother and
+sister-in-law and of the will. Moreover, the friends who had spoken to
+him of Giuditta Astarita had told him similar tales within a few days.
+
+The spirit had said that the handsome woman would make him marry
+Veronica. But what had the silence meant, when he had asked more? That
+was the question. Did it mean that the spirit was unwilling to affirm
+that Veronica must die if he refused to marry her? He passed his hand
+over his eyes as he walked. This was the end of the nineteenth century;
+he was in Naples, in the largest city of an enlightened country. And
+yet, the situation might have been taken from the times of the Medici,
+of Paolo Giordano Orsini, of Beatrice Cenci, of the Borgia. There was a
+frightful incongruity between civilization and his life--between broad,
+flat, comfortable, every-day, police-regulated civilization, and the
+hideous drama in which he was suddenly a principal actor.
+
+More than once he told himself that he was mistaken and that such things
+could not possibly be; that it was all a feverish dream and that he
+should soon wake to see that there was a perfectly simple, natural and
+undramatic solution before him. But turn the facts as he would, he could
+not find that easy way. If he refused to marry Veronica and attempted to
+get legal protection for her, the inevitable result would be the
+prosecution, conviction, and utter ruin of his brother and of the woman
+he loved. If he refused to marry Veronica and did nothing to protect
+her, Matilde's eyes had told him what Matilde would do to escape public
+shame and open infamy. If he married Veronica and saved his brother--he
+was still man enough to feel that he could not do that. He could die.
+That was a possibility of which he had thought. But would his death,
+which would save him from committing the last and greatest baseness,
+save Veronica? She would have one friend less in the world, and she had
+not many.
+
+With a half-childish smile on his pale face, he wondered what such a man
+as Taquisara would do, if he were so placed, and the Sicilian's manly
+face and bold eyes rose up contemptuously before him. To such a depth
+as Bosio had already reached, Taquisara could never have fallen. Bosio's
+instinct told him that.
+
+If he had been able to find one friend in all his acquaintance to whom
+he might turn and ask advice, it would have been an infinite relief. But
+such friends were rare, he knew, and he had never made one. Pleasant
+acquaintances he had, by the score and the hundred, in society, and
+amongst artists and men of letters. But the life he had led had shut out
+friendship. To have a friend would have been to let some one into his
+life, and that would have meant, sooner or later, the betrayal of the
+woman he loved.
+
+Yet, though he felt that Taquisara was his enemy and not his friend, he
+had such sudden confidence in the man's honour and truth that he was
+insanely impelled to go to him and tell him all, and implore him to save
+Veronica at any cost, no matter what, or to whom. Then of course, a
+moment later, the thought seemed madness, and he only felt that he was
+losing hold more quickly upon his saner sense. His visit to the
+somnambulist, too, had helped to unnerve him, and as he wandered through
+the streets he forgot that it was time to eat, so that physical
+faintness came upon him unawares and suddenly.
+
+He did not wish to go home; for if he did, the final decision would be
+thrust upon him by Matilde, and he did not feel that he could face
+another scene with her yet. When he found himself near the Palazzo
+Macomer, he turned back, walking slowly, and went towards the sea, till
+he came to the vast Piazza San Ferdinando, beyond San Carlo. He went
+into a cafe and sat down in a corner to drink a cup of chocolate by way
+of luncheon. The seat he had chosen was at the end of one of the long
+red velvet divans close to a big window looking upon the square. There
+were little marble tables in a row, and at the one before that which
+Bosio chose, a priest was seated, reading, with an empty cup before him.
+He was evidently near-sighted, for he held his newspaper so near his
+eyes that Bosio could not have seen his face even had he thought of
+looking at it. The priest had thrown back his heavy black cloak after he
+had sat down, so that it fell in wide folds upon the seat, on each side
+of him. His hands, which held up the paper, while he seemed to be
+searching for something in the columns, were thin to emaciation, almost
+transparent, and very carefully kept,--a fact which might have argued
+that he was not an ordinary, hard-working parish priest of the people,
+even if his presence in a fashionable cafe had not of itself made that
+seem improbable. On the other hand, he wore heavy, coarse shoes; his
+clothes, though well brushed, were visibly threadbare, and his clean
+white stock was frayed at the edge and almost worn out. He had taken off
+his three-cornered hat, and his high peaked head was barely covered with
+scanty silver-grey hair. When he dropped his paper and looked about him
+for the waiter, evidently wishing to pay for his coffee, he showed a
+face sufficiently remarkable to deserve description. The prominent
+feature was the enormous, beak-like nose--the nose of the fanatic which
+is not to be mistaken amongst thousands, with its high, arching bridge,
+its wide, sensitive nostrils, and its preternaturally sharp,
+down-turning point. But the rest of the priest's face was not in keeping
+with what was most striking in it. The forehead was not powerful,
+narrow, prominent--but rather, broad and imaginative. The chin was round
+and not enough developed; the clean-shaven lips had a singularly gentle
+expression, and the very near-sighted blue eyes were not set deeply
+enough to give strength to the look. The priest carried his head
+somewhat bent and forward, in a sort of deprecating way, which made his
+long nose seem longer, and his short chin more retreating. The skull was
+unusually high and peaked at the point where phrenologists place the
+organ of veneration. The man himself was tall and exceedingly thin, and
+looked as though he fasted too often and too long. He was certainly a
+very ugly man, judged according to the standards of human beauty; and
+yet there was about him an air of kindness and sincerity which had in it
+something almost saintly, together with a very unmistakable individual
+identity. He was one of those men whom one can neither forget nor
+mistake when one has met them once. Bosio did not notice him, being much
+absorbed by his own thoughts. The waiter came to ask what he wished, and
+was stopped on his way back by the priest, who desired to pay for what
+he had taken. But Bosio had turned to the window again, and sat looking
+out and watching the people in the broad semicircular Piazza.
+
+The priest, having paid his little score, carefully folded his newspaper
+and put it into the wide pocket of his cassock. Then he gathered up the
+collar of his big cloak behind him, as he sat, and began to edge his way
+out from behind the little marble table. But the long folds had fallen
+far on each side--so far that Bosio had unawares sat down upon the
+cloth, and as the priest tried to get out, he felt the cloak being
+dragged from under him. The priest stopped and turned, just as Bosio
+rose with an apology on his lips, which became an exclamation of
+surprise, as he began to speak.
+
+"Don Teodoro!" he cried. "You were next to me, and I did not see you!"
+
+The priest's eyelids contracted to help his imperfect sight, and he
+smiled as he moved nearer to Bosio.
+
+"Bosio!" he exclaimed, when he had recognized him. "I am almost blind,
+but I was sure I knew your voice."
+
+"You are in Naples, and you have not let me know it?" said Bosio,
+reproachfully and interrogatively.
+
+"I have not been in Naples two hours, and have just left my bag at my
+usual quarters with Don Matteo. Then I came here to get a cup of coffee,
+and now I was going to you. Besides, it is the tenth of December. You
+know that I always come on the tenth every year, and stay until the
+twentieth, in order to be back in Muro four days before Christmas. But I
+am glad I have met you here, for I should have missed you at the
+Palazzo."
+
+"Yes," said Bosio, "I am glad that we have met. Sit with me, now, while
+I drink a cup of chocolate. Then we will do whatever you wish." He sat
+down again. "I am glad you have come, Don Teodoro," he added
+thoughtfully. "I am very glad you have come."
+
+Don Teodoro produced a pair of silver spectacles as he reseated himself,
+and proceeded to settle them very carefully on his enormous nose. Then
+he turned to Bosio, and looked at him.
+
+"Have you been ill?" he asked, after a careful scrutiny of the pallid,
+nervous face.
+
+"No." Bosio looked out of the window, avoiding the other's gaze. "I am
+nervous to-day. I slept badly; and I have been walking, and have not
+breakfasted. Oh! no--I am not ill. I am never ill. I have excellent
+health. And you?" He turned to his companion again. "How are you? Always
+the same?"
+
+"Always the same," answered the priest. "I grow old, that is the only
+change. After all, it is not a bad one, since we must change in some
+way. It is better than growing young--better than growing young again,"
+he repeated, shaking his head sadly. "Since the payment must be made, it
+is better that the day of reckoning should come nearer, year by year."
+
+"For me it has come," said Bosio, in a low voice, and his chin sank upon
+his breast, as he leaned back, clasping his hands before him on the edge
+of the marble table. The priest looked at him anxiously and in silence.
+The two would certainly have met later in the day, or on the morrow, and
+the accident of their meeting at the cafe had only brought them together
+a few hours earlier. For the hard-working country parish priest came
+yearly to Naples for a few days before Christmas, as he had said, and
+the first visit he made, after depositing his slender luggage at the
+house of the ecclesiastic with whom he always stopped, was to Bosio
+Macomer, his old pupil.
+
+In his loneliness, that morning, Bosio had thought of Don Teodoro and
+had wished to see him. It had occurred vaguely to him that the priest
+generally made a visit to the city about that time of the year, but he
+had never realized that Don Teodoro always arrived on the same day, the
+tenth of December, and had done so unfailingly for many years past.
+
+Before he had been curate of the distant village of Muro, which belonged
+to the Serra family, Don Teodoro had been tutor to Bosio Macomer. He had
+lived in Naples as a priest at large, a student, and in those days, to
+some extent, a man of the world. When Bosio was grown up, his tutor had
+remained his friend--the only really intimate friend he had in the
+world, and a true and devoted one. It was perhaps because he was too
+much attached to Bosio that Matilde Macomer had induced him at last to
+accept the parish in the mountains with the chaplaincy of the ancestral
+castle of the Serra,--an office which was a total sinecure, as the
+family had rarely gone thither to spend a few weeks, even in the days of
+the late prince. Matilde hated the place for its appalling gloominess
+and wild scenery, and Veronica, to whom it now belonged, had never seen
+it at all. It had the reputation of being haunted by all manner of
+ghosts and goblins, and during the first ten years following the Italian
+annexation of Naples, the surrounding mountains had been infested by
+outlaws and brigands. But Don Teodoro, as curate and chaplain, received
+a considerable stipend which enabled him to procure for himself books at
+his pleasure, when he could bring himself to curtail the daily and
+yearly charities in which he spent almost all he received.
+
+He was, indeed, a man torn between two inclinations which almost
+amounted to passions,--charity and the love of learning,--and their
+action was so evenly balanced that it was a real pain to him either to
+deny himself the book he coveted, or to forfeit the pleasure of giving
+the money it would cost to the poor. He had sometimes kept the last note
+he had left at the end of the month for many days, quite unable to
+decide whether he should send it to Naples for a new volume, or buy
+clothes with it for some half-clad child. So sincere was he in both
+longings, that after he had disposed of the money in one way or the
+other, he almost invariably had an acute fit of self-reproach. His
+common sense alone told him that when he had given away nine-tenths of
+all he received, he had the right to spend the other tenth upon such
+food for his mind as was almost more indispensable to him than bread.
+But, besides this, he had been engaged for twenty years upon a history
+of the Church, in compiling which he believed he was doing a work of the
+highest importance to mankind; so that it appeared to him a duty to
+expend, from time to time, a certain amount of money in order to procure
+such books, old and new, as were necessary for his studies. As a matter
+of fact, the seasons themselves decided his conduct in these
+difficulties; for in cold weather, or times of scarcity, his charity
+outran his desire for books; whereas, in the warm weather, and when
+there was plenty, and no pitiful starved faces gathered about his door,
+he bought books, instead of searching for the few who were still in
+need.
+
+In his youth, Don Teodoro had travelled much. He had accompanied a
+mission to Africa at the beginning of his life, and had afterwards
+wandered about Europe, being at that time, as yet, more studious than
+charitable, and possessed of a small independence left him by his
+father, who had been an officer in the Neapolitan army in the old days.
+He had seen many things and known many men of many nations, before he
+had at last settled in Muro, in the little priest's house, under the
+shadow of the dismal castle, and close to the church. There he lived
+now, all the year round, excepting the ten days which he annually spent
+in Naples. The little house was full of books, and there was a big, old
+shaky press, containing his manuscripts, the work of his whole life. He
+had neither friends nor companions of his own class, but he was beloved
+by all the people. Playing on his name, Teodoro, in their dialect, they
+called him, O prevete d'oro'--'the priest of gold.' And many said that
+he had performed miracles, when he had fasted in Lent.
+
+This was practically Bosio Macomer's only intimate friend. For although
+the intimacy had been interrupted for years, by circumstances, it had
+never been checked by any action or word of either. It is true that
+neither was, as a rule, in need of friendship, nor desirous of
+cultivating it. Learning and charity absorbed the priest's whole life.
+Bosio's existence, of which Don Teodoro knew in reality nothing, had
+moved in the vicious circle of a single passion, which he could never
+acknowledge, and which excluded, for common caution's sake, anything
+like intimacy with other men. But Bosio had not ceased to look upon the
+priest as the best man he had ever known, and in spite of his own
+errings, he was still quite able to appreciate goodness in others; and
+Don Teodoro had always remembered his pupil as one of the few men to
+whom he had been accustomed to speak freely of his hopes, and
+sympathies, and aspirations, feeling sure of appreciation from a nature
+at once refined and reticent, though itself hard to understand. For Don
+Teodoro was, strange to say, painfully sensitive to ridicule, though in
+all other respects a singularly brave man, morally and physically. As a
+child or as a boy, he had been laughed at by his companions for his
+extraordinary nose and his short sight; and he had never recovered from
+the childish suffering thus inflicted upon him by thoughtless children.
+The fear of being ridiculous had largely influenced him through life,
+and had really contributed much towards deciding him to accept the cure
+of the wild mountain town.
+
+Bosio's almost solemn words, as his chin fell upon his breast, and he
+clasped his hands before him, suddenly recalled to the priest the years
+they had spent together, the confidence there had been between them, the
+interest he had once felt in Bosio's fortune,--as an object once daily
+familiar, and fresh once and not without beauty, then long hidden for
+years, and coming suddenly to sight again, moth-eaten, dusty, and all
+but destroyed, is oddly painful to him who used it long ago, and then
+sees it when it is fit only to be thrown away.
+
+"You are suffering," said Don Teodoro, leaning forward upon the marble
+table and peering through his silver-rimmed spectacles into Bosio's pale
+face, and gentle, exhausted eyes.
+
+The priest's nervous, emaciated hand softly pressed the sleeve of the
+younger man's coat, and the fantastic features grew wonderfully gentle
+and kind. It was the transformation that came over them whenever any one
+was visibly poor, or starving, or sorrowing, or hurt,--the change which
+a beautiful passion brings to the ugliest face in the world.
+
+Bosio smiled faintly as he saw it, and a little hope was breathed into
+his heart, as though somewhere, at some immeasurable distance, there
+might be a possibility of salvation from the ruin and wreck of his
+horrible life.
+
+"Yes," he said. "I am suffering. It is a great suffering. I do not think
+that I can live much longer."
+
+"Can I do nothing?" asked Don Teodoro.
+
+Bosio still smiled, as a man smiles in torture when one speaks to him of
+peace.
+
+"If I believed that anything could be done," he said, "I should not
+suffer as I do. I have lived a bad life, and the time has come when I
+must pay the score. But it is not my fault if things are as they are--it
+is not all my fault."
+
+The priest sighed, and looked away after a moment.
+
+"We have all done some one great wrong thing in our lives," he said
+gently. "The price may perhaps be paid to God in good, as well as to man
+in pain."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+Bosio shook his head, and a long silence followed. Once or twice he
+roused himself, stirred the cup of chocolate which the waiter had set
+before him, and sipped a teaspoonful of it absently. The corner where
+the two men sat together was quiet, but from the front of the cafe came
+the continual clatter of plates and glasses, the echo of feet, and the
+ring of voices; for it was just midday, and the place was full of its
+habitual frequenters.
+
+"If we were in church," said Bosio at last, "and if you were in a
+confessional--"
+
+He stopped, and glanced at his companion without completing the
+sentence.
+
+"You would make a confession? There are churches near," said Don
+Teodoro. "I am ready. Will you come?"
+
+Bosio hesitated.
+
+"No," he said at last. "I could tell you nothing without betraying
+others."
+
+"Betraying! Is it a crime that you have on your conscience?" The
+priest's voice was low and troubled.
+
+"Many crimes," answered Bosio. "The crimes that must come, and that I
+cannot prevent by living, nor hinder by dying."
+
+Again there was silence during several minutes.
+
+"You may trust me as a friend, even if, as a priest, you could not
+confess all the circumstances to me," said Don Teodoro, after the long
+pause. "I do not wish you to make confidences to me, unless you are
+impelled to do so. But you are in that frame of mind, my dear Bosio, in
+which a man will sooner or later unburden himself to some one. You might
+do worse than choose me. I am your friend, I am old, and I know that I
+am discreet. I am extraordinarily discreet. It may seem strange that I
+should say so myself, but my own life has taught me that I am to be
+trusted with secrets."
+
+"Yes," replied Bosio. "You must have heard strange things sometimes
+under the seal of confession."
+
+"I have known of strange things." Don Teodoro's face grew sad and
+thoughtful, and Bosio, seeing it, suddenly made up his mind.
+
+He leaned far back against the painted wall for a moment, with
+half-closed eyes. Then he drew nearer to his friend, so that he spoke
+close to the latter's ear, though he looked down at the table before
+him. His nervous fingers played with the teaspoon in the saucer of his
+cup.
+
+It was a strange confession, there in the corner of the crowded cafe at
+midday, and those who glanced idly at the two men from a distance would
+hardly have guessed that an act in a mysterious life was before their
+eyes--an act which was itself but a verbal recapitulation of many
+actions past, but which to the speaker had an enormous importance of its
+own, and an influence on the future of all concerned.
+
+Not much had been needed to break through the barrier of Bosio's
+reticence. Walking through the streets that morning he had for a moment
+even thought of telling some of his story to Taquisara. It was far
+easier to tell it to the only true friend he had in the world, to one in
+whom he had confided as a boy and had trusted as a young man. He told
+almost all. He confessed that his love of many years had been his
+brother's wife, and though he spoke no word of her love for him, the old
+priest knew the evil truth from the man's tone and look. For the rest he
+spared neither Matilde nor any one else, but told Don Teodoro all the
+truth, and all his anxious fears for Veronica's safety, if he should not
+marry her, with all his horror of his own shame if he should yield to
+the pressure brought upon him.
+
+Don Teodoro's expression changed more than once while he listened, but
+he never turned his head nor moved in his seat.
+
+"You see what I am," said Bosio, at last. "You see what my people are.
+Indeed, I need a confessor, if one could save my soul; but I need a
+friend even more, for through me that poor girl is in danger of her
+life. That is her choice--to die or to be my wife. Mine is, to see her
+murdered or to do an unutterably shameful thing--or to see the woman I
+love driven out of the world with infamy for the crimes she has not
+committed, and the fear of that disgrace is making her mad. It is for
+her, and for Veronica! What do I care about myself? What have I left to
+care for? What I have done, I have done. I am not good, I am not
+religious, I am perhaps a worse sinner than most men, and a poorer
+believer than many. But I will not be the instrument of these deeds--and
+yet, if I refuse--there is death, or shame, or both, to those I love! At
+least I have spoken, and you will not betray me. It has been a relief, a
+moment's respite from torture. I thank you for it, my friend, and I wish
+I could repay you. You cannot give me advice, for I have twisted and
+turned it all in fifty ways, and there is no escape. You cannot help me,
+for no one can. But you have done me some little momentary good, just by
+sitting there and hearing my story. Beyond that there is nothing to be
+done."
+
+The wretched man closed his eyes, and again leaned back against the
+bright red wall, which threw his white face and dark-ringed eyes into
+strong and painful relief. Don Teodoro was silent, bending his mind upon
+the hideous problem. Bosio misunderstood him and spoke again without
+moving.
+
+"I know," he said. "You need not speak. I know by heart all the
+reproaches I deserve, and I know that no human being, much less a holy
+man like yourself, could possibly feel anything but horror at all
+this--"
+
+"I am very far from being a holy man," interrupted the priest. "If I
+feel horror, it is for what has been, and may be, but not for you.
+Bosio--" he hesitated a moment. "Will you come with me to Muro, and
+leave all this?" he asked suddenly. "Will you come out of the world for
+a while? No--I am not proposing to you to make a religious retreat. I
+wish I could. I know the world, and you, and your people, for I lived
+long among you, and I know that one cannot change one's soul, as one
+changes one's coat--nor enter upon a retreat as one springs into the sea
+for a bath in hot weather. What you have made yourself, you are. Heaven
+itself would need time to unmake you. I speak just as one man to
+another. Come with me to the mountains for a week, a month--as long as
+you will. It is dreary and cold, and you will have to eat what you can
+get; but you will have peace, for nobody will come up there to disturb
+you. Meanwhile, something may happen. You are overwrought by all you
+have seen and heard and felt. Whatever the countess may have said,
+Donna Veronica is quite safe. My dear Bosio, people in your rank of
+life do not murder one another for money nowadays. It is laughable, the
+mere idea of it--"
+
+"Laughable!" Bosio turned and looked at him. "If you had seen her eyes,
+you would find it hard to laugh, I think. Such things happen rarely,
+perhaps, but they happen sometimes."
+
+Don Teodoro was not persuaded. He thought that Bosio, in his excited
+state, very much overestimated the danger.
+
+"At all events," he said, "nothing will happen, so long as there is the
+possibility that you may marry her. If you come with me, you will at
+least have time to think before acting. But here, you may be forced to
+act before you have been able to think."
+
+But Bosio shook his head slowly.
+
+"There are difficulties which can be helped by putting them off," he
+answered. "This is not one. You forget that in just three weeks my
+brother will be ruined--absolutely ruined--if he cannot pay. If I stayed
+that time with you, I should come back to find him a beggar--or obliged
+to throw himself upon Veronica's mercy and charity for his daily bread
+and for a roof to cover him."
+
+"There is one other way," said the priest, thoughtfully. "There is one
+thing left for you to do, if you have courage to do it. And you know
+better than I what chance there would be of success. It is what I
+should do myself. It is a heroic remedy, but it may save everything
+yet."
+
+Bosio's eyes turned anxiously to his friend, by way of question.
+
+"Find Veronica alone," said Don Teodoro. "Take all rights into your own
+hands and tell her everything, just as you have told me. You know her
+well. If she is kind-hearted, as I think she is, she will pay your
+brother's debts, take over the estates herself, since it is time, and
+manage that Cardinal Campodonico shall never suspect that there has been
+anything wrong with the administration. If she is not so charitable as
+to do that of her own free will, why then, since you believe it, tell
+her that she must do it to save her life. It is most unlikely that she
+will refuse and take refuge with the cardinal in order to bring public
+disgrace upon her father's sister. And even that, horrible as it seems
+to you--if it must be, it will be, and it will not be your fault--"
+
+"But Matilde--" Bosio began in troubled tones. "And yet, perhaps, it is
+possible. Veronica would not be so cruel as to ruin them--the money is
+nothing to her. And, after all, she will hardly feel the loss out of her
+immense fortune. Yes--" his face brightened slowly with the rays of
+hope. "Yes--it may be possible, after all. I had thought of going to
+her, but not of telling her the whole truth. It did not seem as though
+I could, until I had heard myself tell it to you. It will be hard, but
+it seems possible, and it will save her--and then--"
+
+His face changed again, as he broke off in the sentence, and his
+melancholy eyes turned slowly to his friend.
+
+"And then," said Don Teodoro, "perhaps you will go back with me to Muro,
+and rest and forget it all."
+
+"Yes," answered Bosio, sadly and dreamily, "perhaps I shall go to Muro
+with you. I wonder," he continued, after a short pause, "that you should
+want such a man as I am in your priest's house there."
+
+"Oh! I am glad of a little society when I can get it, and I have much to
+show you which might interest you. I have worked perpetually for many
+years, since we used to talk about my history of the Church."
+
+He checked himself. In spite of all he had just heard, and the real
+distress and sympathy he had felt for Bosio, the one of his dominant
+passions which was uppermost just then had almost made him forget
+everything, and launch into an account of his work and studies. Men who,
+intellectually, are deeply engrossed in one matter, and who, socially,
+have long lived very lonely lives, are not generally able to lose
+themselves in sympathy for others. As Bosio was not exactly an object
+for Don Teodoro's charity, he was in some danger of being made a
+listener for the outpouring of the priest's tremendous intellectual
+enthusiasm. But the latter checked himself. The things he had heard were
+indeed of a nature not so easily forgotten. He went back to them at
+once.
+
+"My dear Bosio," he began again, "do not put yourself down as the worst
+of men. It is just as bad to go too far in one direction as in the
+other. There is undoubtedly, in theory, the man in the world, at any
+given moment, who must be a little worse than any other living man; but
+though he might be our next-door neighbour, we have no means whatever of
+knowing that he is the greatest sinner alive, because we do not know all
+about all existing sinners. Consequently, and for the same reason, no
+man has any right to assume that he is worst of men. And as far as that
+goes, many men have done worse things, even in the religious view, than
+you have done, and very much worse things, in the opinion of society.
+You are not responsible for all that the others have done. You are only
+responsible in the immediate future for your share of duty, in doing the
+wisest and best thing which may present itself. And if you can induce
+Donna Veronica to forgive your brother and your brother's wife, by
+telling her the truth without prevarication, you will have done
+something to atone for the past evil which, you cannot undo. I am not
+preaching to you, my dear friend. Pray look upon me as a man and not as
+a priest. Indeed, I would rather that you should never think of me as a
+priest at all. If you need spiritual help, there are many better men
+than I, who can give it to you. But as a man and a friend, come to me if
+you will. You are to me also a man and a friend, and not a penitent."
+
+He finished speaking, took off his spectacles, and rested his head
+against the wall behind him, as Bosio had done, and the younger man
+glanced sideways at his friend's extraordinary profile. Its fantastic
+outline had a moral effect upon him; for it recalled, as nothing else
+could, the early days of his life before he had been what he now was,
+when he had known what hope meant, and had understood aspirations in
+others which had no meaning for him now. He was very grateful, too, for
+Don Teodoro's words, which certainly comforted him in a way he had not
+expected.
+
+"Thank you," he said, "I will think of it. I think I shall take your
+advice and speak to Veronica. She can save us all, if she will."
+
+"Yes," said Don Teodoro. "She can save you all--and she will."
+
+Then they sat a long time in silence in their corner, and the priest's
+mind wandered occasionally to the thought of his manuscript, and of the
+many points he intended to discuss with his friend Don Matteo, a man as
+learned as himself, but indolent instead of active, one of those
+passive, living treasuries of thought upon which the active worker
+fastens greedily when he has a chance, to extract all the riches he can
+in the shortest possible time, in any shape, to carry the gold away with
+him to his workshop and fashion it to his wish.
+
+And Bosio, whose intelligence was essentially dramatic and given to
+throwing future interviews into an imaginary dramatic shape, thought
+over and over what he would say to Veronica and what she might be
+expected to say to him. But he was terribly exhausted and harassed, and
+by degrees as the stimulant of recent comfort lost its cheering warmth
+within him, he silently grew despondent again within himself, and his
+dramatic fancies of fear became near and tragic realities. He thought he
+could hear the clear, bell-like voice of the somnambulist telling him
+that he should be forced to marry Veronica.
+
+At last, realizing that he was probably detaining Don Teodoro, he roused
+himself, and the two went out together into the broad light of the
+Piazza San Ferdinando.
+
+"I will go home," Bosio said. "I will think of it all. At this time I
+can easily be alone with Veronica."
+
+His voice sounded as though he were speaking to himself, and his head
+was bent, so that he stooped from the neck as Don Teodoro did. But the
+latter, as he walked, his silver-rimmed spectacles balanced on his great
+nose, thrust his bent head more forward. Or rather, it was as though his
+head moved first in the direction he meant to follow, while his thin
+legs had difficulty in keeping up with it.
+
+Bosio was willing to put off the moment of going home as long as
+possible, and he accompanied his friend to the door of Don Matteo's
+lodging, which was in a clean, quiet, sunlit street, behind the
+Piazza--in one of those oases of light and cleanliness upon which one
+sometimes comes in the heart of Naples. The little green door was
+reached by a couple of steps up from the level of the street. Don
+Teodoro had a key and stood on the upper step, holding it in his hand
+and blinking in the warm sunshine.
+
+"You know this house," he said. "You have been to see me here once or
+twice. If you want me, you can always send for me in the afternoon, for
+I only go out in the morning. But I will come and see you. When?
+To-morrow, before noon?"
+
+"Yes," Bosio answered. "By to-morrow at midday something will be
+decided."
+
+They shook hands and parted, Bosio turning eastward in the direction of
+his home. The priest absently tried to insert the key in the lock of the
+door, while his eyes followed his friend to the corner of the street.
+Then, as Bosio's still graceful figure disappeared, he turned from the
+keyhole with a sigh, and let himself in.
+
+Bosio walked rapidly at first, and then more slowly as he came nearer to
+the old quarter in which the Palazzo Macomer was situated. As with all
+men of such character, his irresolution increased just when he fancied
+that he was about to do something decisive. He would not have hesitated
+in the same way, if he had been called upon to face a physical danger;
+for though he was certainly no hero, he was by no means a physical
+coward, and in a quarrel he would have stood up bravely enough to face
+his antagonist. But this was very different. He had been ruled by
+Matilde Macomer through many years, and when he thought of meeting her
+he had a deadly presentiment of assured defeat. She would extract from
+him something more than the silent assent which he had been forced into
+giving on the previous evening, and she could not let him go till he
+promised to marry Veronica. He walked more slowly, as he felt the fear
+and uncertainty twisting his scant courage from his heart.
+
+Then he was ashamed of himself, and in a sudden attempt to be brave he
+hailed a passing cab and drove rapidly to the Palazzo Macomer. He asked
+for Veronica and was told that she was in her room. He did not wish to
+send her a message. Gregorio had gone out immediately after the midday
+breakfast. Bosio was glad of that. He had not seen his brother since the
+previous evening, and he did not wish to see him alone. There were
+monstrous wrongs on both sides, and it was better to pretend mutual
+ignorance, and keep up the ghastly farce, pretending that nothing was
+the matter. The very smallest incautious word would crack the swaying
+bubble that was blown to bursting with hell's breath.
+
+Bosio had entered the main apartments in order to inquire for Veronica,
+had passed through the long outer hall with its red walls, its matted
+floor and its great table covered with green baize, to the antechamber
+within, where, with some ostentation, as Bosio had always thought,
+Gregorio had hung up the escutcheon with the quartered arms of Macomer
+and Serra, flanked by half a dozen big old family portraits on either
+side, opposite the three windows. He had waited there until the footman
+returned after looking for Veronica in the drawing-room, and when he
+heard that she was not there, he turned to reach the staircase again and
+go up to his own bachelor's quarters, for he feared to meet Matilde and
+hoped to put off seeing her until dinner-time, when he might so
+manoeuvre as not to be left alone with her.
+
+But the footman had hardly delivered his answer, and Bosio was in the
+act of turning, when one of the two masked doors under the pictures
+opened suddenly, and Matilde spoke into the room, calling him by name.
+He turned pale and stopped short, as though a cold hand had taken him by
+the throat. The footman went out to the hall, as Bosio met Matilde's
+eyes.
+
+"Come," she said briefly, "I want to speak to you."
+
+He obeyed silently, and followed her through the narrow door and through
+a passage beyond, to her own morning-room. Matilde shut the door. The
+afternoon sun streamed in through two high windows, filling every corner
+with light and turning the crimson carpet blood red, where Matilde
+stood, all round her feet and the folds of her loose dark gown, so that
+she seemed to rise out of a pool of vivid colour, a dark, strong figure
+with the brightness all behind her and the gleam of her eyes just
+lightening in the shadow of her face.
+
+"Why did you go out without seeing me this morning?" she asked in a hard
+tone. "And why did Taquisara come to see you early? You scarcely know
+him--"
+
+"I certainly did not send for him," said Bosio, uneasily.
+
+"He did not come for nothing," retorted Matilde. "He is no friend of
+yours. He must have come for some particular reason."
+
+Bosio said nothing, but turned from her and moved towards a table
+covered with books. In an objectless way he opened a volume and looked
+at the title page. Matilde followed him with her eyes.
+
+"Well?" she said presently, "I am waiting. What did Taquisara have to
+say? He is Gianluca's friend--he came with a message. That is clear.
+What did he say? I am waiting to hear."
+
+"He came because he chose to come," answered Bosio, still looking at the
+title page of the book. "Gianluca did not send him. He wished to know
+whether it were true that I was to marry Veronica."
+
+"I thought so. And what did you answer? Of course you told him that it
+was quite settled."
+
+"We had a long conversation--I do not remember all that we said--"
+
+"You do not remember whether you told him that you were to marry
+Veronica or not?" Matilde laughed angrily and came forward.
+
+"Let that book alone!" she said imperiously. "Look at me--so--now tell
+me the truth!"
+
+She laid her hand upon his arm, and not gently, and she made him turn to
+her. Bosio felt that shock of shame which smites a man in the back, as
+it were, when a woman is too strong for him and orders him brutally to
+do her will.
+
+"I told him the truth," he answered, and his pale cheeks reddened with
+futile anger.
+
+"The truth!" Matilde's face darkened. "What? What did you tell him?"
+
+Bosio was weakly glad to have frightened her a little.
+
+"The truth," he said, trying to assume a certain indifference. "Just
+that. I let him understand that nothing is definitely settled yet, and
+that there is no contract--"
+
+Matilde was silent, and her eyes seemed to draw nearer together, while
+the smooth red lips curled scornfully.
+
+"Oh, what a coward you are!" she cried in a low voice, in deep disgust,
+and as she spoke she dropped his arm in contempt, though she still held
+his face with her angry gaze.
+
+"You have no right to call me a coward," answered Bosio, defending his
+manhood. "I told you that I could not do it. The man put it in such a
+way that I had to give him a definite answer. For your sake I would not
+deny the engagement altogether--"
+
+"For my sake!" exclaimed Matilde. "Do not use such phrases to me. They
+mean nothing. For some wretched quibble of your miserable conscience--as
+you still have the assumption to call it--you will ruin us in another
+day."
+
+"Yes, I still have some conscience," replied Bosio, trying to be bold
+under her scornful eyes. "I would not let Taquisara think that you and
+Gregorio had lied, and I would not lie myself--"
+
+"You are reforming, then? You choose the moment well!"
+
+"I have told you what passed between Taquisara and me," said Bosio.
+"That was what you wished to know. I will judge of myself whether I did
+right or not."
+
+He turned from her and walked away, towards the door.
+
+"Well?" she said, not moving, for she knew that her voice would stop
+him.
+
+"Is there anything else?" he asked, turning again and standing still.
+
+"There is much more. Come back! Sit down and talk to me like a sensible
+being. There is much to be said. The matter is all but settled in spite
+of the account which Taquisara frightened you into giving him. I like
+that man, he is so brave! He is not at all like you."
+
+"If you wish me to stay longer, you must not insult me again," said
+Bosio, not yet seating himself, but resting his hands on the back of a
+chair as he stood. "You know very well that I am no more a coward, if it
+comes to fighting men, than others are. One need not be cowardly to
+dread doing such a thing as you are trying to force me to."
+
+"It does not seem such a very terrible thing," said Matilde, her tone
+suddenly changing and growing thoughtful. "It really does not seem to me
+such a dreadful thing that you should be Veronica's husband. Of course
+I do not speak of the material advantages. You were always an idealist,
+Bosio--you do not care for those things, and I daresay that when you are
+married you will not even care to take her titles, nor to spend much of
+her money. I know well enough what passes in your mind. Sit down. Let us
+talk about it. We cannot afford to quarrel, you and I, can we? I am
+sorry I spoke as I did--and I never meant that you were cowardly in the
+ordinary sense. I was angry about Taquisara. What right had he to come
+here, to pry into our affairs? I should think you would have resented
+it, too."
+
+"I did," said Bosio, somewhat sullenly. "But I could not turn him out,
+nor get into a quarrel with him. It would have made a useless scandal
+and would have set every one talking."
+
+"Certainly," assented Matilde. "Perhaps you did right, after all--at
+least, you thought you did. I am sure of that. I do not know why I was
+so angry at you. I am unstrung, and nervous, I suppose. Did I say very
+dreadful things to you, dear? I do not know what I said--"
+
+"You called me a coward several times," replied Bosio, thinking to show
+a little strength by relenting slowly.
+
+"Oh! but I did not mean it!" cried the countess. "Bosio, forgive me. I
+did not mean to say such things--indeed, I did not. But do you wonder
+that I am nervous? Say that you forgive me--"
+
+"Of course I forgive you," answered Bosio, raising his eyebrows rather
+wearily. "I know that you are under a terrible strain--but you say
+things sometimes which are unjust and hard. I know what all this means
+to us both--but there must be some other way."
+
+Matilde shook her head mournfully, as Bosio sat down beside her, already
+sinking back to his long-learned docility.
+
+"There is no other way," she said. "There is certainly none, that is
+sure. I have thought it all over, as one thinks of everything when
+everything is in danger. The only other course is to throw ourselves
+upon Veronica's mercy--"
+
+"Well? Why not?" asked Bosio, eagerly, as Don Teodoro's advice gained
+instant plausibility again. "She is kind, she is charitable, she will
+forgive everything and save you--"
+
+"The shame of it, Bosio! Of confessing it all--and she may refuse.
+Veronica is not all kindness and charity. She is a Serra, as I am, and
+though she is a mere girl, if she takes it into her head to be hard and
+unforgiving, there would be no power on earth that could move her. She
+is not so unlike me, Bosio. You may think so because she is so unlike me
+in looks. She has the type of her father, poor Tommaso. But we Serra
+are all Serra--there is not much difference. No--do not interrupt me,
+dear. And as for your marriage, there is much to be said for it. It is
+time that you were married, you know. You and I have lived our lives,
+and we are not what we were. I shall always be fond of you--we shall
+always be more than friends--but always less than what we have been. It
+must have come sooner or later, Bosio, and it may as well come now. You
+know--we cannot be always young. And as for me, if I am not already old,
+I soon shall be."
+
+The woman who had held him so long knew how to tempt him, sacrificing
+everything in the desperate straits to which she was reduced. Though he
+had loved her well, and sinfully, but truly, for so many years, his love
+had sometimes seemed an unbearable thraldom, to escape from which he
+would have given his heart piecemeal, though he should lose all the
+happiness life held for him, for the sake of a momentary freedom.
+Possibly, too, she knew that he never longed for that freedom so much as
+when she had just been most violent and despotic. She was prepared for
+the feeble dissent with which he answered her suggestion of separation.
+He would be the more easily persuaded to yield and marry Veronica.
+
+"As for your being old," he said, "it is absurd. It is I who have grown
+old of late. But our being friends--" he paused thoughtfully.
+
+"A man is never too old to marry," answered Matilde. "It is only women
+who grow too old to be loved. You will begin your life all over again
+with Veronica. You and she will go away together--you can live in Rome,
+when you are tired of Paris. It will be better. You and I will see each
+other seldom at first. By and by it will be so easy for us to be good
+friends after we have been separated some time."
+
+"Friends?" Bosio spoke the one word again, with a sad and dreamy
+intonation.
+
+"I asked Veronica this morning," continued Matilde, not heeding him, and
+beginning to speak more rapidly. "You have no idea how very fond she is
+of you. When I spoke of the marriage, she seemed to think it the most
+natural thing in the world. She found arguments for it herself."
+
+"She?"
+
+"Yes. She said--what I have said to you--that there was no man whom she
+knew so well and liked so much as you, that of course she had never
+thought of marrying you, nor, indeed, of being married at all, but that,
+at the same time, she should think that you would make a very good
+husband. She wished to think of it--that is as much as to say that she
+will not even make any serious objections. You have no idea how young
+girls feel about marriage, Bosio. How should you? You cannot comprehend
+the horror a girl like Veronica feels of a stranger, of a man like
+Gianluca, even, whom she has met half a dozen times and talked with. It
+seems so dreadful to think of spending a lifetime with a man about whom
+she knows nothing, or next to nothing. And yet it is the custom, and
+most of them accept it and are happy. But the idea of marrying some one
+with whom she is really intimate, whom she really likes, who really
+understands her, places marriage in a new light for a young girl.
+Without knowing it, Veronica is half in love with you. It is no wonder
+that she likes the thought of being your wife--apart from the fact that
+you are a very desirable husband."
+
+"I cannot believe that," said Bosio.
+
+"That you are desirable as a husband? My dear Bosio, do not pretend to
+be so absurdly modest! Any woman would be glad to marry you. But for me,
+you could have made the best match in Naples years ago--"
+
+"Not even years ago. Much less now. But that was not what I meant. I
+cannot believe that Veronica is really inclined to marry me. It seems to
+me that she might be my daughter--"
+
+"If you had been married at fifteen," suggested Matilde, laughing
+softly. "Because you feel tired and harassed to-day, you feel a hundred
+years old. It is no compliment to me to say so, for I am even a little
+older than you, I think. And you--you are young, you are handsome, you
+are talented, you have the manners that women love--"
+
+"It is not many minutes since you were saying that we were both growing
+old--"
+
+"No, no! I said that we could not always be young. That is very
+different. And that we have lived our lives--our lives so long as they
+can be lived together--that is what I meant. You are young! How many men
+marry at fifty! And you are not forty yet. You have ten years of youth
+before you. That is not the question. So far as that is concerned, say
+that you are old to-night, at dinner, and you shall see how Veronica
+will laugh at you! But that you and I should part, Bosio--and yet, it is
+far better, if you have the courage."
+
+"Have you?" he asked sadly.
+
+"Yes--I have, for your sake, since I see how you look at this. And you
+are right. I know you are, though I am only a woman, and cannot have a
+man's ideas about honour. For my own part--well, I am a woman, and I
+have loved you long. But you are the one to be thought of. You shall be
+free, as though I had never lived. You shall be able to say to yourself
+that in marrying Veronica you are not doing anything in the least
+dishonourable. I shall not exist for you. I shall not feel that I have
+the right to think of you and for you as I always have. I shall never
+ask you to do anything for me, lest you should feel that I were
+asserting some claim to you, as though you were still mine. It will be
+hard at first. But I can do it, and I will do it, in order that your
+conscience may be free. You shall marry her, as though you had never
+known me, and hereafter I will always be the same. Only--" She fixed her
+eyes upon him with a look which, whether genuine or assumed, was fierce
+and tender--
+
+"Only--if you are not true to her, Bosio--if you leave her and go after
+some other woman--then I will turn upon you!"
+
+Bosio met her glance with a look of something like astonishment,
+wondering how in a few sentences she had got herself into a position to
+threaten him with vengeance if he were unfaithful to Veronica.
+
+"We will not speak of that," she exclaimed before he said anything in
+answer or protest. "We have harder things to do than to imagine evil in
+the future. Since we are decided--since it is to be the end--let it be
+now, quickly! You shall not have it on your mind that you belong to me
+in any way, from now. No--you are right--you must feel free. You must
+feel free, besides really being free. You must feel, when you speak to
+Veronica to-night or to-morrow, as she expects you to speak, that all
+our life together is utterly past and swept away, and that I only exist
+henceforth as a relative--as--as your wife's aunt, Bosio!"
+
+She laughed, half-bitterly, half-nervously, at the idea, and turning
+away her face she held out her hand to him.
+
+He took it, and held it, pressing it between both his own.
+
+"Do you mean this, Matilde?" he asked in a low voice.
+
+"Yes, I mean it," she answered, speaking away from him with averted
+face.
+
+He could not see, but she was biting her lip till it almost bled. In her
+own strange way she loved him with all her evil nature, and if she were
+breaking with him now, it was to save herself from something worse than
+death. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. He hesitated: there
+was the mean prompting of the spirit, to take her at her word and to set
+himself free, since she offered him freedom, caring not whether she
+might repent to-morrow; and there was the instinct of fidelity which in
+so much dishonour had remained with him through so many years.
+
+"Besides," she said hoarsely, "I do not love you any more. I would not
+keep you longer, if I could. Oh--we shall be friends! But the other--no!
+Good bye, Bosio--good bye."
+
+Something moved him, as she had not meant that anything should.
+
+"I do not believe you," he said. "You love me still--I will not leave
+you!"
+
+"No, no! I do not--but if you still care at all, save me. Say good bye,
+but do the rest also. You are free now. You are an honourable man again.
+Bosio, look at my hair. You used to love it. Would you have it cut off
+and cropped by the convict's shears? My hands that you are
+holding--dear--would you love them galled by the irons, riveted upon
+them for years? Save me, Bosio! You are free now--save me, for the dear
+sake of all that has been!"
+
+Still she turned her face away, and as Bosio saw the waving richness of
+her brown hair and heard her words, he felt a desperate thrust of pain
+in his heart. It was all so fearfully true and possible.
+
+"But do not say that you do not love me," he pleaded, in low tones,
+bending to her ear.
+
+There was a moment's silence, and he thought he saw a convulsive
+movement of her throat--he guessed it rather than saw it.
+
+"It is true!" she cried, with an effort, drawing her hands from him and
+turning her pale face fiercely. "If I loved you still, do you think I
+would give you to Veronica Serra, or to any living woman? Was that the
+way I loved you? Was that how you loved me?"
+
+"Ah no! But now--"
+
+She would not let him speak.
+
+"Do you think that if I loved you, as I have loved you--as I did once--I
+should be so ready to give you up? Do you know me so little? Do you
+think that I have no pride?" asked Matilde Macomer, holding him at arm's
+length from her with her strong hands and throwing back her head, while
+the lids half veiled her eyes, and her face grew paler still.
+
+The words that were so strange, spoken by such a woman, fell from her
+lips with force and earnest conviction, whether she truly believed that
+they had meaning for her, or not. Then her voice changed and softened
+again.
+
+"But your friend--yes, always, as you must be mine--that and nothing
+more. We have said good bye to all the rest--now go, for I would rather
+be alone for a little while. Go, Bosio--please go!"
+
+"As you will," he answered.
+
+Then he kissed her hand and looked into her face for a moment, as though
+expecting that she should speak again. But she only shook her head, and
+her hand gave his no pressure. He kissed it again. There were tears in
+his eyes when he left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Love is not the privilege of the virtuous, nor the exclusive right of
+the weak man and woman. The earth brings forth the good thing and the
+bad thing with equal strength to grow great and multiply side by side,
+and it is not the privilege of the good thing to live forever because it
+is good, nor is it the condemnation of the bad to die before its time,
+perishing in its own evil.
+
+A moment after Bosio had left the room, Matilde rose to her feet, very
+pale and unsteady, and locked the door. Then, as though she were groping
+her way in darkness, she got back to the sofa, and falling upon it,
+buried her face in the cushions, and bit them, lest she should cry out.
+She felt that it would have been easier, after all, to have killed
+Veronica Serra, than it had been to part with the one thing she had
+loved in her life.
+
+She had not loved him better than herself, perhaps, since it was to save
+herself that she had driven him away. But it had not been to save
+herself from so small and insignificant a thing as death, though she was
+vital and loved life for its own sake. She had not realized, either,
+until it had been almost done, how necessary it was. Yesterday she had
+been more cynical. Her own wickedness was teaching her the necessity of
+some good, and she saw now clearly that Bosio was one degree less base
+than herself. She believed that he would now be willing to marry
+Veronica, but she understood that until now he would not have done
+it--unless she had freed him from the galling remnant of his own
+conscience, and had formally given him his liberty. To give him that, in
+order that he might save her, she had torn out her heart by the roots.
+
+The bitterest of all was this, that he had scarcely struggled against
+her will, when she had left him to himself. He had said a few words,
+indeed, but he could hardly have said less, if he had meant nothing. She
+knew well enough that at almost any point she could have brought him
+back, playing upon the fidelity of habit. At her voice, at her glance,
+for one word of her pleading, he would have come back to her feet,
+willing to remain. But there was no vital strength of passion in him to
+keep him to her against her mere spoken will. Once or twice, in spite of
+herself, her voice had softened; she had felt that her face betrayed
+her, and had turned it away; she had known that her hands were icy cold
+in his, and had hoped that he would not notice it and understand, and
+feel, perhaps, that his accursed habit of fidelity would not let him
+take the freedom she thrust upon him. He had not seen, he had not felt,
+he had noticed nothing; and he was gone, glad to be free from her at
+last, willing to marry another woman, ready to forget what had held him
+by a thread which he respected, but not by a bond which he could not
+break. She had long guessed how it was; she knew it now--she had known
+the truth last night, when she had smoothed his soft hair with her hand
+and had spoken softly to him, but had not got from him the promise that
+meant salvation to her and her husband. Then she had known what she must
+do. Once more she had tried to impose her strength upon his weakness,
+and had failed. Then, almost without an outward sign, she had made up
+her mind. And now--he was gone. That was all she knew, or remembered,
+for an hour, as she lay there on the sofa, biting the cushions. It would
+have been far easier to kill Veronica, than to let him go. It was not
+her conscience that suffered, but her heart, and it could suffer still.
+
+It would have been worse, had that been possible, if she had known what
+Bosio felt at that moment. Happily for her, she never knew. For in the
+midst of the life-and-death terror of the situation, he was conscious
+that he rejoiced at being unexpectedly free at last from the slavery of
+her power. It was perhaps the satisfaction of an aspiration, good in
+itself, of a long-smouldering revolt against the life of deception she
+had imposed upon him; but in respect of his manhood, it was mean. For
+good is what men are, when they are doing good. It cannot be the good
+itself, which, though it profit many, may be so done as to stab and
+wound the secret enemy of the man's own heart. The good such a man does
+the whole world is but the knife in his hand wherewith to hurt the one.
+But Bosio hurt only himself, and little, at that, for he was almost past
+hurting; and Matilde never knew what he felt. And though he suffered
+most of all, perhaps, between the beginning and the end, there was no
+one moment of all his suffering which was like the agony of the strong
+and evil woman when she had driven him away, and was quite alone. She
+knew, now, what it meant to be alone.
+
+When she rose at last, her face was changed; there was a keen, famished
+look in her eyes, and her movements were steady and direct. Her nature
+was very unlike Bosio's, for she was able to drive her will into action,
+as it were, and she could be sure that it would not turn and bend, and
+disappoint her. But, for the present, she could do little more, and she
+knew it. She could only hope that all things might go well, standing
+ready at hand to throw her weight upon the scale-beam if fate alone
+would not bear down the side that bore her safety. She had said all
+that she could say to Veronica and to Bosio. Gregorio Macomer, her
+husband, whom she hated and despised, but whom she was saving, or trying
+to save, with herself, carried the effrontery of his sham-honest face
+and cold manner through it all, unmoved, so far as she could see. Only
+once or twice in the course of the day he had laughed suddenly and
+nervously, with a contraction of the face and a raising of the flat
+upper lip that showed his sharp yellow teeth. No one noticed it but
+Matilde, and it frightened her. But hitherto he had said nothing more
+since he had first confided to her, as to his only possible helper, the
+nature of his danger.
+
+She had not reproached him with what he had done. The danger itself was
+too great for that, and perhaps she had suspected its approach too long
+to be surprised at his confession. She had paid very little attention to
+the words he used; for, considering his nature, it was natural that he
+should, even in such extremity, attempt to throw a side-light of dignity
+upon his misfortunes, and should call crimes by names which suggested
+honest dealing to the ordinary hearer, such as 'transference of title,'
+'reinvestment,' 'realization,' and the like; all of which, in plain
+language, meant that he had taken what was not his, without the shadow
+of authorization from any one, in the quite indefensible way which the
+law calls 'stealing.'
+
+Matilde had been amazed, however, at the impunity he had hitherto
+enjoyed. The mere fact that the estate had never been handed over by the
+guardians, of whom she was one and Cardinal Campodonico the third, was
+probably in itself actionable, had Veronica chosen to protest; and it
+was an indubitable fact that Gregorio Macomer had taken large sums after
+the guardianship had legally expired. There had been none to hinder him
+and Lamberto Squarci from doing as they pleased. The cardinal was deeply
+engaged in other matters, and was, moreover, not at all a man of
+business. He believed Gregorio to be honest, and now and then, when he
+talked with Veronica, he applauded her wisdom in leaving the management
+of her affairs in such experienced hands.
+
+Matilde unlocked her door when she felt that she was once more mistress
+of herself and able to face the world. A woman does not lead the life
+she had led for years without at least knowing herself well and
+understanding exactly how far she can rely upon her face and voice. She
+knew when she rose from the sofa that she could go through the remainder
+of the day well enough; and though her eyes gleamed hungrily, there was
+a cynical smile on her lips as she turned over the red cushion, on which
+there were marks where she had bitten it, and softly unlocked the door.
+She went into her dressing-room, beyond, for a moment, to smooth her
+hair. That was all, for there had been no tears in her eyes.
+
+When she returned, she was surprised to see her husband standing before
+the window, with his back to the broad sunshine, peacefully smoking a
+cigarette. The smoke curled lazily about his grey head, in the quiet
+air, as he allowed it to issue from his parted lips almost without the
+help of his breath. His face was like stone, but as he opened his mouth
+to let out the wreathing smoke, his lips smiled in an unnatural way.
+Matilde half unconsciously compared him to one of those grimacing
+Chinese monsters of grey porcelain, made for burning incense and
+perfumes, from whose stony jaws the thick smoke comes out on the right
+and left in slowly curling strings. His expression did not change when
+he saw her, and as he stood with his back to the light, his small eyes
+were quite invisible in his face.
+
+"What news?" he asked calmly, as he closed the door and came forward
+into the room. "Is all going well?"
+
+His breath, as he spoke, blew the clouds of smoke from his face in thin
+puffs.
+
+"If you wish things to go well," answered Matilde, "leave everything to
+me. Do not interfere. You have an unlucky hand."
+
+She sat down in the corner of the sofa, taking a book from the table,
+but not yet opening it. He smoked in silence for a moment.
+
+"Yes," he said, presently. "I have been unfortunate. But I have great
+confidence in you, Matilde--great confidence."
+
+"That is fortunate," replied his wife, coldly. "It would be hard, if
+there were no confidence on either side."
+
+"Yes. Of course, you have none in me?"
+
+He laughed suddenly, and the sound was jarring and startling, like the
+unexpected breaking of plates in a quiet room. Matilde's lips quivered
+and her brow contracted spasmodically. She hated his voice at all times,
+as she hated him and all that belonged to him and his being; but during
+the past twenty-four hours he had developed this strange laugh which set
+her teeth on edge every time she heard it.
+
+"What is the matter with you?" she asked impatiently. "Why do you laugh
+in that way?"
+
+"Did I laugh?" he inquired, by way of answer. "It was unconscious. But
+my voice was never musical. However, in the present state of our family
+affairs, a little laughter might divert our thoughts. Have you seen
+Bosio to-day? Why did he not come to luncheon? I hope he is not ill,
+just at this moment."
+
+Matilda 'placed' her voice carefully, as a singer would do, before she
+answered.
+
+"He is not ill," she said. "He was here an hour ago. I did not ask him
+why he did not come to luncheon, because it did not concern me."
+
+"Well? And the rest?"
+
+"The rest? How anxious you are!" she exclaimed scornfully. "The rest is
+as well as ill can be. I think he will marry Veronica."
+
+"I should suppose so, if she will marry him," observed Macomer. "It
+would be as sensible to doubt that a starving man would take bread, as
+to question whether a poor man will accept a fortune, especially in such
+an agreeable shape. It is quite another matter, whether the fortune will
+give itself to the poor man. What does Veronica say? Is she pleased with
+the idea?"
+
+"Moderately. She has not refused. She wishes to think about it."
+
+"I hope that she will not think too long. To-day is the tenth of
+December. There are just three weeks. By the bye, Matilde, I hope you
+have put the will in a safe place. Where is it?"
+
+Matilde paused two seconds before she answered. Though she could not
+imagine in what way Gregorio could improve his desperate position by
+getting the will out of her hands, nor by tampering with it, of which
+she knew him to be quite capable, yet, on general principles, she
+distrusted him so wholly and profoundly that she determined to deceive
+him as to the place in which she kept it. Being clever at concealing
+things, she began by showing it to him. She rose, took a key from behind
+a photograph on the mantelpiece, and unlocked the drawer of her
+writing-table. The will lay there, folded in a big envelope.
+
+"Here it is," she said. "Do you wish to look over it again?"
+
+She drew it half out of the cover and held it up before him. He
+recognized the document and seemed satisfied.
+
+"Oh! no," he answered. "I know it by heart. I only wished to know where
+it was."
+
+"Very well; it is here," said Matilde, putting it back and locking the
+drawer again. "I generally carry the key about with me," she added
+carelessly, "but I have no pocket in this gown, so I laid it behind that
+photograph. It is not a very good place for it, is it?"
+
+She hesitated, holding the key in her hand, and looking about the room
+while he watched her. The woman's enormous power of deception showed
+itself in the spontaneous facility with which she went through a
+complicated little scene, quite improvised, in order to mislead her
+husband. She knew that he himself would suggest some place for the key
+to lie in.
+
+"Put it under the edge of the carpet in the corner near the door," he
+suggested. "You can easily turn the carpet up a little between the
+rings."
+
+"That is a good idea," she said. "It is as well that you should know
+where it is, in case anything were to happen to me."
+
+She was already in the corner, and she thrust the key under the doubled
+edge of the crimson carpet.
+
+"You are ingenious," she observed drily, as she rose to her feet. "I
+should not have thought of that. It is a pity that you have not been
+able to apply your ingenuity better in other ways, too. It has been
+wasted."
+
+"I am not sure," answered Macomer, thoughtfully. "If Bosio marries
+Veronica, our position will be a very good one, considering the
+misfortunes through which we have passed. If he should not, and if
+Veronica should die, it will be much better. I am not sure but that, if
+I had no affection for the girl, I might prefer that she should die."
+
+Matilde glanced at him sideways, uneasily.
+
+"We will not speak of that," she said, as though it were a disagreeable
+subject.
+
+"No."
+
+Then, without warning, his jarring, crashing laughter filled the room
+again for a moment, and she started as she heard it, and looked round
+nervously.
+
+"I really wish you would not laugh in that way," she said, with a frown.
+"There is nothing to laugh at, I assure you."
+
+"I did not know that I laughed," said Macomer, indifferently. "That is
+the second time in a quarter of an hour. How odd it would be if I were
+to laugh unconsciously in that way when--" He seemed to check the words
+that were coming.
+
+"When, for instance?" asked Matilde, not guessing what was passing in
+his mind.
+
+"At the funeral," he answered shortly. Matilde started again, and looked
+at him anxiously. She had resumed her seat after she had hidden the key,
+but she now rose and went to him. He was still standing before the
+window, though he had finished his cigarette and had thrown away the end
+of it. She stood before him a moment before she spoke, fixing her eyes
+severely on his face.
+
+"Control yourself!" she said sternly. "I understand that you are nervous
+and over-strained. That is no reason for behaving like a fool."
+
+He also paused an instant before speaking. Then, all at once, his
+features assumed an expression of docility, not at all natural to him.
+
+"Yes," he answered, "I will try. I think you are quite right. I really
+am very much over-strained in these days."
+
+Matilde was surprised by his change of manner, but was glad to find that
+she could control him so easily.
+
+"It will pass," she said more gently. "You will be better in a day or
+two, when everything is settled."
+
+"Yes--when everything is settled. But meanwhile, my dear, perhaps it
+would be better, if you should notice anything strange in my behaviour,
+like my laughing in this absurd way, for instance, just to look at me
+without saying anything--you understand--it will recall me to myself. I
+am convinced that it is only absence of mind, brought on by great
+anxiety. But people are spiteful, you know, and somebody might think
+that I was losing my mind."
+
+"Yes," she answered gravely. "If you laugh in that way, without any
+reason, somebody might think so. I will try and call your attention to
+it, if I can."
+
+"Thank you," said Macomer, with his unpleasant smile. "I think I will go
+and lie down now, for I feel tired."
+
+He turned from her, and made a few steps towards the door. He did not
+walk like a man tired, for he held himself as erect as ever, with his
+head thrown back, and his narrow shoulders high and square.
+Nevertheless, Matilde was anxious.
+
+"You do not feel ill, do you?" she asked, before he had reached the
+door.
+
+He stopped, half turning back.
+
+"No--oh, no! I do not feel ill. Pray do not be anxious, my dear. I will
+take a little aconite for my heart, and then I will lie down for an hour
+or two."
+
+"I did not know that you had been converted to homoeopathy," said
+Matilde, indifferently. "But, of course, if it does you good, take the
+aconite, by all means."
+
+"I do not take it in homoeopathic doses," answered Gregorio. "It is the
+tincture, and I sometimes take as much as thirty or forty drops of it in
+water. Of course, that would be too much for a person not used to taking
+it. But it is a very good medicine. Indeed, I should advise you to take
+it, too, if you ever have any trouble with your heart."
+
+"How does it affect one?" asked Matilde, turning her face from him, and
+speaking indifferently.
+
+"It lowers the action of the heart. Of course, one has to be careful. I
+suppose that one or two hundred drops would stop the heart altogether,
+but a little of it is excellent for palpitations. Do you suffer from
+them? Should you like some? I have a large supply, for I always use it.
+I can give you a small bottle, if you like."
+
+"No," answered Matilde, still looking away from him, towards the
+photographs on the mantelpiece. "I am afraid of those things. They get
+into the system, as arsenic does, and mercury, and such things."
+
+"Not at all," said Macomer. "You are quite mistaken. That is the
+peculiarity of those vegetable--those strong vegetable medicines. They
+are quite untraceable in the system, and altogether defy chemistry."
+
+Matilde was silent a moment.
+
+"Well," she answered, with an air of indifference, "I have a tendency to
+a little palpitation of the heart, and if you will give me a bottle of
+your medicine, I will try it once. It can do no harm, I suppose."
+
+"Not in small quantities. I will bring it to you by and by."
+
+"Very well."
+
+He went out, and a moment later she heard his dreadful laugh outside. In
+an instant she reached the door, opened it, and called after him:--
+
+"Gregorio! Do not laugh!"
+
+But he was gone, and there was no one in the passage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Veronica did not appear at dinner that evening, but remained in her
+room, sending word to the countess that she had a headache and wished to
+be alone. Matilde thought it not unnatural that the girl should wish to
+reflect in solitude upon the grave problem which had been given her for
+consideration. It would be wiser, too, not to disturb her, but to leave
+her to herself to reach her own conclusions. Matilde knew that Veronica
+had considerable gifts of contrariety, and that it would be a mistake to
+press her too closely for a definite answer. Besides, it was always a
+tradition in such cases that a young girl should have, in name at least,
+perfect independence of action, and the ultimate right to refuse an
+offer or accept it.
+
+It was hard to sit still at the dinner table and behave with an
+appearance of being reasonable, while knowing that the fate of the
+household depended upon the answer of the young girl--from the personal
+liberty of two out of the three persons who sat at the meal, to the
+disposal of the forks and spoons with which they were eating, and the
+roof over their heads. It was very hard even to make a pretence of
+swallowing a little food, when all three knew the truth, and none dared
+to refer to it in any way lest the servants should guess at what was
+taking place. They spent a terribly uncomfortable hour in one another's
+society. The two men exchanged indifferent remarks. Matilde occasionally
+said something, but her mind ran constantly on absurd details, such as
+the incident of the hiding of the will. As soon as her husband had left
+her, she had taken it from the drawer, relocking the latter, and again
+placing the key under the carpet. Then she had taken the will into her
+dressing-room and had hidden it temporarily in another drawer. To
+distract her mind during dinner, she tried to think of a better place
+for it, and at last determined to unscrew the wooden back of a large old
+silver mirror which stood on her dressing-table, and to lay the two open
+sheets of the document upon the back of the looking-glass. When it was
+all screwed up again, it would not be easy to find Veronica's will.
+Matilde also thought of the aconite which Gregorio had recommended her
+to keep, and of where she could put it, out of the way of the servants.
+
+Once, towards the end of dinner, Gregorio's terrifying laugh broke out
+suddenly, as the butler was offering him something. The man started back
+a little and stared, and the spoon and fork clattered to the ground over
+the edge of the silver dish. Bosio started, too, but Matilde fixed her
+eyes sternly on Gregorio's face. He saw that she looked at him, and he
+nodded, suddenly assuming the expression of docility she had noticed for
+the first time in the afternoon.
+
+Before they left the table they were all three in that excruciating
+state of rawness of the nerves, in which a man has the sensation that
+his brain is a violent explosive which a single jarring sound or word
+must ignite and blow to atoms, like a bomb-shell.
+
+And all the while Veronica sat peacefully in her room, before her fire,
+wrapped in a loose soft dressing-gown, her little feet upon the fender
+before her and a book in her hand. A lamp in an upright sliding stand
+was on one side of her, and on the other stood a small table. From time
+to time her maid brought her something from dinner, of which she ate a
+mouthful or two between two paragraphs of her novel.
+
+It was a great pleasure to her to dine in this way, alone, but it was
+one she rarely had an opportunity of indulging. Even when her aunt and
+uncle dined out she generally had her dinner in the dining-room with
+Bosio, who scarcely ever went into society at all. On such occasions
+they generally sat together half an hour after the meal was over, before
+separating, and it was then that they really enjoyed each other's
+conversation. It was very rarely that Veronica yielded to her wish to
+be alone and pleaded a more or less imaginary indisposition in order to
+stay in her room. Even then, she was not quite sure of being alone for
+the whole evening, for Matilde sometimes came in after dinner and
+remained with her for half an hour. It had always been the countess's
+habit to show the greatest concern and consideration for her niece. But
+to-night Veronica knew that she should not be disturbed; for she
+understood that this was to be an important epoch in her life, upon
+which all the future must depend, and that, since she had asked time for
+consideration, Matilde would not intrude upon her solitude. Knowing that
+she had as many hours before her as she pleased to take, she began the
+arduous task of self-examination by greedily reading a novel which Bosio
+had given her two days earlier, and which she had not opened. Somehow,
+she fancied that while she was reading her mind would decide itself. The
+immediate question was not really whether she should accept Bosio or
+not, but whether she should go again on the morrow to her friend Bianca
+Corleone, between eleven and, twelve o'clock. That Gianluca della Spina
+would be there, she had not a doubt, and the idea of going there to meet
+him presented itself to her mind as a dangerous and mad adventure. If
+she hesitated, however, it was not on account of meeting the man who was
+dying of love for her, but rather for fear of what Taquisara might
+think of her if she thus answered his summons to the interview. He had
+promised that he would not be present, and this gave her courage; but
+Bianca would see and understand, for Bianca had first spoken to her of
+Gianluca, that very morning, and as for Taquisara, he would, of course,
+soon know all about it from his friend.
+
+The arguments in favour of going were very strong, since she was asked
+to say, at short notice, whether she would marry Bosio Macomer or not.
+In all that Matilde had told Bosio the elder woman had been quite right.
+Veronica was strongly prejudiced in his favour, and what Taquisara had
+managed to say in a few words about the interested nature of the
+proposal, not only had little weight with Veronica, but was the only
+point which had not pleased her in her interview with the Sicilian.
+After all, he had attacked her only near relatives in hinting, and more
+than hinting, that they wished to gain possession of her wealth. She was
+really ignorant of the fact that Cardinal Campodonico had so rarely even
+made a pretence of inquiring about the state of her fortune. She met him
+occasionally, and he never failed to say something pleasant to her,
+which she afterwards remembered. Whenever Gregorio Macomer spoke to her
+of business, he used the cardinal's name to give weight to his
+statements, and Veronica naturally supposed that the princely prelate
+was informed of all that took place, and approved of everything which
+Macomer did. It was no wonder that she turned a deaf ear to Taquisara's
+warning, which, as coming from Gianluca's friend, seemed calculated
+purposely to influence her against marrying Bosio.
+
+In reality, and apart from the little superficial argumentation with
+which Veronica had diverted her own mind during the late hours of the
+afternoon, she had made up her mind that before seriously considering
+the question of marrying Bosio, she would see Gianluca and give him just
+such an opportunity of speaking with her alone, as she had given his
+friend Taquisara. There was really much directness of understanding and
+purpose in her young character, together with a fair share of tenacity;
+for, as Matilde had told Bosio, Veronica was a Serra, which was at least
+equivalent to saying that she was not an insignificant person of weak
+will and feeble intelligence. She was indeed the last of her name, but
+the race had not decayed. It was by accident and by force of
+circumstances that it had come to be represented by the solitary young
+girl who sat reading a novel over her fire on that evening, caring very
+little for the fact that she was a very great personage, related to many
+royal families, a Grandee of Spain and a Princess of the Holy Roman
+Empire, all in her own right alone, as Veronica Serra--all of which
+advantages Taquisara had hastily recapitulated to her that morning. So
+long as she should live, the race was certainly not extinct, nor worn
+out; for she had as much vitality as all the tribe of the Spina family
+taken together. She was not, indeed, conscious of her untried strength,
+for she had never yet had any opportunity of using it; and in the matter
+of the will, which was the only one that had yet arisen in which she
+might have tried herself, she had yielded in the simple desire to get
+rid of a perpetual importunity. Beyond that she had attached very little
+importance to it. Her aunt might be miserly, but Veronica, in her youth
+and health, could not think it even faintly probable that she should die
+before the elder woman and leave the latter her fortune. Taquisara's
+hasty counsel had therefore fallen in barren ground. She scouted the
+idea that Gregorio Macomer had ruined himself in speculations, for she
+believed him to be a man of extraordinary caution, and probably
+something of a miser.
+
+Taquisara had therefore not prejudiced her at all against Bosio, nor
+against the idea of marrying the latter. And Matilde, as has been said,
+was quite right in supposing that Veronica would see much in favour of
+the marriage.
+
+Bosio was distinctly a desirable man for a husband. Nine women out of
+ten would have admitted this without hesitation. The strongest argument
+against the statement seemed to lie in the fact that there were a few
+faintly grey streaks in his thick and silky hair. For the rest, whatever
+he chose to say of himself, he was still within the limits of what one
+may call second youth. He was only between fifteen and sixteen years
+older than Veronica, and such a difference of age between man and wife
+does not generally begin to be felt as a disadvantage until the man is
+nearly sixty. He was not at all a worn-out dandy, with no illusions, and
+no constitution to speak of; for circumstances, as well as his own sober
+tastes, had caused him to lead a quiet and restful life, admirably
+adapted to his sound but delicately organized nature. He was decidedly
+good-looking, especially in a city where beauty is almost the exclusive
+distinction of the other sex. His figure, though slightly inclined to
+stoutness, was still graceful, and he carried himself with a good
+bearing and a quiet manner, which, might well pass for dignity. So much
+for his appearance. Intellectually, in Veronica's narrow experience of
+the world, he was quite beyond comparison with any one she knew. It is
+true that she really knew hardly any one. But her own intelligence
+enabled her to judge with tolerable fairness of his capacities, and she
+had found these varied and broadly developed, precisely in the direction
+of her own tastes.
+
+Lastly, Matilde was right in counting upon the existing intimacy as a
+factor in the case. The idea of being suddenly betrothed to marry an
+almost total stranger was as strongly repugnant to Veronica as it seems
+to be attractive to most girls of her age and class in Southern Italy.
+
+The fact is, perhaps, that the majority of such young girls learn to
+think of themselves as being sure to lead hopeless and helpless lives,
+unless they are married; and as very few of them possess such
+attractions or advantages as to make it a positive certainty that they
+can marry well, they grow up with the idea that it is better to take the
+first chance than to risk waiting for a second, which may never come. To
+these, marriage is a very uncertain lottery; and if they draw a prize,
+they are not easily persuaded to throw it back into fate's bag, and play
+for another. The very element of uncertainty lends excitement to the
+game, and they readily attribute all sorts of perfections to the
+imaginary stranger who is to be the partner of their lives.
+
+But in this, Veronica's ideas were quite different. She had assuredly not
+been brought up in vanity and pride of station, and though naturally
+proud, she was not at all vain. From her childhood, however, she had
+received something of that sort of constant consideration which is the
+portion of those born to exalted fortunes. She had never had less of it,
+perhaps, than in her aunt's house; for the Countess Macomer was not
+only of her own race and name, and therefore too near to her to show her
+any such little formalities of respect, but had also, as a matter of
+policy and with considerable tact, managed to keep the dominant position
+in her own house. She had shut out the little court of young friends who
+would very probably have gathered round her niece--acquaintances of
+Veronica's convent days, older than herself, but anxious enough to be
+called her friends--and the tribe of men, old and young, who, in the
+extremely complicated relationships of the Neapolitan nobility, claimed
+some right to be treated as cousins and connexions of the family. All
+these Matilde had strenuously kept away, isolating Veronica as much as
+possible from young people of her own age, and proportionately
+diminishing both the girl's power to choose a husband for herself and
+her appreciation of her own right to make the choice. Nevertheless,
+Veronica knew that she had that right, and she intended to exercise it.
+Unconsciously, however, her judgment had been guided towards the
+selection of Bosio, so that she was now by no means so free an agent as
+she supposed herself to be. She did not love him at all; but she liked
+him very much, and admired him, and since it was time for her to be
+married, she was strongly inclined to choose for her husband the only
+man of her acquaintance whom she both admired and liked.
+
+These long and tedious explanations are necessary in order to explain
+how it came about that Veronica Serra, with her great position and vast
+estates, seriously thought of uniting herself with such a comparatively
+obscure personage as Count Bosio Macomer. Taquisara had very fairly
+described the latter's position to her that morning as that of an
+insignificant poor gentleman, in no point of name or fortune the
+superior of five hundred others, and who might naturally be supposed to
+covet the dignities and the wealth which Veronica could confer upon
+him. But Veronica had resented both the description and the suggestions
+which had accompanied it, which showed well enough, how strong her
+inclination really was.
+
+On the other side, there remained the impression made upon her by what
+Taquisara had said for Gianluca, and last of all the impression made
+upon her by Taquisara himself, as a man, and as a standard by which to
+measure other men in the future.
+
+With regard to Gianluca, Veronica was indeed curious, but she was also
+somewhat sceptical. She could not, of course, say surely that a young
+man might not die of love for a girl whom he scarcely knew; and among
+the acquaintances of her family she remembered at least one case in
+converse, where a morbid maiden of eighteen years had died because she
+was not allowed to marry the man she loved. Even there, it had been
+hinted that the girl had caught a bad cold which had fastened upon her
+delicate lungs. It was doubtless a romantic story, and if anything
+appealed to her for Gianluca, it was the romance in his case. Her
+reading had been very limited as yet, and the book she was reading so
+eagerly was a French translation of the Bride of Lammermoor. The romance
+of it spoke directly to her imagination; but when the book was closed
+she did not believe that she had a romantic disposition. It is an
+indisputable fact that the people to whom the strangest things happen
+never regard themselves as romantic characters, whatever others may
+think of them. They are, indeed, more often active and daring people, to
+whom what others think extraordinary seems quite natural and easy. They
+make the events out of which humanity's appetite for romance is fed, and
+become, to humanity, themselves the unconscious embodiments of romance
+itself. In her heart, therefore, Veronica was a little sceptical about
+the reality of the terrific passion by which, according to Taquisara,
+his friend was consumed. She recalled his face distinctly, as she had
+seen him half a dozen times in the world, and she thought the definition
+of him which she had given Bianca Corleone a very just one. He reminded
+her of one of Perugino's angels--with a youthful beard. If angels had
+beards, she thought, without a smile, they would have beards like
+Gianluca della Spina's, very youthful, scanty, curling, and so fair as
+to be almost colourless.
+
+She remembered that he had looked at her rather sadly, and had spoken
+little and to no purpose, making futile remarks about juvenile
+amusements, and one or two harmless little jokes which she had quite
+forgotten, but to which he had referred at the next short meeting, at
+some other house, on the corner of some other similar sofa. That was all
+that she could call up out of her memories. She had thought him insipid.
+Once she remembered distinctly that while he had been talking to her,
+she had been watching Bianca Corleone's handsome brother, Gianforte,
+whom she had seen only once before, and that when her companion had
+asked her to agree with him, she had said 'yes,' without having the
+least idea of what he had been saying. He had produced only a very
+slight and transparent shadow amongst the figures of her recollections.
+It was a severe tax on her credulity to try and believe that he was
+dying for love of her. If it were true, she thought, why had he not had
+the courage to make her understand it? The fact that the offer made by
+his family had not been communicated to her might have been hard to
+explain, but she was not disturbed for want of an explanation. She did
+not care for the man in the least, and there might be fifty reasons why
+her aunt and uncle should think him undesirable. On the whole, she
+believed that Taquisara had enormously exaggerated the state of the
+case. The Sicilian himself impressed her as singularly honest and bold,
+but she was much more ready to believe that the friend who had sent him
+might have interested views, than that Bosio Macomer, whom she liked and
+admired, was anxious to get possession of her fortune.
+
+Taquisara himself had struck her as something new in the way of a man,
+of a sort such as she had never seen nor dreamt of, and her mind dwelt
+long on the recollection of the interview. In some way which she could
+not explain, she vaguely connected him with the book she was now
+reading--the Bride of Lammermoor; in other words, he appeared to her in
+the light of a romantic character, and the first that had ever come
+within the circle of her experience. His recklessness of formalities, of
+all the limits supposed to be set upon the conversation of mere
+acquaintance, of what she might or might not think of him individually,
+so long as she would listen to what he had to say for his friend, seemed
+to her to belong to a type of humanity with which she had never come in
+contact. He, and he only, as yet had stirred some thought of another
+existence than the one which seemed to lie straight before her,--a
+broad, plain road, as the wife of Bosio.
+
+Of love, indeed, there was nothing in her heart, for any man. Within her
+all was yet dim and still as a sweet summer's night before the dawning.
+In her firmament still shone the myriad stars that were her maiden
+thoughts, not yet lost in the high twilight, to be forgotten when love's
+sun should rise, in peace, or storm, as rise he must. Under her feet,
+low, virgin flowers still bloomed in dusk, such as she should find not
+again in the rose gardens or the thorn-land that lay before her. In
+maidenhood's tender eyes the greater tenderness of woman awaited still
+the coming day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+The weather changed during the night, and when Veronica awoke in the
+morning the gusty southwest was driving the rain from the roof of the
+opposite house into a grey whirl of spray that struck across swiftly, to
+scourge the thick panes with a thousand lashes of watery lace.
+
+As Veronica watched her maid opening the heavy old-fashioned shutters,
+one by one, the sight of each wet window hurt her a little more,
+progressively, until, when all were visible, she could have cried out of
+sheer disappointment. For she had unconsciously been looking forward to
+another day like yesterday, calm and clear and peaceful with much
+sunshine. But even in Naples it cannot always be spring in
+December--though it generally is in January. She had hoped for just such
+another day as the preceding one. She had remembered how she and
+Taquisara had stood in the sunlight by the marble steps in Bianca
+Corleone's garden, and she had expected to stand there again this
+morning with Gianluca, to hear what he had to say.
+
+That was impossible, however, and while she was slowly dressing she
+tried to decide what she should do. It was easy enough to make up her
+mind that she must see Gianluca, but it was much more difficult to
+determine exactly how she should find an excuse for going out alone on
+such a morning. It seemed probable that, whatever she might propose as a
+reason, her aunt would immediately wish to accompany her. They had given
+her the afternoon and the evening of the previous day in which to think
+over her answer, and Matilde might naturally enough expect to hear it
+this morning. In any case she should not be able to order the carriage
+and slip out alone as she had done the first time. She had meant to go
+out on foot with her maid, and then to take a cab in the street and
+drive to the villa. But in such weather as this she could not do such a
+thing without exciting remark. It was a week-day, and there were no
+masses to hear, as an excuse, by the time she was dressed.
+
+She watched herself in the glass, while her maid was doing her hair. The
+dull light of the rainy morning made her own face look grey and sallow.
+She had not slept very well, and her eyes were heavy, she thought. The
+glaring whiteness of the thing she had thrown over her shoulders while
+her hair was being brushed made her look worse. She had little vanity
+about her appearance, as a rule, but on that particular day she would
+have been glad to look her best.
+
+Not that she at all believed that Gianluca was dying for her; but he was
+certainly in love with her. Of that she felt sure, for she could not
+suppose that Taquisara himself was not convinced of the fact. Nor had
+she the smallest beginning of a tender sentimentality about the
+fair-haired young man. Nevertheless, if she was to meet him, she did not
+wish to be positively ugly, as she seemed to be to herself when she
+looked into the mirror, facing the dulness of the rain-beaten window.
+Whether she herself was ever to care for him or not, she somehow did not
+wish to disappoint him by her appearance, and the undefined fear lest
+she might affected her spirits. Then, before she had quite finished
+dressing, Matilde Macomer knocked at the door and came in. She was
+looking far worse than Veronica, and from the absence of colour in her
+face, her eyes seemed to be more near together than ever. Her appearance
+made Veronica feel a little more hopeful, and the young girl said to
+herself that after all the light of a rainy day was unbecoming to every
+one, and much more so to a woman of forty than to a girl of twenty.
+
+She did not wish to be alone with her aunt if she could help it, and she
+promptly invented several little things for her maid to do, in order to
+keep the latter in the room. The maid was a thin, dark woman of middle
+age, from the mountains. She was a widow, and her husband had been an
+under-steward on the Serra estate at Muro, who had been brutally
+murdered five years earlier by half a dozen peasants whose rents had
+been raised, when he endeavoured to exact payment. The rents had been
+raised by Gregorio Macomer, and the woman knew it, and remembered. But
+she was very quiet and grave, and seemed to be satisfied with her
+position. She was certainly devoted to Veronica. Matilde glanced at her
+two or three times, as though wishing her to go, but Veronica paid no
+attention to the hint.
+
+After exchanging a few words with her niece the countess began to walk
+up and down nervously and seeming to hesitate as to what she should say.
+She was horribly anxious, and very much afraid of betraying her anxiety.
+She knew how dangerous it might be to press Veronica for an answer
+before it was ready. And Veronica stood before a tall dressing-mirror,
+making disjointed remarks about the weather, between her instructions to
+her maid, while apparently altogether dissatisfied with her appearance.
+First she wished a little pin at her throat, and then she gave it back
+to the woman and told her to look for another which she well knew would
+be hard to find. Then she quarrelled with a belt she wore,--for just
+then belts were in fashion, as they are periodically without the
+slightest reason,--and she thought that perhaps she would not wear one
+at all, and she asked Matilde's opinion.
+
+The countess forced herself to consider the matter with an appearance of
+interest. But she was not without resources, and she suddenly bethought
+her of a belt of her own which Veronica might try, and sent the maid for
+it, apparently oblivious of the fact that, being fitted to her own
+imposing figure, it would be far too long for her niece. As soon as the
+woman had shut the door Matilde seized her opportunity.
+
+"Have you come to any conclusion, Veronica dear?" she asked, making her
+voice full of a gentle preoccupation.
+
+"I have not seen Bosio," answered the young girl. "How can I decide,
+until I have seen him?"
+
+"I thought that you did not wish to see him last night--"
+
+"No--not last night. I wished to be alone--but--one of these days, I
+should like to talk to him."
+
+"One of these days! To-day, dear. Why not? He is naturally anxious for
+your answer--"
+
+"Is he? It seems so strange! We have seen each other every day, for so
+long--and I never supposed--"
+
+She broke off, not, apparently, from any shyness about going into the
+subject, but because she was very much interested in the fastening of
+the second pin she had tried.
+
+"I suppose it is much better not to wear any jewelry at all," she said,
+with exasperating indifference.
+
+"Until you are married!" answered Matilde, who was not to be kept from
+the matter in hand. "You see, everything turns upon that," she
+continued, with a low laugh. "The sooner it is decided, the sooner you
+may wear your jewels. No," she went on rapidly. "Of course you never
+suspected that Bosio loved you, and he would have been very wrong to let
+you know it, until your uncle and I had given our permission. But he was
+diffident even about mentioning the matter to us. You cannot have known
+him so long without having discovered that he has great delicacy of
+feeling. He did not like to suggest the marriage. You will see when you
+talk with him after this. I have very much doubt whether he will have
+the boldness to speak very directly--"
+
+"How absurd!" exclaimed Veronica. "As though we did not know each other
+intimately!"
+
+"Yes, but that is the man's nature, and I like it in him. You can easily
+manage to let him understand at the first word what you have decided.
+But if you would tell me first,--especially if you mean to refuse,--it
+would be better. I myself wish only the happiness of you both. You must
+be absolutely free in your decision. After all, I daresay that you will
+refuse him."
+
+With great mastery of her tone and manner, she spoke in an indifferent
+way. She was trying the dangerous experiment of playing a little upon
+Veronica's contrariety. The young girl laughed.
+
+"That is not at all certain!" she answered. "Only I do not see why you
+should all be in such a hurry. If Bosio has been in love with me so long
+as you say, he will remain in love long enough for me to think over the
+matter, will he not? If he has been in a state of anxiety for weeks, it
+will not hurt him to be anxious for one day more--or a week more--or
+even a month. After all, it is for all my life, you know, Aunt Matilde.
+I must see how the idea looks when I am used to it. I am not a child,
+and I am not foolishly frightened at the idea of being married, nor out
+of my mind with joy at it, either, like a girl of the people."
+
+"Of course not," said Matilde, growing a little pale with sheer
+nervousness.
+
+"I daresay that we should be very happy together," continued Veronica.
+"But how can I possibly be sure of it? No--I suppose that one is never
+sure of anything until one has tried, but one may feel almost sure that
+one is going to be sure; that is what I want, before I say 'yes.' Do you
+wonder?"
+
+"Oh, no!" answered the countess, quickly agreeing with her. "On the
+contrary--"
+
+At this point the conversation was interrupted by the return of the
+maid. The belt, as was to be expected, did not fit at all, and Veronica
+put on her own again. The maid moved about the room, setting things in
+order.
+
+"Give him a sign, if you wish him to speak when you meet," said Matilde,
+in a low voice. "It will be so much easier for him. Wear a flower in
+your frock to-night at dinner--any flower. May I tell him that?"
+
+"Yes," answered Veronica, for it seemed a charitable suggestion so far
+as Bosio was concerned. "I am going out, now," she added suddenly. "May
+I have the carriage?"
+
+"Certainly. Shall we go together?"
+
+"Oh, no! I do not want you at all!" cried the young girl, frankly and
+laughing. "I have a secret. I will take Elettra with me."
+
+Elettra was the name of the maid.
+
+"Very well," replied Matilde. "I suppose you will tell me the secret
+some day. Is it connected with New Year's presents? There are three
+weeks yet. You have plenty of time."
+
+Veronica laughed again, which was undoubtedly equivalent to admitting
+her aunt's explanation, and therefore not, in theory, perfectly
+truthful. But she did not wish the countess to know that she was going
+to Bianca Corleone's house, since Matilde would of course suppose, if
+she knew it, that she was going to consult Bianca about accepting Bosio,
+which was not true either. She laughed, therefore, and said nothing,
+having got the use of the carriage, which was all she wanted.
+
+"It is horrible weather," observed Matilde, looking at the window, upon
+which the rain was beating like wet whips, making the panes rattle and
+shake.
+
+"Yes, but I want some air," answered Veronica, in a tone of decision.
+
+At such a time it was not safe to irritate the girl even about the
+smallest matter, and Matilde said nothing more, though under other
+circumstances she would have made objections. As it was not yet time to
+go out, and in order to get rid of her aunt, Veronica bade Elettra take
+out a ball gown which needed some change and improvement, Matilde
+understood well enough that it was useless to wait longer for the chance
+of being again alone with her niece, and in a few minutes she went away.
+
+On the whole, she had the impression that the prospect was very good.
+But after she had closed the door, she turned in the outer room, stood
+still a moment and looked back, allowing her face for a moment to betray
+what she felt. The expression was a strange one; for it showed doubt,
+fear, conditional hatred, and potential vengeance--a complicated state
+of mind, which the cleverest judge of human faces could hardly have
+understood from Matilde's features. Then, with bent head, and closed
+hands hanging by her sides, she went on her way.
+
+An hour later Veronica and her maid were driving through the rain
+westward, towards Bianca's villa. As they approached their destination,
+Veronica felt that she was by no means as calm and indifferent as she
+had expected to be. Yesterday, it had seemed a very simple matter to go
+to the garden, to find Gianluca there, to walk ten or twenty paces with
+him out of hearing of Bianca, and to listen to what he had to say. In a
+manner it had seemed, indeed, a wild and romantic adventure, which she
+should remember all her life. But it had looked easy to do, whereas now,
+all at once, it looked very hard. Again and again, on the way, she was
+on the point of stopping the carriage and returning. It all looked so
+different, at the last minute, from what she had expected.
+
+It was raining, and she should find Bianca indoors. Probably she would
+be sitting in her boudoir, beyond the drawing-room, and Pietro Ghisleri
+would be with her. Veronica would have to give some little excuse or
+reason for coming, on his account, even though Bianca was her intimate
+friend. Probably Gianluca would be there already, for it was past eleven
+o'clock, and Bianca would understand that his coming was the result of
+what Taquisara had said to Veronica on the previous day. She would not
+show that she understood, even to Veronica, because she was tactful, but
+Veronica knew that she was sure to blush, in spite of herself, at the
+thought that Bianca knew why she had come. Then, too, in the
+drawing-room, or the boudoir, it would not be easy to be alone with
+Gianluca. She could not get up and go and stare stupidly out of the
+window at the rain, taking him with her.
+
+She was naturally too obstinate to change her mind, and turn back; yet
+by the time the brougham drove into Bianca's gate, she really hoped that
+Gianluca might not come at all. But when she crossed the threshold of
+the house, she already hoped that he might be there. Her doubts were
+soon set at rest by the sight of his thin face and almost colourless
+beard, in the distance, as the servant opened the door of the
+drawing-room. Bianca was seated at the piano, and Gianluca was standing
+on one side of her, while Ghisleri bent over her on the other, looking
+at the sheet of music before her. She rose, as Veronica entered,--a
+queenly young figure, with a lovely, fateful face. To-day her eyes were
+dark and shadowy, and Veronica thought that she must have been crying in
+the night.
+
+Gianluca had started visibly when Veronica had appeared, but she did not
+look at him until she had kissed Bianca, and had spoken to Ghisleri, who
+now, for the first time, understood the meaning of Gianluca's unexpected
+morning visit. Bianca had guessed it almost immediately, and had
+purposely sat down to the piano to look over the music. It would seem
+natural, she thought, when Veronica came, that she should resume her
+seat, and play or sing, with Ghisleri to turn over the pages for her,
+while Veronica and Gianluca could talk. She was too loyal to her friend,
+and too discreet, to have given Ghisleri a hint, even had she been able
+to do so after Gianluca had come. But events proved to her that she was
+right.
+
+When Veronica, at last, spoke to the younger man, there was an evident
+constraint in her manner. He, on his part, blushed suddenly pink, and
+then turned white again, almost in a moment. He put out his hand
+nervously, and then withdrew it, not finding Veronica's, but before he
+had quite taken it back, hers came forward, and hesitated in the air.
+Then he took it, and both smiled in momentary embarrassment over the
+incident, and a little at the thought of having shaken hands at all, for
+it is a custom reserved in the south for married women.
+
+"Do you mind if I go on trying this song?" asked Bianca, sitting down to
+the piano again. "Talk as much as you please," she added. "I do not know
+it--I only wish to look it over."
+
+Veronica was surprised at the ease and simplicity with which matters
+were arranged, and in a few seconds she found herself sitting beside
+Gianluca, on a narrow sofa at some distance from Bianca and Ghisleri.
+Gianluca looked at her sideways, and then a moment later she looked at
+him; but their eyes did not meet. She had only glanced at him once, and
+for an instant after they had sat down, side by side, but she had got a
+good view of his face in that one look. It was evident to her that he
+was really ill, whatever might be the cause of his illness. The delicate
+features were unnaturally thin and drawn, and there were blue shadows at
+the temples such as consumptive men often have. The blue eyes were sunk
+too deep, and there were hollows above the lids, under the brows. His
+figure, too, though tall and well proportioned, had seemed frail to her
+when she had seen him standing by the piano, and his hands were
+positively emaciated.
+
+She could not help pitying him. But it is only pity for sorrow, or for
+trouble, that is akin to love, not pity for physical weakness; unless,
+perhaps, a woman is very certainly sure that such weakness is indeed the
+result of love for herself, wearing the man out night and day--and then
+the pity she feels is instantly all but love itself and in fact often
+more than love in deeds. But Veronica had no such certainty. She still
+believed that Taquisara had overshot the mark of truth. She waited for
+Gianluca to speak.
+
+"We have met--I have had the honour of meeting you--several times
+already, Donna Veronica, since you came from the convent," he said at
+last, after a little preliminary cough.
+
+"Oh yes!" answered Veronica, with a smile. "We have often met. I know
+you very well."
+
+"I was not quite sure whether you remembered me," he said.
+
+He looked at her, and the blood rose and fell quickly in his cheeks, and
+his hands moved uneasily as he clasped them upon one of his knees.
+
+"You must think that I have a very poor memory," observed Veronica,
+still smiling, not intentionally, but because she was young enough, and
+therefore cruel enough, to be amused by his embarrassment. "The last
+time I saw you was at the theatre, I think--at the opening night, last
+week--ten days ago--when was it?"
+
+"Yes," he answered quickly. "That was the last time I saw you; but the
+last time we spoke was at the San Giuliano's."
+
+"Was it? I do not remember. We have often talked--a little--at different
+places."
+
+"I remember very well," said Gianluca, with a good deal of emphasis and
+looking earnestly at her.
+
+Veronica tried to recall the conversation on the occasion to which he
+referred, but could not remember a word of it.
+
+"Did I say anything especial, that time?" she asked, wondering whether
+she had then unfortunately answered 'yes,' in a fit of absence of mind,
+to some question of hidden import which he had perhaps addressed to
+her.
+
+"Oh yes!" he answered promptly. "You told me that you liked white roses
+better than red ones. You see, I have a good memory."
+
+"That was a tremendously important statement." Veronica laughed,
+somewhat relieved by the information.
+
+"I always remember everything you say," said Gianluca. "I think I know
+by heart all you have ever said to me."
+
+He spoke with a sort of grave and almost child-like conviction.
+
+"I shall remember everything you say to-day," he added, after a moment's
+pause.
+
+"I hope not!" exclaimed Veronica. "I sometimes say very foolish things,
+not at all worth remembering, I assure you."
+
+"But what you say is worth everything to me," he said, with another
+sudden blush, and a quick glance, while his hands twitched.
+
+He was painfully shy and embarrassed, and was producing anything but a
+favourable impression upon Veronica. She was sorry for him, indeed, in a
+superior sort of fashion, but she thought of Taquisara's bold eyes and
+strong face, and of Bosio Macomer's quiet and refined assurance of
+manner, and Gianluca seemed to her slightly ridiculous. It was in her
+blood, and she could not help it. Some of her people had been bad, and
+some good, but most of them had been strong, and she liked strength, as
+a natural consequence. Moreover, she had not enough experience of the
+world to put Gianluca at his ease; and a sort of girlish feeling that
+she must not encourage him to say too much made her answer in such a way
+as to throw him off his track.
+
+"It is very kind of you to say so," she answered lightly. "But I am sure
+I do not recollect ever saying anything important enough for you to
+remember. Take what we are saying now, for instance--"
+
+"I shall know it all, when you are gone," interrupted Gianluca, harking
+back again. "Indeed--I hope you will not think me rude or
+presumptuous--but I thought that perhaps I might meet you here--if I
+came often, I mean; for Taquisara--"
+
+"Oh yes," said Veronica, as he hesitated. "I met Baron Taquisara here
+yesterday. I daresay that he told you so."
+
+As his embarrassment had increased, hers had completely
+disappeared--which was a bad sign for him and his hopes.
+
+"Yes--yes. He told me--"
+
+Gianluca leaned back suddenly in his seat, overcome with a sort of shame
+at the thought that Taquisara had spoken to her for him, and that he
+himself could find nothing to say. His face pale and red, and his hands
+trembled.
+
+"I like your friend," said Veronica, quietly, wondering whether he felt
+ill.
+
+"Yes--I am glad," answered Gianluca. "He is a true friend, a good
+friend. If you knew him as well as I do, you would like him still
+better."
+
+Veronica thought this probable, but refrained from saying so, and
+remained silent. Bianca was touching gentle chords at the piano. Now and
+then a few words, sung in deep, soft notes, sad as the south wind,
+floated through the room, and then she and Ghisleri talked about the
+song, paying no attention whatever to the pair on the sofa.
+
+Gianluca sighed and caught his breath. Veronica glanced quickly at him,
+and then looked again at the top of Ghisleri's head, as the latter bent
+down. She had not thought that she had expected so much of the meeting.
+She certainly had not the slightest personal feeling for the man beside
+her. And yet, somehow, she was dismally disappointed. If this was the
+man who was dying of love, she infinitely preferred Bosio Macomer.
+Gianluca was evidently in bad health. He looked as though he might be in
+a decline, and he was clearly very nervous and ill at ease. But he did
+not speak at all as she supposed that a man would who was deeply in
+love. Taquisara had spoken far better. He had seemed so much in earnest
+that if he had suddenly substituted himself for Gianluca as the subject
+of his phrases, Veronica could have believed him easily enough.
+
+"Then I may hope that you will forgive me for coming here, thinking that
+I might meet you?" said the young man, with a question in his voice.
+
+"Why should you not come?" asked Veronica, not unkindly, but with the
+least possible inflexion of impatience.
+
+"There can certainly be no reason, if you are not offended," he
+answered. "But if I thought that I had offended you, by coming, I should
+never forgive myself."
+
+"But I should certainly forgive you, if you offended me unintentionally.
+Besides, there is no reason in the world why you should not come here to
+see Bianca whenever you like, if she will receive you. She goes out very
+little. She is glad to see people."
+
+He was a man born to throw away opportunities, an older woman would have
+thought; but Veronica grew impatient at his insistence upon useless
+things, and his thin, nervous hands irritated her vaguely as, looking
+down, or in front of her, she could not help seeing them clasped upon
+his knee. Once, too, she was aware that Bianca leaned to one side and
+looked towards her, round the side of the sheet of music, as though to
+see how matters were progressing. Veronica began to feel that she was in
+a ridiculous position. The hesitation and pauses and silences had made
+the brief conversation already last nearly a quarter of an hour. In that
+time Taquisara had said all he had to say. Veronica made a little
+movement, a very slight indication that she would presently leave her
+seat. Gianluca started and suddenly gazed earnestly into her face, so
+that she turned her head and met his eyes.
+
+"Please do not go yet!" he cried in a low and earnest voice that had
+real entreaty in it.
+
+"No," she answered quickly. "I am not going. But I must go soon. I
+cannot stay long, for I must go home to luncheon, and I have not talked
+with Bianca at all yet."
+
+"Yes--I know--and I must be going too," he said nervously. "But if you
+knew what it is to me to sit here beside you for a few minutes--" He
+stopped suddenly, and the colour rushed to his face.
+
+"In what way?" asked Veronica, with an impatient, womanly impulse to
+make him speak and have done with it, in order that there might be no
+more misunderstanding.
+
+"Because--because I love you, Donna Veronica!" He turned quite white as
+he found words at last. "I must say it this once, even if you never
+forgive me. This is the first happy moment I have had since I saw you
+the last time. I love you--let me tell you so before I die, and I shall
+die happy if you will forgive me, for I have dreamed of saying it, and
+longed to say it, so often. You are my whole life, and my days and
+nights only have the hours of my thoughts of you to mark them."
+
+His words came confusedly and uncontrolled, but his voice had a longing
+pathetic ring in it, as of a very hopeless appeal. Veronica had been
+startled at first, and her eyes were wide and girlish as she looked at
+him. It was the first time that any man had ever told her that he loved
+her, and for that reason it was to be memorable; but it did not seem to
+be the first time. Taquisara's manly pleading and fervent voice when he
+had spoken yesterday had left her ears dull to this real first time of
+hearing love speeches, so that this seemed the second, and the words she
+heard, after the first little shock of realizing what they were, touched
+no chord that would respond.
+
+She did not answer at first, but half unconsciously she shook her head,
+as she turned from him and looked away once more. Perhaps that was the
+most unkind thing she could have done; for it was so natural, and
+simple, and unaffected a refusal, that he could hardly be mistaken as to
+her meaning; and, after all, she had led him on to speak. She herself
+was shocked at her own heartlessness a moment later, and in one of those
+absurd concatenations of ideas which run through the mind at important
+moments, she felt as though she had been giving a merchant an infinity
+of trouble to show his wares, only to buy nothing and go away. Then,
+the brutality of the involuntary simile distressed her, too, and she
+felt that she ought to say something to destroy the effect of it on her
+own mind, as well as to comfort Gianluca. But she could not find much to
+say. Very young women rarely do, under the circumstances.
+
+"I am very sorry," she said gently.
+
+She felt that he might have a right to reproach her for coming there,
+and she was grateful to him for not doing so, having really very little
+idea of the nature of the over-submissive and humble love which sapped
+his manliness instead of rousing his courage.
+
+"Ah, I knew it!" he almost moaned, and resting his elbows upon his knees
+he covered his face with his delicate, white hands, that trembled
+spasmodically now and then. "I knew it," he repeated in his broken
+voice. "You were kind to let me speak--I kiss your hands--for your
+kindness--I thank you--"
+
+His voice broke altogether. Veronica heard a smothered sob, and glancing
+at him nervously, saw the tears trickling down between his fingers. She
+looked up quickly to see whether Bianca had noticed anything, but the
+sweet, deep voice was singing softly to the subdued chords of the piano,
+and Veronica sat quite still, waiting for Gianluca to recover his
+self-control.
+
+She felt that she pitied him, but at the same time considered him in
+some way an inferior being; and as the idea of marrying him crossed her
+mind again, her heart started in repugnance at the mere thought.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+Veronica left Bianca Corleone's house with a very painful sense of
+disappointment, and as she drove homeward through the wet streets, she
+could not get rid of Gianluca's tearful blue eyes, which seemed to
+follow her into the carriage; and in the rattling and jolting, she heard
+again and again that one weak sob which had so disturbed her. At that
+moment she would rather have gone directly back to the convent in Rome,
+to stay there for the rest of her life, than have married such an
+unmanly man as she believed him to be. His words had left her cold, his
+face had frozen her, his tears had disgusted her. She pitied him for his
+weakness, not for his love of her, and she hoped that she might never
+again hear any man speak to her as he had spoken. Nevertheless there had
+been in his tone, at the last, the doubt-splitting accent of a sharp
+truth that hurt him to tears. She wondered why he had not moved her at
+all. The day seemed more grey and wet and desolate than ever. She
+thought that everybody in the street looked draggled and disappointed.
+Near Santa Lucia she passed a wretched vender of strung filberts and
+doubtful cakes, mounting guard over his poor little handcart with a
+dilapidated umbrella, under the half-shelter of a projecting balcony. A
+couple of barefooted boys crouched on the wet pavement by the
+sea-stairs, with a piece of sacking drawn over both their heads
+together, gnawing hard-tack, and as the rain struck the stones, it
+splashed up in their faces under their sack. On the left, the coral
+shops showed their brilliant wares dimly through the rain-streaks, with
+closed glass doors through which here and there the disconsolate face of
+the shopkeeper was visible, as he stood gazing out upon the dismal,
+dripping scene. A sailor man came out of the marine headquarters at the
+turning of the Strada dei Giganti, bending his flat cap against the rain
+and burying his ears in the blue linen collar of his shirt, which was
+turned back over his thick jacket. The water splashed out from under his
+heavy shoes, to the right and left, as he walked quickly up the hill.
+Beyond that, the Piazza San Ferdinando was deserted, and the broad wet
+pavement lay flat and darkly gleaming upward to the broad, watery sky
+that stretched grey and even, without shading, like a sheet of wet
+india-rubber over all the city. Then the Toledo, where the gutters could
+not swallow the deluge, but sent their overflow in dark yellow streams
+down each side of the street--then the narrower, darker ways and lanes
+between the high houses and the low, black doorways, through the heart
+of old Naples, home at last to the Palazzo Macomer.
+
+Veronica was glad to get back to the fire in her own room, and to feel
+dry again--for seeing so much water had given her the sensation of being
+drenched. And she sat down to think over what had happened in the
+morning, trying to understand her own disappointment, because she
+believed that she had expected nothing, and therefore that she could not
+be disappointed. She was very glad to get back to her own room. So far
+as she at all knew what a home meant, the Palazzo Macomer was home to
+her, and she had no distinct recollection of any other. Gregorio and
+Matilde and Bosio were her own family, so far as she had ever known what
+to understand by the word. They were more familiar to her than any other
+people in the world possibly could be, and if she felt that she had
+little affection for her aunt and uncle, yet she knew that there was a
+bond; and she was sincerely attached to Bosio for his own sake.
+
+She had photographs of all three on the mantelpiece, in silver
+frames,--that of her aunt standing in the middle, and one of the men on
+either side. She looked at Bosio's, taking it down from its place. She
+looked at it critically, and seeing a speck of dust on the glass, just
+over the face, she passed her handkerchief over it, polishing the
+surface, and looking at it again. From the photograph any one would
+have said that Bosio was a handsome man, for he photographed well, as
+the phrase goes. His clear, pale complexion, his well-cut, refined
+features, his smooth, thick, silky hair looked singularly well against
+the smoked background, and had at once the strength and the transparency
+which make a good photograph by adding an illusion of relief to the
+flatness of mere outline and light and shade. Probably the likeness was
+flattered. But Veronica did not think so just then, coming as she did
+from a disillusionment which had affected her more strongly than she
+knew. She compared Bosio with Gianluca, in appearance, and Gianluca
+lacked almost everything which could bear comparison. She compared Bosio
+with Taquisara, and she preferred the quiet refinement of the one to the
+bold eyes and high aquiline features of the other. At least, she thought
+so. But she also preferred Taquisara to Gianluca, by many degrees of
+preference. Yet both these men were commonly spoken of as handsome.
+
+She thought of another point, too, and with her blood it was natural
+that she should think of it. If she married Bosio, he would take her
+name and titles; not she, his. She would rule the house and be
+independent--not of him, exactly, for she was fond of him and had no
+desire to be despotic over him, but of parents and elders and relations
+who would think it their right to advise and guide. All this would be
+different with Gianluca for her husband. The Della Spina were proud of
+their name and would expect her to bear it. They were numerous, too; the
+old father and mother would oppress and burden her life, and the
+brothers and sisters of Gianluca would grow up to be more or less of a
+perpetual annoyance to their elder brother's wife. Of that side of life
+her aunt had given her more than one picture, intentionally exaggerating
+a little, perhaps, for her own purposes. And from Bianca she had heard
+many things of the same kind. Married to Bosio, she would be free
+altogether from any one's interference in her household.
+
+She met them all at luncheon, and was struck by the fact that both men,
+as well as Matilde, looked pale and harassed, as though they had slept
+little. For there was little sleep or rest, except for Veronica, during
+those days of gnawing anxiety. She was struck, too, and startled, by
+Gregorio's hideous laugh, which broke out twice during the meal without
+any apparent reason. Even the servants seemed to shudder at it and
+looked at him anxiously, and Matilde's dark eyes tried to control him.
+Indeed, when she looked at him, he seemed docile enough, except that his
+face twitched very strangely as he nodded to her.
+
+But they all talked, with the evident intention of seeming at their
+ease; and in a measure they succeeded, for they were not weaklings like
+Gianluca. Bosio was by far the least strong in character, but his very
+remarkable self-possession made him their equal in the present case. On
+the previous evening, when Veronica had not been present, they had
+scarcely made an effort; but now that she was seated at table with them,
+they performed their parts conscientiously and not without success.
+
+They were encouraged, too, by Veronica's manner to Bosio. After her
+experience in the morning it was a distinct pleasure to be again in his
+society, and she talked enthusiastically to him of the Bride of
+Lammermoor--the book he had given her and which she had begun to read
+during her solitary dinner on the previous evening. She was sure of the
+response to what she said, before she said it, and it came surely
+enough. She felt that he understood her, and that she should be glad to
+talk with him every day. Several days had passed since they had been
+alone together for half an hour.
+
+She compared him with the photograph of him, too, and she came to the
+conclusion that the likeness was not so much flattered, after all. His
+unusual pallor to-day had something luminous in it, and the features, in
+two days of suffering, had grown thinner with a sort of finely chiselled
+accentuation of their natural refinement. To-day, he reminded her of
+certain portraits of Van Dyck. But when luncheon was over, she avoided
+being alone with him, for she had not yet come to any decision. It would
+be more true, perhaps, to say that she distrusted herself in the
+decision she now seemed to have reached too suddenly. For in the
+expansion of sympathy she enjoyed so much it all at once seemed to her
+that she could never marry any one but Bosio, who understood her so
+well, who anticipated what she was going to say, and knew beforehand
+what she thought upon almost any subject of conversation.
+
+She had never been exactly opposed to the idea, from the first; but now
+it took possession of her strongly, as it had never done before, and she
+might almost have taken her genuine affection for the man for love, if
+she had ever been taught to suppose that love was necessary before
+marriage. She had been far too carefully brought up in Italian ideas of
+the old school, however, to make any such self-examination necessary.
+She had been told that it was important that she should like and respect
+the man she was to marry. She had no reason for not respecting Bosio, so
+far as she knew, and she certainly liked him very much indeed.
+
+But she meant to wait until the evening, and give herself a chance to
+change her mind once more. After luncheon there was the usual
+adjournment to another room for coffee, over which the two men smoked
+cigarettes. Veronica expected that Matilde would ask her by a gesture,
+or a word in a low tone, whether she were any nearer to a conclusion
+than before, but the countess did nothing of the sort, for she was far
+too wise; and Veronica was grateful for being left entirely to her own
+thoughts in the matter. Nor did Bosio bestow upon her any questioning
+glance, nor betray his anxiety in any way except by his pallor, which he
+could not help, of course. Veronica thought that once or twice his eyes
+brightened unnaturally, in the course of conversation; and in his manner
+towards her she might have fancied that there was a shade more than
+usual of that sort of affectionate deference which all women love,
+though they love it most in the strong, and it sometimes irritates them
+a little in the weak, for a passing moment, when their caprice would
+rather be ruled than flattered. Bosio made no attempt to be alone with
+her, and at the end of half an hour both he and his brother departed to
+their own quarters.
+
+Even then, when she was alone with Veronica, Matilde did not return to
+the subject which was uppermost and above all important in her mind.
+With amazing tact and self-control she talked pleasantly enough, though
+she managed to place herself with her back to the light, so that
+Veronica could not see her expression clearly. At last she rose and said
+that she must go out. The weather had improved a little, and she asked
+Veronica to go with her. But the young girl had no desire to be driven
+through Naples in a closed carriage a second time that day, and she went
+away to her own room, with the intention of spending a quiet afternoon
+by the fire with her novel.
+
+On the previous evening she had read a little over her dinner, and from
+time to time during the short evening she had returned to the book,
+feeling that it was easier to read than to think, and much more
+satisfactory. She took the volume now, but she could not read at all.
+She was overcome by a wish which seemed wholly unaccountable, to send
+for Bosio to meet her in the drawing-room, and to tell him outright that
+she was willing to marry him. Nothing but maidenly self-respect
+prevented her from doing so at once, and the hours seemed very long
+before dinner. Many times she rose from her seat by the fire and moved
+about her room in an objectless way, touching things uselessly and
+looking for things which were not lost, which she did not want, but
+which she could not find. She wished that she had her great jewels. She
+would have tried them on before the mirror--anything to pass the time.
+But they were all safely stored in one of the safest banks.
+
+She grew more and more restless as the minutes passed and the dinner
+hour approached. Looking at herself in the glass, she said that her
+cheeks were no longer sallow, as they had seemed to be in the morning.
+There was a fresh colour in them, and it was becoming to her and pleased
+her. Her soft hair had fallen a little upon each side of her brows, and
+her eyes were brilliantly bright. She looked at them when the twilight
+was coming on, and they seemed to shine, with wide pupils, having a
+light of their own.
+
+At last the time came. Before she rang for her maid, who had brought
+lights and had gone away again, she stood a moment before the fire and
+looked once more at Bosio's photograph, asking herself seriously for the
+last time whether she should marry him or not. But the answer was there
+before the question, and she had made up her mind.
+
+At the last minute, she had forgotten the flower she had promised to
+wear, and she sent her maid in haste to see whether she could find one
+of any sort in the house. It was the middle of December, and it was not
+probable that such a thing could be found in the Palazzo Macomer. The
+maid came back empty-handed. Veronica told her to find an artificial
+one, and Elettra, after some searching, produced a very beautiful
+artificial gardenia, which Veronica pinned in her white bodice, with a
+smile. She glanced at herself once more, and saw that the colour was
+still in her cheeks, and she was satisfied with herself.
+
+When she entered the drawing-room, the other three were already there,
+and she saw the faces of Matilde and Bosio change as they caught sight of
+the flower. Gregorio apparently knew nothing of the arrangement--another
+instance of Matilde's tact which pleased Veronica. Matilde herself
+was no longer pale. She had seen how desperate she looked and had put
+a little rouge upon her cheeks so deftly and artistically that the young
+girl did not at first detect the deception. But her features had still
+been drawn and weary. They relaxed suddenly in a genuine smile when she
+saw the gardenia. But Bosio grew paler, Veronica thought, and looked
+very nervous. At table, he was opposite Veronica, and he reminded her
+more than ever of Van Dyck's portraits, so that she wondered why she
+had never before thought of the general resemblance. He talked less than
+at luncheon, and sometimes his eyes rested on hers with an expression
+which she could not understand. But there was admiration in it, as well
+as something else. Veronica herself was animated, and had never looked
+so well before, in the recollection of the other three.
+
+After dinner Gregorio disappeared almost immediately, and at the end of
+a quarter of an hour Matilde left the room, merely observing that she
+was going to write letters and would come back when she had finished.
+Bosio and Veronica were alone.
+
+To her, it seemed to have come suddenly at the end, and she did not
+quite realize how it was that she found herself standing on one side of
+the fireplace, while he stood on the other.
+
+They looked at each other a moment. Then Veronica smiled faintly, and
+drew herself up--or lengthened herself--as slight young girls have a way
+of doing when they are pleased, and she turned a little in the movement,
+and glanced at the clock, still faintly smiling.
+
+Bosio was watching her, and he could not help admiring her lithe figure
+and small, well-poised head, that had a sort of girlish royalty of
+carriage not at all connected with beauty; for she was not beautiful,
+and she herself knew that there were times when she was almost ugly. He
+saw and admired, and he cursed himself for what he meant to do. He was
+not sure, even now, that he could do it.
+
+There was no awkwardness in the silence, Veronica thought, for it seemed
+to her that he understood, and that words were hardly necessary. If she
+had meant to refuse him, she would have done so through Matilde. She
+smiled, looking at the clock, and thinking about it all. Then she
+realized that no word had been spoken on either side, and she turned her
+head a little shyly, till she could just see his face, while the smile
+still lingered on her lips. One hand rested on the mantelpiece, with
+the other she touched the artificial gardenia in her bodice.
+
+"That is my answer, you know," she said quietly, and her eyes waited for
+his.
+
+But he only glanced at her face, and for a moment he did not move. Then,
+with a graceful inclination he took her hand and raised it to his lips.
+She noticed even then that his own hand was dry and burning. He did not
+trust himself to speak. When he looked up, the room whirled with him,
+and he saw strange colours. He thought his teeth were chattering.
+
+"Are you glad?" she asked, wondering a little at his silence now, and
+the room seemed strangely still all at once.
+
+"Is it quite of your own free will?" he asked, as though it cost him an
+effort to say anything.
+
+"Yes--quite. Of course!" Her face grew bright as though she were happy
+in removing the one doubt he had.
+
+"I am very glad of that," he said quietly.
+
+"Do you think that I would marry any one under pressure?" asked
+Veronica, with a soft laugh. "I will tell you something that will
+convince you. It is a secret. You must not tell my aunt that I know. I
+could have married Don Gianluca della Spina. Perhaps you know that. Did
+you? I did; but I will not tell you how. Only, you see--I did not care
+for him."
+
+Bosio had recovered his self-possession, which had been only momentarily
+shaken. For there had been no surprise--he had known what to expect.
+
+"I only knew lately of the Spina's proposal," he said. "But--shall I
+thank you, Veronica? Or do you understand without words? We have known
+each other so long, that perhaps you may."
+
+"I think I understand," she answered.
+
+She put out her hand again and pressed his, and again he kissed her
+fingers. The action was reverential, and had nothing in it of the man
+who loves and is accepted. Her gentle hand, maidenly and innocent, was
+stretched down into the hell of word and thought and deed in which his
+real self had its being, and he touched it with his lips, and in his
+heart he knelt to kiss it, as something too holy to be in this
+world--just because it was innocent, and his own was not. For herself he
+set her on no pedestal, he did not worship her, he did not love her, he
+admired her with the cold judgment of a man of taste. It is the purity
+of the unblemished and unspotted victim that makes the outward holiness
+of the sacrifice. He thought of his own life and of hers, hitherto side
+by side, and he thought of their joint life in, the future, she taking
+him for what he was not, and he was ashamed.
+
+In the first moment he had a brave impulse to tell her everything and be
+a man, even if he ruined the woman he had loved so long, as well as the
+brother who bore his name. It was only an impulse, and his lips remained
+sealed and his face calm.
+
+"I do thank you," he said in a low voice, when he had kissed her hand
+that second time. "I will do what I can to make you happy."
+
+Yet he knew now, from the strength of that passing impulse, that if she
+had not spoken first, he would not have asked her directly to marry him.
+Twenty times during that long day, alone in his room, he had sworn that
+he would not marry her, whatever happened. For it was not enough that
+Matilde had set him free, and that he had rejoiced for one hour in his
+liberty. That was not enough. Matilde could not undo the work of many
+years by a word and a gesture. His hell was already a desert without
+her. But now, there was no drawing back.
+
+Forty-eight hours ago, in that very room, almost at that hour, he had
+told Matilde that he would never marry Veronica Serra. And now, almost
+on the same spot, and facing the same way, he was telling Veronica Serra
+that he would do his best to make her happy.
+
+"I am sure you will," she answered.
+
+"I should deserve evil things if I did not," he said, passing his hand
+over his eyes, to shut out the sight of the innocence that faced him.
+
+Suddenly it came over him that she must expect him to say more, to be
+passionate, to say that he loved her beyond all mortal things, and set
+her far above immortality itself, and such unproportioned phrases of the
+love-sick when the instant healing of response touches the fainting
+heart. All that, she must expect. Why not? Other women expected it, and
+heard all they desired, well or ill spoken, according to the man's
+eloquence, but always well according to their own hearts. Surely he must
+say something also. He must tell her how he had dreamed of this instant,
+how her white shade had visited and soothed his dismal hours--and the
+rest. As he thought what he should say, love's phrase-book turned to a
+grim and fearful blasphemy in his own inner ears. But she expected it,
+of course, and he must speak, when he would have given the life he had
+to save her from himself and to save himself from the last fall, below
+which there could be no falling. It was almost impossible. If he had not
+loved Matilde Macomer still, he would have turned even then and spoken
+the truth, come what might. But that remained. He gathered the weakness
+of his sin into an unreal and evil strength, as best he could, and for
+Matilde's sake he spoke such words as he could find--lies against
+himself, against the poor rag of honour in which he still believed, even
+while he was tearing it from the nakedness of a sin it could not
+clothe--lies against love, against manhood, against God.
+
+"I have loved you long, Veronica," he began. "I had not hoped to see
+this day."
+
+The awful struggle of his own soul against its last destruction sent a
+strong vibration through his softened voice, and lent the base lie he
+spoke such deadly beauty as might dwell in the face of Antichrist, to
+deceive all living things to sin.
+
+He was still standing, and his hand lay out towards Veronica, on the
+shelf before the clock. Slowly she turned towards him, at the first
+sound of his words, wondering and thrilled.
+
+"Is it long? I do not know," he continued. "It is more than a year,
+since I first knew what this love meant. For I have loved little in my
+life--little, and I am glad, though I have been sorry for it often, for
+all I ever had, or have, or am to have till I die, is for you, Veronica,
+all of it--the love of heart and hand and soul, to live for you and die
+for you, in trust and faith, and love of you. You wonder? Beloved--if
+you knew yourself, you would not wonder that I love you so! There is no
+man who could save himself, if he lived by your side, as I have lived.
+You smile at that? Well--you are too young to know yourself, but I am
+not--I know--I know--I thought I knew too well, and must pay dear for
+knowing how one might love you and live. But it is not too well, now.
+It is life, not death. It is hope, not despair--it is all that life and
+joy can mean, in the highest."
+
+He paused, his eyes in hers, his hand still stretched out and lying on
+the shelf. Gently hers sought it and lay in it, and there was light in
+her face, for she believed. And he, in his suffering within, was moved;
+as a man is, who, being in his life but a poor knave, plays bright truth
+and splendid passion on a stage, and the contrast that is between being
+and seeming, in his heart, makes him play greatness with a strong will,
+born of certain despair.
+
+"I am glad," said Veronica, softly, and she looked down, while her hand
+still lingered in his, and he went on.
+
+"It is not easy for a man like me to believe that he has all the world
+in his grasp--in the hold of his heart, to be his as long as he lives.
+But you are making me believe it now--all that I did not dare to think
+of as even most dimly possible in my lonely life--that is why I thank
+you, that is why I bless you, and adore you, and love you as I do, as I
+can never make you guess, Veronica, as I scarcely hope you dream that a
+man may love a woman. That is why I would die for you, Veronica, if God
+willed that I might!"
+
+The great words lacked no outward sign of living truth. His hand burned
+hers, and closed upon it, pressure for word, to the end, in the
+terrible play of acted earnestness. Even his eyes brightened and filled
+themselves, determined to lie with all of him that lied to her.
+
+Had he hated her, had it been a vengeance to make her love him in
+payment of a past debt of wrong, it would have seemed less foully base
+in his own eyes. But he liked her. She had always trusted him and liked
+him too, and there had been only kindness between them always. That made
+it worse, and he knew it. But he could do the worst now, he thought, for
+he had altogether given over his soul, to leave it in hell, without
+hope.
+
+"I pray God that I may be worthy of your love," said Veronica, gently
+and earnestly.
+
+He drew her towards him by her little hand, and himself came softly
+nearer to her, till his other hand was on her shoulder, drawing her
+still. She yielded, not knowing what she should do. Quite close she was,
+and he held her, unresisting, and kissed her. She had known, but she had
+not realized. The scarlet blood leapt up in maiden shame, and she
+started back a little. But she thought that he had the right to do it.
+
+"Good night," she said, with downcast eyes, for she felt that she could
+not stay to look at him.
+
+"Good night, love," he whispered.
+
+He let her go, and she slipped from him, leaving him still standing in
+his place. The door closed behind her, and he was alone, very quiet and
+pale, thinking of what he had done, and not rejoicing, for he knew the
+depth of its meaning.
+
+He was glad it was over, for if it had been to do again, he could not
+have done it. His lips were parched, his throat was dry, his hands were
+burning; he felt as though his head were shaking on his shoulders,
+palsied by a blow. But such as the deed was, it had been well done, to
+the end. The devil, if he cared for his own, would be pleased. He had
+even kissed her. He knew what Judas had been, now, and what he had felt.
+
+He did not know how long he stood there. It might have been a quarter of
+an hour or more; but though he watched the clock's face, his eyes saw no
+movement of the hands upon the dial. It seemed to him that the room was
+dark.
+
+Then the door opened again, and he started and looked round, fearing
+lest Veronica might have come back--or her ghost, for he felt as though
+he had killed her with his hands. But it was Matilde Macomer. She
+glanced round the room and saw that Veronica was gone.
+
+"Well?" she asked, coming swiftly forward to where Bosio was standing,
+pale as death under her rouge.
+
+He faced her stupidly, with heavy eyes, like a man drunk.
+
+"It is all over" he said slowly.
+
+She started forward, not understanding him.
+
+"Over? Broken off?" she cried, in horror.
+
+"Oh no!" he answered with a choking laugh, bad to hear. "It is done. It
+is agreed. She accepts me."
+
+Matilde drew breath, and pressed her hand to her left side for one
+moment--she, who was so strong.
+
+"You almost killed me!" she said, so low that Bosio hardly caught the
+words.
+
+Slowly she straightened herself, and the colour came back to her face,
+blending with the tinge of the paint. He did not move, and she came and
+stood near him, leaning her elbows upon the mantelpiece and turning to
+him.
+
+"You have saved me," she said. "I thank you."
+
+Bad natures can be simple, if they are great enough, and Matilde spoke
+simply, as she looked at him. She had been almost terrible to look at a
+few moments earlier, with the rouge visible on her ghastly cheeks. No
+one could have detected it now, and she was still splendid to see, as
+she stood beside him, just bending her face upon her clasped hands while
+her deep eyes melted in his.
+
+He knew the difference between her and Veronica, and he straightened
+himself, till he looked rigid, and an unnatural smile just wreathed his
+lips, half hidden in his silky beard. He told himself that he had fallen
+the last fall, to the very depths; yet he knew that there was a depth
+below them, and he tried to turn his face from her, seeking refuge in
+the thought of what he had done, from the evil he still might do.
+
+"I have been thinking over all I said to you yesterday afternoon," she
+said gently. "I meant it, you know--I meant it all."
+
+"I trust to Heaven you did!" answered Bosio.
+
+"Yes, dear, I meant it," she said in a voice of gold and velvet. "I will
+try to mean it still. But--Bosio--look at me!"
+
+He turned his eyes, but not his face.
+
+"Yes?" His voice was not above his breath.
+
+"Yes--but can you? Can I? Can we live without each other?"
+
+"Yes, we must." He spoke louder, with an effort.
+
+She drew nearer to him, strong and soft.
+
+"Yes? Well--but say goodbye--not as yesterday--not as though it were
+good bye--one kiss, Bosio, only one kiss--one, dear--one--"
+
+And in it, her voice was silent, for it had done its tempting, and she
+had her will, on the selfsame spot where he had kissed Veronica. Then he
+trembled from head to foot, and his heart stood still. An instant later
+he was gone, and she had not tried to keep him. She watched him as he
+left her and went to the door without turning.
+
+He walked quickly when he had shut the door behind him, and his face
+was livid. The depth below the depths had been too deep. He had but one
+thought as he went through the rooms, and the antechamber, and hall, and
+out upon the cold staircase, and up to his own door, and on, and in,
+till he turned the key of his own room behind him. There was no stopping
+then, either, between the door and the table, between key and lock, and
+hand and weapon.
+
+Before the woman's kiss had been upon his lips two minutes, Bosio
+Macomer lay dead, alone, under the green-shaded lamp in his own remote
+room.
+
+Peace upon him, if there be peace for such men, in the mercy of Almighty
+God. He did evil all his life, but there was an evil which even he would
+not do upon the innocent life of another. He died lest he should do it,
+and desperately grasping at the universal strength of death, he cast
+himself and his weakness into the impregnable stronghold of the grave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+It was still early in the morning, and all Naples knew that Count Bosio
+Macomer had committed suicide on the preceding evening. Every morning
+newspaper had a paragraph about the shocking tragedy, but few ventured
+to guess at any reason for the deed. It was merely stated that Count
+Bosio's servant had been alarmed by the report of a pistol about nine
+o'clock in the evening, and on finding the door of his master's room
+locked had broken in, suspecting some terrible accident. He had found
+the count stretched upon the floor, in evening dress, with his own
+revolver lying beside him.
+
+That was precisely what had happened, but the meagre account gave no
+idea of the confusion which had ensued upon the discovery. It contained
+no mention of Matilde nor of Veronica, and merely observed that the
+brother of the deceased was overcome with grief.
+
+That would have been too weak an expression to apply to what Matilde
+suffered during the hours which followed the first appalling blow. In
+the overpowering horror of the situation, she did not lose her mind,
+but she sincerely believed that her body could not live till the
+morning.
+
+To do her justice, as she sat there beside the dead man, bent and
+doubled in silent, tearless grief, a dark shawl drawn over her head to
+hide her face, and utterly regardless, for once, of what any one might
+think, she thought only of him and of what she had done. For she
+understood, and she only, in all the household.
+
+Beyond her conscious thoughts, if they could be called thoughts at all,
+the black figures of the forbidding future loomed darkly in her
+consciousness. They were the things she knew, rather than the things she
+felt, but the terror of what was to be was as real as the grief for what
+had been, though as yet it had less strength to move her. The blow had
+struck her down, and until she should try to rise she could feel nothing
+but the blow. In truth she did not think that she should live until the
+morning.
+
+It was midnight when they lit candles, and set them beside him in great
+candlesticks as he lay. And she sat down at his feet and watched his
+still face, from beneath the shawl that hung over her head. It had been
+in her hands when they had told her, and her fingers had closed upon it
+stiffly; so she had it when she came to his room. She was glad, for she
+could cover herself from the eyes of those who came and went, but her
+own eyes could see out, from under it, and no tears blinded her. After
+she had sat down, she did not move.
+
+Gregorio Macomer had come, and had gone away, and then he had come
+again, when all was done, and had knelt a long time beside the couch on
+which his brother lay, repeating prayers audibly. His face was as grey
+as a stone. He only spoke to give directions in a whisper, and he said
+nothing to his wife, but let her alone, bowed and covered as she sat.
+When he had prayed, he went away, with reverently bent head, and she
+heard that he trod softly. In two hours he came back, knelt again, and
+again repeated Latin words. She knew that he was doing it for a show of
+sorrow, and she wished to kill him. Then, when he was softly gone again,
+she wondered how soon she herself was to die. There were two servants in
+the room, behind her, keeping watch. They were relieved by two others,
+changing through the night. She heard them come and go, but did not turn
+her head.
+
+When the dawn forelightened, like the ghost of a buried day risen from
+the grave to see its past deeds, she was not yet dead. She had once read
+how the murderers of Vittoria Accoramboni had been torn with red-hot
+pincers and otherwise grievously tortured, and how knives had been
+thrust deep into their breasts just where the heart was not, but near
+it, and how they had died hard, for they had lived more than half an
+hour with the knives in them, and at the last had been quartered alive.
+She had not believed what she had read, but now she knew that it was
+true. She envied them the searing, the tearing, and the knives which had
+at last killed them, though they had died so hard.
+
+The wan dawn turned the dead man's face from waxen yellow to stone grey.
+The servants saw it, whispered, and closed the inner shutters, and the
+yellow candle-light shone again in the room. Any light is better than
+daylight on a dead face.
+
+Matilde sat still, bowed and covered. Fixed in the world of grief, the
+hours of sorrow passed her by. There was neither night nor day in the
+dead watch of the closed room, under the tall candles, burning steadily.
+
+Then, at last, other feet were on the threshold, stumbling, shuffling,
+ill-shod feet of men bearing a burden. In that city, one may not lie in
+his home more than one day after he is dead. They set down what they
+bore, beside the couch, and waited, and the woman saw their questioning
+faces and heard them whispering. Then one of them, with some reverence
+and gentleness, thrust his arm under the low pillow, and with his eyes
+bade another lift the feet. But Matilde rose then and came between them
+and the dead. They thought that she would look at him once more, and
+they drew back, while she looked, for she bent over his face. But the
+shawl about her head fell about her, and they could not see that she
+kissed him. They waited.
+
+The great woman put her hands about him, and bowed herself, and lifted
+him from the couch, and the men could not believe it when they saw her
+turn with him and lay him down in his coffin, alone, with no one to help
+her.
+
+For she was very strong. She stood and looked down at him a long time,
+and once she stopped and moved one of his crossed hands, which touched
+the edge. And then she drew from her neck, from beneath the shawl, a
+piece of fine black lace, and laid it gently over and about his head.
+
+"Cover it," she said to the men, and she stood waiting, lest they should
+touch him with their hands.
+
+She had seen his face for the last time, and when they had covered him,
+they laid the coffin in another of lead which they had brought, and she
+stood quite still, watching the gleaming melted stuff that ran along the
+edges of the grey lead, like quicksilver, under the hot tool of copper.
+When that was done, with main strength they laid him in the third, which
+was covered with black velvet. And there were screws.
+
+At last they went away, and Matilde set the tall candlesticks on each
+side of the velvet thing, and looked at it again. Then she, too, with
+still covered head, went towards the door. But between the coffin and
+the door, she stood still, swaying a little, till she fell to her full
+length backwards and straight, as a cypress tree falls when it is cut
+down. But she was not dead, for she was too strong to die then. The
+servants carried her away to her own room, calling others to help them,
+for she was heavy, and they had to take her down the stairs. It was
+afternoon then, and when she came to herself and opened her eyes, she
+bitterly cursed the day, for it would have been good to die. But she
+never went again to the room where she had watched.
+
+She lay still a long time, alone in silence. Then, from a room beyond
+hers, came the wild crash of her husband's laughter. She sat up. Her
+face was grim and terrible, ghastly and stained with rouge, as the shawl
+fell back upon her shoulders. She sat up and listened, and her smooth
+lips twisted themselves angrily, one against the other, as a tiger's
+sometimes do, when there is blood in the air. She knew now that she was
+really alive, for she thought of Veronica.
+
+Veronica had not known in the night. Her rooms were at the farther end
+of the apartment in a quiet part of the house, and when she had left
+Bosio she had gone to bed immediately and had dismissed her maid.
+Elettra came from the room to find the household in the hideous uproar
+and confusion which first followed the discovery of Bosio's death.
+Elettra was a wise woman as well as a revengeful one. By the deeds of
+the Macomer, as she looked at it, her own husband had been killed, and
+she had cursed their house, living and dead. She had blood now, for her
+blood, and in the dark corridor she smiled once. But no one should
+disturb Veronica, and she stood there, where any one must pass to go to
+the girl's room, silent, satisfied, watchful. She loved her mistress, as
+she hated all the Macomer, body and soul, alive and dead. Some foolish
+women of the household would have roused Veronica, for they came, two
+together, asking in loud hysterical voices, whether she knew. But
+Elettra kept them off, and took the news herself in the morning when
+Veronica rang for her.
+
+"A terrible thing has happened in the night," she said, when she had
+opened the windows.
+
+Veronica opened her eyes wide and then rubbed them slowly with her slim,
+dark fingers and looked again at Elettra.
+
+"It is a very terrible thing," continued the woman, gravely. "It
+happened in the night, and all was confusion, but I would not let them
+disturb you. They heard the pistol-shot and broke down the door. He was
+already dead. He had shot himself."
+
+"Who?" asked Veronica, in instant horror. "Some one in the house? A
+servant?"
+
+Elettra shook her head.
+
+"No. I would not tell you--but you must know. It was Count Bosio."
+
+Veronica turned pale and started up. "Bosio? Bosio dead?" she cried in a
+voice that was almost a scream.
+
+The woman was sensible and understood her, and by that time the
+household was quiet, so that there was no fear lest any one else should
+come to Veronica's room.
+
+But when she was quite sure of what had happened, Veronica wept bitterly
+for a long time, burying her face in her pillows and refusing to listen
+any more to Elettra. Then, if the woman had not prevented her, almost
+forcibly, she would have gone upstairs to see him where he lay dead. But
+Elettra would not let her go, for she knew that Matilde was there, and
+why; and moreover, it was not within her ideas of custom that a young
+girl should go and look at any one dead. But Veronica's tears flowed on.
+
+At first it was only sorrow, real and heartfelt, without any attempt to
+reason and explain. But by and by she began to ask herself questions for
+the dead man's sake. In her dreams the sweet words he had spoken in the
+evening had come back to her, and when she had first opened her eyes at
+the sound of Elettra's voice she had thought that she saw his eyes
+before her in the dimness, before the windows were all opened. She had
+not loved him yet, but those words of his had touched something which
+would have felt, by and by. And suddenly, he was gone. Why? It was so
+sudden. It was as though a part of the earth had fallen through, into
+space beneath, without warning. There was too much gone, all at once.
+She could only ask why. And there was no answer to that.
+
+Her eyes fell upon the artificial gardenia she had worn. It lay upon the
+dressing-table where she had tossed it when she had taken it from her
+bodice. Her tears broke out again, for it had meant so much last night,
+and could mean now but the memory of that much, and never again anything
+more. It was a long time before Veronica dried her eyes, and consented
+to dress.
+
+Apart from the sorrowful horror that filled her, it seemed so very
+strange that he should have killed himself just after she had promised
+to marry him, within an hour after they had spoken together of the
+happiness to come.
+
+"It was an accident," she said at last, speaking to herself, as though
+she had reached a conclusion. "He did not mean to do it."
+
+Elettra shook her head, but said nothing. Accident, or no accident, it
+was the blood of a Macomer for the blood of her own dead husband,
+murdered up there in Muro by the peasants because Macomer had burdened
+them beyond their power to pay.
+
+She said nothing, and Veronica expected no answer, but sat still, trying
+to think, while Elettra noiselessly set the big dressing-room in order.
+The woman had given her a black frock without consulting her.
+
+Though Veronica liked her, and knew that she could rely on her devotion,
+she was not one of those Italian girls who readily confide in their
+serving-women, and she had told Elettra nothing about the projected
+marriage, and she said nothing of it now, though she was mourning her
+betrothed husband. But she told Elettra to go out and buy a little crape
+to put on the black frock, and to send for dressmakers to make mourning
+things quickly.
+
+The confusion in the house had subsided into stillness. Bosio Macomer
+was in his coffin. The servants were exhausted, and there was no one to
+direct. Gregorio had been heard laughing wildly in his room, and a
+frightened chambermaid said that he was going mad. Elettra had great
+difficulty in getting something to eat, which she brought to Veronica's
+room with a glass of wine.
+
+The girl's first outbreak of sorrow ebbed to a melancholy placidity, as
+the hours went by. She got her prayer-book, and read certain prayers for
+the dead. When her maid had gone out to buy the crape, she knelt down
+and said prayers that were not in the book, very earnestly and simply;
+and now and then her tears flowed afresh for a little while. She took
+the artificial gardenia and put it away in a safe place, after she had
+kissed it; and she wondered when she remembered how she had blushed last
+night when Bosio kissed her that once--that only once that ever was to
+be. And she took his photograph and looked at it, too. But she could not
+bear that yet--at least, not to look at it too closely.
+
+Vaguely she tried to think what the others might be doing in the house,
+and why no one came to her but her maid. It seemed to her that she was
+always to be alone, now, for days, for weeks, for years. As she grew
+more calm, she attempted to imagine what life would be without the
+companionship of Bosio. That was what she should miss, for she was but
+little nearer to love than that. It all looked so blank and gloomy that
+she cried again, out of sheer desolation and loneliness. But of this she
+was somewhat ashamed, and she presently dried her eyes again.
+
+She did not like to leave her room, either. It seemed to her that death
+was outside, walking up and down throughout the rest of the house, until
+poor Bosio should be taken away. And again she wondered about Matilde
+and Gregorio, and what they were doing. She tried to read, but not the
+novel Bosio had given her. She took up another book, and presently found
+herself saying prayers over it. The day was very long and very sad.
+
+Before Elettra came back from her errands, a servant knocked at
+Veronica's door. He said that there was a priest who was asking for her,
+and begged her to receive him for a few moments.
+
+"It cannot be for me," answered Veronica. "It must be a mistake. He
+wishes to see my aunt, or the count."
+
+"He asked for the Princess of Acireale," said the man. "I could not be
+mistaken, Excellency."
+
+"He does not know who I am, or he would not ask for me by that name.
+Does he look poor? It must be for charity."
+
+"So, so, Excellency. He had an old cloak, but his face is that of an
+honest man."
+
+"Give him ten francs," said Veronica, rising to get her pocket-book.
+"And tell him that I am sorry that I cannot receive him."
+
+The servant took the note, and disappeared. In three minutes he came
+back.
+
+"He does not want money, Excellency," he said. "He says he is the
+Reverend Teodoro Maresca, curate of your Excellency's church in Muro,
+and begs you earnestly to receive him."
+
+Veronica rose again. She knew Don Teodoro by name, for Bosio had often
+spoken of him to her, as his former tutor and his friend. It was for
+Bosio's sake that he had come--that was clear. Veronica asked where her
+aunt was, and on hearing that Matilde had retired to her own room, she
+told the servant to bring Don Teodoro to the yellow drawing-room.
+
+A moment later she followed. The tall priest was standing with bent head
+before the fireplace, on the very spot where so much had happened during
+the last two days. He held his three-cornered hat in one hand, and was
+stretching out the other to warm it at the low flame. Veronica was a
+little startled by his face and extraordinary features, but he looked at
+her clearly and steadily through his big silver spectacles, and he had a
+venerable air which she liked. She noticed that when she advanced
+towards him, he bowed like a man of the world, and not at all like a
+country priest.
+
+"I thank you for receiving me, princess," he said, gravely. "I have
+heard the sad news. I was Bosio's friend for many years. I spent an hour
+with him only the day before yesterday, during which he told me much
+about himself and about you. If, before he died, he told you nothing of
+what he told me, as I think probable, it is necessary for you to know it
+all from me as soon as possible. Forgive me for speaking hurriedly and
+abruptly. The case is urgent, and dangerous for you. Shall we be
+interrupted here?"
+
+"I think not," said Veronica, considerably surprised by his manner. "But
+of course--" she paused doubtingly.
+
+"Have you a room of your own, where you could receive me?" asked the old
+man, without hesitation.
+
+"Yes--that is--I should not like to--"
+
+"I am an old priest, princess, and this is a time of confusion in the
+house. You can risk something. It is important. Besides, I am in your
+own service," he added, with a quiet smile. "I am the chaplain of your
+castle at Muro."
+
+"Yes--that is true." Veronica looked at him with a little curiosity, for
+she had never been to Muro, and it was interesting to see one of her
+dependents of whom she had often heard. "Come," she said suddenly. "We
+shall meet no one, except my maid, perhaps--Elettra. Do you know her?
+Her husband was under-steward, and was killed."
+
+"I know of her--I buried him," answered the priest.
+
+She led the way to her own part of the house, to the large room which
+served her as dressing-room and boudoir. After all, as he had said, he
+was a priest and an old man. She made him sit down beside her fire, in
+her own low easy-chair, for he looked thin and cold, she thought, and
+she felt charitably disposed towards him, not dreaming what he was going
+to say, and supposing that he had exaggerated the importance of his
+errand.
+
+"Princess--" he began, and paused, choosing his words.
+
+"Do not call me that," she said. "Nobody does. Call me Donna Veronica."
+
+"I am old fashioned," he answered. "You are my princess and feudal liege
+lady. Never mind. It would be better for you if you were in your own
+castle of Muro, with your own people about you, though it is a gloomy
+place, and the scenery is sad. You would be safe there."
+
+"You speak as though we lived in the Middle Ages," said the young girl,
+with a faint smile.
+
+"We live in the dark ages. You are not safe here. Do you know why my
+dear friend Bosio killed himself last night?"
+
+"It was an accident! It must have been an accident!" Veronica's face was
+very sorrowful again.
+
+"I wish it had been," said Don Teodoro. "They will say so, in charity,
+in order to give him Christian burial. But it was not an accident,
+princess. My friend told me all the truth, the day before yesterday. It
+is very terrible. He killed himself in order not to be bound to marry
+you."
+
+The round, silver-rimmed spectacles turned slowly to her face.
+
+"In order not to marry me! You must be mad, Don Teodoro! Or you do not
+know the truth--that is it! You do not know the truth. It was only last
+night that he asked me to marry him--that is--it had been my aunt who
+had asked me, and I gave him the answer."
+
+"You consented?"
+
+"Yes. I consented--"
+
+"That is why he killed himself," said the priest, sadly. "I knew he
+would, if it came to that. It is a terrible story."
+
+Veronica stared at him in silence, really believing that he was out of
+his mind, and beginning to feel very nervous in his presence. He shocked
+her unspeakably, too, by what he said about Bosio; for if the wound was
+not deep, perhaps, it was fresh, and his words were brine to it. He saw
+what she felt, and made haste to be plain.
+
+"I am sorry that I am obliged to tell you this," he continued, after a
+short pause. "I cannot help it. The only thing I can do for my dead
+friend is to save you, if I can. I saw the account of his death in a
+newspaper an hour ago, and I came at once. Will you please not think
+that I am mad, until you have heard me? I was his friend, and I have
+eaten your bread these many years. I must speak."
+
+"Tell me your story," said Veronica, leaning back in her chair and
+folding her hands.
+
+He began at the beginning, and told her all, as Bosio had told him. He
+omitted nothing, for he had the astonishing memory which sometimes
+belongs to students, besides the desire to be perfectly accurate, and
+to exaggerate nothing. For he knew that she would find it hard to
+believe him.
+
+She listened; and as he went on, describing the struggle in poor Bosio's
+heart between the desire to save the woman he loved and the horror of
+sacrificing Veronica as a means to that end, she leaned forward again,
+drawing nearer to him, and watching his face keenly. Her eyes were wide,
+and her lips parted a little; for whether true or not, the story was
+terrible as he told it, and as he had said that it would be.
+
+"I do not know what he said to you last night," he concluded. "I give
+you a dead man's words, as he spoke them to me; but I have no right to
+those he spoke to you. This is true, that I have told you, as I hope for
+forgiveness of my own sins. If you stay in this house, by the truth of
+God, I believe that your life is not safe."
+
+"You believe it, I am sure," said Veronica. "But I cannot. The most I
+can believe is that poor Bosio was already mad when he told you this. It
+must be true. Even supposing that my uncle were the man you think, and
+had ruined himself in speculations and had taken money of mine without
+my knowledge, would it not be far more natural that he and my aunt
+should come to me and confess everything, and beg me to forgive and help
+them for the sake of their good name? Of course it would. You cannot
+deny that."
+
+"It is what I told Bosio," answered Don Teodoro, shaking his head; "but
+he answered that they feared you, and that your death would be a safer
+way, because you might not be so kind. You might go to the cardinal and
+lay the case before him, and they would be lost."
+
+"I might. I probably should." Veronica paused. "That is true," she
+continued, "but whatever I did, I could not allow the matter to come to
+a prosecution--for the sake of my own name, if not for theirs. But I do
+not believe it--I do not believe it--indeed, I do not believe it at all.
+Poor Bosio was not in his right mind. That is why he killed himself. He
+was mad, even when he talked with you the day before yesterday--it is
+the only possible explanation."
+
+"Nevertheless, something must be done," said Don Teodoro. "Your safety
+must be thought of first, princess."
+
+"I feel perfectly safe here," answered Veronica. "All this is madness.
+The countess is my father's sister. I admit that I have not always liked
+her, but she has always been kind. You really cannot expect me to
+believe that she and my uncle would plot against my life--especially
+now, in this terrible trouble and sorrow! I have listened to you, Don
+Teodoro, and I am sure that you wish me well, but I never can believe
+that you are right. Really--with all respect to you--I must say it. It
+is wildly absurd!"
+
+And the longer she thought of it, the more absurd it seemed. The girl
+was naturally both sensible and brave, and the whole tale was monstrous
+in her eyes, though while he had been telling it she had fallen under
+the spell of its thrilling interest, forgetting that it was all about
+herself. She looked at the quiet old priest, with his extraordinary face
+and quiet manner, and it was far easier to believe that a man with such
+features might be mad than that her Aunt Matilde meant to kill her. He
+was silent for a few moments.
+
+"There is a terrible logic in the absurdity," he said at last. "Your
+aunt constrains you to make a will in her favour, Bosio knew that his
+brother is ruined and that several large mortgages expire on the first
+of January. He knew that his brother has defrauded you in a way which is
+criminal. If they can get control of your money within three weeks they
+are saved. They persuaded Bosio and you to be betrothed. But Bosio kills
+himself. The main chance is gone. There remains the one with which the
+countess threatened him if he would not marry you--your immediate death.
+Against that, stands the possibility of penal servitude in the galleys
+for a man and woman of high rank and social position--only the
+possibility, to be sure, but a possibility, nevertheless. Remember that
+to those who know the whole extent and criminality of the count's fraud
+the case appears very much worse than it does to you, who now hear of
+it for the first time, in a general way, and who do not understand the
+nature of such transactions. I have been a confessor many years,
+princess. I know how few penitents can be made to believe that those
+they have injured will pardon them, if they frankly ask forgiveness. It
+is human nature. The best of us have doubted God's willingness to
+forgive--how much more do we doubt man's! It is all very logical,
+princess, very logical--far too logical, whether you will believe it or
+not."
+
+"If I believed the beginning," said Veronica, "I might believe it all.
+But it is not proved that my uncle has defrauded me, and all the rest
+seems absurd, if that is not true."
+
+"I beseech you at least to be careful!" answered the priest, earnestly.
+
+"In what way? I shall go on living here, just the same, unless we all go
+into the country for the rest of the winter. Even if I thought myself in
+danger, I do not see what I could do."
+
+"Eat what the others eat. Drink what the others drink. Take nothing
+especially prepared for you. Lock your door at night. If you will not
+leave the house, that is all you can do."
+
+He shook his head thoughtfully.
+
+It was true Italian advice--against poison and smothering. Veronica
+smiled, even in her sadness.
+
+"I have no fear," she said. "Let us say no more about it. Can I do
+anything for the people at Muro?" she asked, by way of preparing to send
+him away.
+
+"The people at Muro--the people at Muro," he repeated dreamily. "Oh
+yes--they are all poor--almost all. Money would help them. The best
+would be to come and see us yourself, princess. But if you are not
+careful, you will never come now," he added, turning the big spectacles
+slowly towards her and looking long into her face. "I have done what I
+could to warn you," he said, beginning to rise. "I will do anything I
+can to watch over you--but it will be little. Good bye. God preserve
+you."
+
+As she rose she rang the bell beside her that her maid might come and
+show him the way out. She knew that by this time Elettra must have
+returned from her errands. The afternoon light was already failing.
+
+She held out her hand, and he took it and kept it for a moment.
+
+"God preserve you," he repeated earnestly.
+
+He turned just as Elettra opened the door. The woman recognized him at
+once, came forward and kissed his hand, he having long been her parish
+priest. Then she led the way out. Don Teodoro turned at the door and
+bowed again, and Veronica, standing by the fire, nodded and smiled
+kindly to him. She was sorry for him. She had never seen him before,
+and he seemed to be devoted to her, and yet she was sure that his mind
+was feeble and unsettled. No sane person could believe the monstrous
+things he had told her.
+
+Outside, he made a few steps and then stopped Elettra, laying his
+emaciated hand upon her shoulder. He looked behind him and saw that they
+were alone in the passage.
+
+"Take care of your mistress, my daughter," he said. "Naples is not Muro,
+but it is no better. Let her eat what others eat, drink what others
+drink, and take no medicines except from you, and make her lock her door
+at night. This is not a good house."
+
+The dark woman looked at him fixedly for several seconds, and then
+nodded twice.
+
+"It is well that you have told me, Father Curate," she said in a low
+voice. "I understand."
+
+That was all, and she turned to lead him out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+After that, Elettra, unknown to Veronica, slept in the dressing-room
+every night. After her mistress had gone to bed in the inner chamber,
+the woman used to lock the outer door softly and then draw a short,
+light sofa across it; on this she lay as best she might. The nights were
+cold, after the fire had gone out, and she covered herself with a cloak
+of Veronica's. In itself, it was no great hardship for a tough woman of
+the mountains, as she was. But she slept little, for she feared
+something. In the small hours she often thought she heard some one
+breathing on the other side of the door, close to the lock, and once she
+was quite sure that a single ray of light flashed through the keyhole,
+below the half-turned key. Yet this might have been her imagination. And
+as for the breathing, there was a large Maltese cat in the house that
+sometimes wandered about at night. It might be purring all alone
+outside, in the dark, and she might have taken the sound for that of
+human breathing. No people are more suspicious and imaginative than
+Italians, when they have been warned that there is danger; and this does
+not proceed from natural timidity, but from the enormous value they set
+upon life itself, as a good possession.
+
+As for what Veronica ate and drank, Elettra was wise, too. She felt sure
+that if any attempt were made to poison her, Matilde would manage it
+quite alone; and she seriously expected that such an attempt would be
+made, after what Don Teodoro had told her. Veronica, like most Italians
+in the south, never took any regular breakfast, beyond a cup of coffee,
+or tea, or chocolate, with a bit of bread or a biscuit, as soon as she
+awoke. It was easy to be sure that such simple things had not been
+within Matilde's reach, and it was Elettra's duty to go to the pantry
+where coffee was made, and to bring the little tray to Veronica's room.
+At night, the young girl had a glass of water and a biscuit set beside
+her, when she went to sleep, but she rarely touched either. Elettra now
+brought the biscuits herself and kept them in a cupboard in the
+dressing-room, and she herself drew the water every night to fill the
+glass. So far as any food and drink which came to her room were
+concerned, Veronica was perfectly safe. But Elettra could not control
+what she ate in the dining-room. She would not communicate her fears to
+Veronica, either, for she knew her mistress well; and at the same time
+she did not know what or how much Don Teodoro had told her during his
+visit. Veronica was perfectly fearless, and was inclined to be
+impatient, at any time, when any one insisted upon her taking any
+precautions, for any reason whatsoever--even against catching cold. She
+was not rash, however, for she had not been brought up in a way to
+develop any such tendency. She was naturally courageous, and that was
+all. She was unconscious of the quality, for she had not hitherto been
+aware of ever being in any real danger.
+
+As for Don Teodoro's warning, she put it down as the result of some
+mental shock which had weakened his intelligence. Possibly Bosio's
+sudden and terrible death had affected him in that way. At all events,
+she was enough of an Italian to know how often in Italy such
+extraordinary ideas of fictitious treachery find their way into the
+brains of timid people. On the face of it, the whole story seemed to her
+utterly absurd and foolish, from the tale of Macomer's ingenious frauds
+upon her property, to the supposition that she was in danger of being
+murdered for her fortune. Murder was always found out in the end, she
+thought, and of course such people as her aunt and uncle, even if they
+had any real reason for wishing their niece out of the way, would never
+really think of doing anything at once so wicked and so unwise. But the
+whole thing was absurd, she repeated to herself, and she found it easy
+to put it out of her thoughts.
+
+Meanwhile, the first days after the catastrophe passed in that sad,
+unmarked succession of objectless hours by which time moves in a house
+where such a death has taken place. It is not the custom among the upper
+classes of Italians to attend the funerals of relations and friends. The
+servants are sent, in deep mourning, to kneel before the catafalque in
+church during the first requiem mass. Occasionally some of the men of a
+family are present at the short ceremony in the cemetery. But that is
+all. The family, as a rule, leaves the city at once.
+
+Veronica wondered why her aunt and uncle did not propose to go to the
+country. Macomer had a pretty place in the hills near Caserta, and
+though it was winter the climate there was very pleasant. She did not
+know that the house was already dismantled, in anticipation of the
+probable foreclosure of a mortgage. Besides, in his desperate position,
+Gregorio would have feared to leave Naples for a day. As for making a
+journey to some other city, he was positively reduced to the point of
+having no ready money with which to go. Lamberto Squarci, the notary,
+positively refused to advance anything, and it was quite certain that no
+one else would. For Squarci, who was a wise villain in his way, and had
+aided and abetted Macomer's frauds in order to enrich himself, had only
+given his assistance so long as he was quite sure that he was acting as
+the paid agent of Veronica's guardian. The responsibility was then
+entirely theirs, and he merely obeyed their directions in preparing any
+necessary legal documents. But as soon as the guardianship had expired,
+he knew that in order to be of use in helping Macomer to rob his ward,
+he should be obliged to artificially construct the instruments needed,
+in such a way as to appear legal to the world. In such business, forgery
+could not be far off. The man had himself to think of as well as mere
+money, and at the point where the smallest illegality of action on his
+part would have begun, he stopped short, and refused to do anything
+whatever, leaving Macomer to grapple with his creditors as best he
+might, and to take care of himself if he could. It was now the middle of
+December, and the guardianship had expired, legally speaking, in the
+previous month of March, when Macomer's debts had already reached a very
+high figure. Macomer, after that, had presumed upon his authority and
+position to draw Veronica's income for his own purposes. That was easy,
+as the revenues accrued almost entirely from the great landed estates,
+of which the various stewards were in the habit of sending the rents,
+when collected, directly to Macomer. It was clear that unless Veronica
+herself protested, and until the authorities should discover that she
+was being cheated, these men would naturally continue to send the rents
+to the order of Gregorio Macomer.
+
+Feeling that he was near the end of his chances, he had desperately
+attempted to improve his position by using as much of the year's income
+as he could extract from the stewards, in a final speculation. This had
+failed. He had not been able to pay the interest on his mortgages, and
+the ready money was all gone. A disastrous financial crisis had
+supervened, which had made itself felt throughout the country, and the
+banks which held the mortgages had given notice that they would
+foreclose some of them, and not renew the others. If Gregorio Macomer
+could have laid hands, no matter how, on any sum of money worth
+mentioning, he would have fled, under an assumed name, to the Argentine
+Republic, the usual refuge of Italians in difficulties. But he had
+exhausted all he could touch, had gambled, and had lost it. If he fled
+now, it must be as a penniless emigrant. As he had no taste for such
+adventures, at his age, there was but one chance for him, and that lay
+in somehow getting control of Veronica's fortune before the end of the
+month. As for getting any more of the income, in time to be of any use
+in staving off the tidal wave of ruin that rose against him, there was
+no chance of that. The farmers all over the country paid their quarter's
+rents on the first of January, or should do so, but there was often
+difficulty in collecting, and the money would not really get to
+Macomer's hands much before February. By that time all would be over;
+and it was not the idea of bankruptcy which frightened Gregorio; it was
+the certainty that a declaration of bankruptcy must lead to, and
+involve, a minute examination into his past transactions which had led
+to it.
+
+Matilde knew all the truth, as has been shown. What she suffered in
+remaining in Naples, in going and coming through the familiar rooms, in
+spending her evenings in that room, of all others, in which she had last
+seen Bosio alive, no one knew. She went about silently, and her face
+grew daily paler and thinner. In her behaviour she was subdued and
+silent, though she treated Veronica with greater consideration than
+before. They had never spoken together of the possible reasons for
+Bosio's death, but it had been publicly stated that he had been insane,
+and Matilde, to all appearances, accepted the explanation as sufficient.
+It was made the more reasonable by the evident fact that Gregorio's mind
+was unsettled, and that he himself was in imminent danger of going mad.
+That, at least, was the impression produced upon the household.
+
+As the days went by, the gloom deepened in the Palazzo Macomer, and when
+the three met at their meals, or sat together for a short time in the
+evening, the silence was rarely broken.
+
+At first, it was congenial to Veronica; for if her grief was not
+passionate nor destined to be everlasting, her sorrow was profoundly
+sincere. It was the companionship of Bosio that she missed most keenly
+and constantly, through the long, empty hours.
+
+No one who called was received during those first days. It chanced that
+Cardinal Campodonico had gone to Rome to attend one of the consistories
+for the creation of new cardinals, which are often held shortly before
+Christmas. Had he been in Naples, he would of course have been admitted.
+He wrote to Gregorio, and to Veronica, short, stiff, but sincere,
+letters of condolence. He was a man of a large heart, which was terribly
+tempered by a very narrow understanding; generous, rather than
+charitable; sincere, more than expansive; tenacious, not sanguine; keen
+beyond measure in ecclesiastical affairs, devoted to a cause, but
+unresponsive to the touch and contact of humanity; hot in strife, but
+cold in affection.
+
+Society came to the door of the palace and deposited cards, with a
+pencilled abbreviation for a phrase of condolence, the very shortest
+shorthand of sympathy. Veronica looked through them. All the Della Spina
+people had come. She found also Taquisara's plain cards,--'Sigismondo
+Taquisara,'--without so much as a title, and in the corner were the
+usual two letters in pencil, strong and clear, but just the same as
+those on all the others. Somehow, she knew that she had looked through
+them all, in order to find his and Gianluca's. The letters on the
+latter's bit of pasteboard were in a feminine hand--probably his
+mother's. Veronica's lip curled a little scornfully, but then she looked
+suddenly grave--perhaps he had been too ill to come himself, and if so,
+she was sorry for him and would not laugh at him. As for Taquisara, he
+was so unlike other men, that she had unconsciously expected something
+different to be visible on his card.
+
+The lonely girl spent as much of her time as possible in reading. But it
+was very gloomy. It rained, too, for days together, which made it worse.
+Bianca Corleone came to see her, and they sat a long time together, but
+neither referred to Gianluca, and very little was said about poor Bosio.
+It was impossible to talk freely, so soon after his death, and Veronica
+was not inclined to tell even her intimate friend of what had happened
+on that last night. It had something of a sacred character for her, and
+she said prayers nightly before the poor man's photograph, sometimes
+with tears.
+
+Now and then Veronica felt so utterly desolate that she made Elettra
+come and sit in her dressing-room and sew, merely to feel that there was
+something human and alive near her. She enticed the Maltese cat to live
+in her rooms as much as possible, for its animal company. She did not
+talk with her maid, but it was less lonely to have her sitting there, by
+the window.
+
+She supposed that before long the first black cloud of mourning would
+lighten a little over the house, and she had been taught at the convent
+to be patient under difficulties and troubles. The memory of that
+teaching was still near, and in her genuine sorrow, with the youthfully
+fervent religious thoughts thereby re-enlivened, she was ready to bear
+such burdens and make such sacrifices as might come into her way, with
+the assured belief that they were especially sent from heaven for the
+improvement of her soul, by the restraint and mortification of her very
+innocent worldly desires.
+
+It could hardly have been otherwise. She had not yet loved Bosio, but
+her affection had been sincere and of long growth. On the last day of
+his life he had become her betrothed husband, and for one hour all her
+future living, as woman, wife, and mother, had been bound up with his,
+to have being only with him--to disappear in black darkness with his
+tragic death, as though he had taken all motherhood and wifehood and
+womanhood of hers to the grave forever. As for what Don Teodoro had said
+of his having loved Matilde, she believed that less than all the rest,
+if possible; and the fact that the priest had said it proved beyond all
+doubt to her that he was out of his mind. Beyond that, it had not
+prejudiced her against him, for there was a certain noble loftiness in
+her character which could largely forgive an unmeant wrong.
+
+In her great loneliness, in that dismal household, the reality of faith,
+hope, and charity as the body, mind, and spirit of the truest life, took
+hold upon her thoughts, as the mere words and emblems of religion had
+not done in her first girlhood. She read for the first time the
+Imitation of Christ and some of the meditations of Saint Bernard. The
+true young soul, suddenly and tragically severed from the anticipation
+of womanly happiness, turned gladly to visions of saintly joy--simply
+and without affectation of form or show--purely and without earthly
+regret--humbly and without touch of taint from spiritual pride. She had
+no burden to cast from her conscience, and she sought neither confessor
+nor director for the guidance of her thinking or doing. Straight and
+undoubting, her thoughts went heavenwards, to lay before God's feet the
+sad, sweet offering of her own sorrow.
+
+Without, in those dark winter days, storm drove storm over the ancient,
+evil city, rain followed rain, and gloom changed watches with darkness
+by day and night for one whole week, while the moon waned from the last
+quarter to the new. And within, Matilde Macomer went about the house,
+when she left her room at all, like a great, pale-faced, black shadow of
+something terrible, passing words. And in the library, Gregorio's stony
+features were bent all day over papers and documents and books of
+accounts, seeking refuge from sure ruin, while now and then his face
+was twisted into a curiously vacant grimace, and his maniac laugh
+cracked and reverberated through the lonely, vaulted chamber. He often
+sat there by himself until late into the night, for the end of the year
+was at hand, with all the destruction that a date can mean when a man is
+ruined.
+
+It was a big, long room, with old bookcases ranged by the walls, not
+more than five feet high, and closed by doors of brass wire netting
+lined with dark green cotton. A polished table took up most of the
+length between the door which led to the hall at the one end, and the
+single high window at the other. There was no fireplace, and the count
+had the place warmed by means of a big brass brazier filled with wood
+coals. At night, he had two large lamps with green glass shades.
+
+Matilde sometimes came in and sat with him during the evening. She
+looked at him, and wished he were dead. But she was drawn there by the
+power which brings together two persons menaced by a common danger, in
+the hope that something may suddenly change, and turn peril into safety.
+He sat at one end of the table with his papers, and she took the place
+opposite to him, the lamp being a little on one side, so that they could
+see each other. They were a gloomy couple, in their black clothes, under
+the green light, with harassed, mask-like faces.
+
+One night, Matilde came in very late. She trod softly on the polished
+floor, wearing felt slippers.
+
+"Elettra sleeps in her dressing-room," she said in a low voice.
+
+Macomer looked up, and the twitching of his face began instantly, as
+though he were going to laugh. Matilde brought the palm of her hand down
+sharply upon the bare table, fixing her eyes upon him.
+
+"Stop that!" she cried in a tone of command. "It is very well for the
+servants. You are learning to do it very well. It is of no use with me."
+
+He looked at her steadily for a moment. Then he laughed, but naturally
+and low.
+
+"I might have known that you would find me out," he said. "But it is
+becoming a habit. It may serve us in the end. How do you know that the
+woman sleeps in Veronica's dressing-room?"
+
+"I was wandering about, just now," answered Matilde, looking away from
+him. "I saw the door of Elettra's room ajar. I pushed it open and looked
+in, and I saw that her bed was not disturbed. Then I stood outside the
+door of Veronica's dressing-room, and listened. Something moved once,
+and I was sure that I heard breathing."
+
+Gregorio watched her gravely while she was speaking, but in the silence
+that followed, his small eyes wandered uneasily.
+
+"The girl is lonely," he said at last. "She makes Elettra sleep in the
+room next to hers, because she is nervous."
+
+Matilde seemed to be thinking over what she had said. Some time passed
+before she answered, and then it was by a vague question.
+
+"Well?"
+
+Again they looked at each other.
+
+"That is certainly bad," said Macomer, thoughtfully. "What are we to do?
+Speak to her about it? You can say that you found Elettra's door open,
+at this hour."
+
+"It would do no good," answered Matilde. "We could not prevent her from
+having her maid there, if she wishes it."
+
+"After all," observed Macomer, absently, "it is only a woman."
+
+"Only a woman?" Matilde's lip curled. "I am only a woman."
+
+Macomer nodded slowly, as though realizing what that meant, but he said
+nothing in answer. With his hands under the table he slipped low down in
+his chair, his head bent forward upon his breast, in deep thought.
+
+"Can you not suggest anything?" asked Matilde, at last, gazing at him
+somewhat scornfully. "After all, this is your fault. You have dragged me
+into this ruin with you."
+
+"I know, I know," he repeated in a low voice. "But we cannot do it
+now--with that woman there."
+
+"No. It is impossible now." Matilde's tones sank to a whisper.
+
+She looked down at her strong hands that had grown thinner during the
+past days, but were strong still. Gregorio waited a few moments and then
+roused himself and bent over his papers again.
+
+"You cannot see any way out of it, can you?" asked his wife at last. "Is
+there no possibility of keeping afloat until things go better?"
+
+"No," answered Macomer, not looking up. "There is nothing to go better.
+You know it all. There is only that one way. Failing that, I must go
+mad. One can recover from madness, you know."
+
+"Yes," said Matilde, thoughtfully. "But it is a very difficult thing to
+do well. They have expert doctors, who know the real thing from the
+imitation."
+
+Gregorio looked up suddenly.
+
+"She could not go mad, could she?" he asked, a quiver of cunning
+intelligence making his stony mask quiver. "Are there not things--is
+there not something--you know--something that produces that? What is all
+this talk, nowadays, about hypnotic suggestion?"
+
+"Fairy tales!" exclaimed Matilde, incredulously. "The other is sure.
+This is no time for experiments. There are thirteen days left in this
+year. If we are to do it at all, we must do it quickly."
+
+"I do not like the idea of the pillow," said Macomer, speaking very low
+again.
+
+Matilde's shoulders moved uneasily, as though she were chilly, but her
+face did not change.
+
+"It is of no use to talk of such things," she answered. "Besides," she
+added, "you are dull. Only remember that you have just thirteen days
+more, after to-day."
+
+"Remember!" his voice told all his terror of the limit.
+
+Then Matilde did not speak again. She rested her elbows on the table,
+and her chin upon her hands, staring at him as though she did not see
+him, evidently in deep thought. He bent over his papers, but was aware
+that her eyes were on him. He glanced up nervously.
+
+"Please do not look at me in that way. You make me nervous," he said.
+
+With a scornful half-laugh she rose from her seat.
+
+"Good night," she said indifferently, and in her soft felt slippers she
+noiselessly went away.
+
+She had not come in the expectation of help from her husband in
+anything that was to be done. But besides the bond of fear by which they
+were drawn together, there was the feeling that his presence, especially
+in that room, brought before her vividly the necessity for action.
+Under such pressure, an idea might come to her which would be worth
+having. It had come to-night, but it was of a nature which made it wiser
+not to tell Gregorio about it. Such things, being complicated and
+delicate, and difficult of execution, were best kept to herself, at
+least until her plans were matured and ready. But this time, she
+believed that she had at last what she wanted. The scheme flashed upon
+her all at once, complete and feasible, and perfectly safe, but she
+resolved to think it over for twenty-four hours before finally deciding
+to adopt it.
+
+And while such things were being said and done in the lonely night, and
+deeply pondered through the long, silent days, Veronica came and went
+peacefully, with sad but not unhappy eyes, her thoughts fixed upon the
+new path by which her single sorrow was to lead her up to the eternity
+of all celestial joys.
+
+In those days she determined to lead a holy life, in the memory of the
+dead betrothed, and perhaps in the thought that by the outpouring of
+much good around her, she might yet obtain mercy for the soul of one
+self-slain. She meant not to cut herself off from all mankind, devoting
+her maidenhood to heaven and her body to the servitude of slow
+suffering, whereby some say that the spirit may be saved most
+certainly--in the hard rule of daily dying, and daily rising again one
+day nearer to death. That was not what she meant to do; that depth of
+godly dreaming was too cold and still a depth for her. There must be
+motion and life in her means of grace, since she had the power to make
+others move and live. Marriage, wifehood, motherhood, should not be for
+her, she said; but there was all the rest. There were the many
+hundreds--the thousands, indeed, had she known it--of men and women and
+poor children, toiling against the impossible with hands that had long
+learned to labour in vain, save for the bare bread of life. To them all,
+in many quarters of the land, she would be a mother, to help them, to
+feed them, and to heal them; to work for them and their welfare, as they
+had worked and toiled for the greatness of her dim, great ancestors,
+repaying to humanity, in one lifetime, what humanity had been forced to
+give them through many generations.
+
+She would lead a holy life, for she would pray continually, when there
+was nothing else that she could do. When she could not be thinking out
+some good thing for her people, she would meditate upon higher things
+for the good of her own soul. But first and foremost should be the
+doing, the helping, the giving of life to the far spent, and of hope to
+the helpless.
+
+There in that room, where she dwelt continually in those days, she made
+no vow, she registered no resolution, she imposed no one self upon
+another self within her to thrust out evil and implant good. She had no
+need of that. It was all as simply natural as the growth of a flower,
+effortless, rising heavenward by its own instinct life.
+
+In one thing only she made a determination of her will. She decided that
+with the new year she would at last take over her fortune and estates
+into her own management. Until she did that, she could not know what she
+had, nor where she should begin her good work. That was absolutely
+necessary, and of course, thought she, it presented no difficulty at
+all. Possibly her own indolence about it, and her distaste for going
+into the question of money and accounts, was a fault with which she
+should have reproached herself, because she might have begun to do good
+sooner, had she chosen. But she did not think of that. She would begin
+with the new year.
+
+As though a good destiny had anticipated her desire, the first call for
+her help came suddenly, on the day after the last recorded conversation
+between Gregorio and Matilde.
+
+It was still early in the morning when Elettra brought her a letter,
+bearing the postmark of the city, and addressed in one of those small,
+clear handwritings which seem naturally to belong to scholars and
+students. It was from Don Teodoro, and Veronica read it while she drank
+her tea and Elettra was making a fire in the next room.
+
+The old priest did not refer to the strange story he had told her ten
+days earlier. But he recalled her question concerning the people at Muro
+and their condition. They were indeed desperately poor, he said, and the
+winter was a hard one in the mountains. There were many sick, and there
+was no hospital,--not so much as a room in which a dying beggar might
+lie out of the cold. It was a very pitiful tale, told carefully and
+accurately. And at the end the good man humbly begged that the most
+Excellent Princess would deign to allow his stipend to be paid in
+advance, in order that he might do something to help his poor.
+
+Veronica read the letter twice, and judged it. Then she determined to do
+something at once, for she knew that the man had written the truth. She
+should have liked to send for him, and talk with him of what should be
+done; but she could not forget the things he had said about Bosio, and
+for that reason she did not wish to see him again--at least, not yet.
+His mind was unbalanced about that matter; but charity was a different
+thing.
+
+His address in Naples was in the letter. She wrote a note in answer,
+begging him to tell her how much money he should need to hire a vacant
+house, since there was no time to build one, and to fit it decently with
+what he thought necessary, in order that it might serve as a refuge and
+hospital for the very poor. She sent Elettra with the letter.
+
+It was raining again, and by good fortune Don Teodoro was at home,
+though it was still before noon. While the maid waited, he wrote his
+answer. His thanks were heartfelt on behalf of his parish, but shortly
+expressed. He said that in order to do what Veronica proposed so
+generously, at least two thousand francs would be necessary. He briefly
+explained why the charity would need what he looked upon as a large sum,
+and he begged pardon for being so frank.
+
+Again Veronica read the letter carefully over, and she put it into the
+desk. Half an hour later she went to luncheon. The meal was as silent
+and gloomy as usual, and scarcely half a dozen words were said.
+Afterwards the three came back to the yellow drawing-room for their
+coffee. When the servant was gone, Veronica, stirring the sugar in her
+cup, turned to her uncle.
+
+"Will you please give me three thousand francs, Uncle Gregorio?" she
+asked quietly. "I want it this afternoon, if you please."
+
+Gregorio Macomer grew slowly white to the tips of his ears. Matilde
+sipped her coffee, and turned her back to the light.
+
+"Three thousand francs!" repeated Macomer, slowly recovering a little
+self-control. "My dear child! What can you want of so much money?".
+
+"Is it so very much?" asked Veronica, innocently surprised. "You have
+told me that I have more than eight hundred thousand a year. It is for
+charity. The people at Muro have no hospital. I shall be glad if you
+will give it to me before four o'clock; I wish to send it at once."
+
+Macomer had barely a thousand francs in the house, and he knew that
+there was not a man of business in Naples who would have lent him half
+the little sum for which Veronica was asking.
+
+"I shall certainly not give you money for any such absurd purpose," said
+Gregorio, with sudden, assumed sternness.
+
+Veronica raised her eyes in quiet astonishment, offended, but not
+disconcerted.
+
+"Really, Uncle Gregorio," she said, "as I am of age and mistress of
+whatever is mine, I think I have a right to my little charities.
+Besides, you know, it is not giving, since you are no longer my guardian
+in reality. It is merely a case of sending to the bank for the money, if
+you have not got it in the house. I should like it before four o'clock,
+if you please, Uncle Gregorio."
+
+In his terror the man lost his temper.
+
+"I shall certainly not let you have it," he answered, with cold
+irritation. "It is absurd!"
+
+If Veronica had wanted the money to spend it on herself, she might have
+waited until he was cool again, in the evening, before insisting. But
+her blood rose, for she felt that it was for her poor people, starving,
+sick, frozen, shelterless, in distant Muro. She knew perfectly well
+what her rights were, and she asserted them then and there with a calm
+young dignity of purpose which terrified Gregorio more and more.
+
+"This is very strange," she said. "I do not wish to say disagreeable
+things, Uncle Gregorio; we should both regret them. But you know that I
+am entitled to spend all my income as I please, and I must really beg
+you to get me this money at once. It is for a good purpose. The case is
+urgent. I am the proper judge of whether it is needed or not, and I have
+decided that I will give it. There is nothing more to be said."
+
+"Except that I entirely refuse to listen to such words from my ward!"
+answered Gregorio, angrily.
+
+"I appeal to you, Aunt Matilde," said Veronica, setting down her coffee
+cup upon the table and turning to the countess.
+
+But Matilde knew well enough that her husband could not get the money.
+She shook her head gravely and said nothing.
+
+By this time Veronica was thoroughly determined to have her way.
+
+"Very well," she answered calmly. "I shall telegraph to the cardinal. I
+understand that he is in Rome."
+
+Gregorio turned away, and he felt that his knees were shaking under him.
+He knew well enough what the result would be if the cardinal's
+suspicions were aroused. Matilde saw the danger and interfered.
+
+"I think you are pushing such a small matter to the verge of a quarrel,
+Gregorio," she said sweetly. "Since Veronica insists, you must give her
+the money. After all, it is hers, as she says."
+
+Macomer turned and stared at his wife in amazement.
+
+"I am going out at once," she continued. "If you like, I will go to the
+bank and get the money for you. Yes, dear," she added, turning to
+Veronica, "I shall be back before four o'clock, and you shall have it in
+plenty of time. Did you say four thousand or five thousand?"
+
+"Only three," answered the young girl, rapidly pacified. "Three
+thousand, if you please. Thank you very much, Aunt Matilde! A woman
+always understands a woman in questions of charity. One wishes to act at
+once. Thank you."
+
+And in order to end an unpleasant situation, she nodded and left the
+room. Husband and wife waited a moment after the door was closed. Then
+Matilde, before Gregorio could speak, went and opened it suddenly and
+looked out, but there was no one there.
+
+"She would not listen at the door!" exclaimed Gregorio, with some
+contempt for his wife's caution.
+
+"She? No! But I distrust that woman she has."
+
+"And how do you propose to get this money?" asked the count.
+
+"Have I no diamonds?" inquired Matilde. "She would have ruined us. Order
+the carriage, and I will go to a jeweller at once."
+
+"Yes," said Macomer. "You are very wise. I thought there was going to be
+trouble. It was clever of you to restore her confidence by offering her
+more. But--" he lowered his voice--"something must be done at once."
+
+"Yes," answered Matilde, looking behind her. "It shall be done at once."
+
+He went out half an hour later, and before four o'clock Veronica
+despatched Elettra to Don Teodoro with three thousand francs in bank
+notes. But the diamonds which Matilde had left at the jeweller's were
+worth far more than that, and she had got more than that for them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+Veronica was well satisfied, and slept peacefully, dreaming of the
+pleasure she had given the old priest, and of the good which he could do
+with her money. And then in her dream, the scene of his first visit was
+acted over, and suddenly Veronica started up awake in the dark. She must
+have uttered an unconscious exclamation, just as she awoke, for in a
+moment the door opened and she heard Elettra's voice asking her if she
+needed anything, but in a tone so anxious and changed that it seemed to
+Veronica to belong to her dream rather than to any reality.
+
+"Are you there?" she asked, in the darkness, surprised that the woman
+should have come in so unexpectedly.
+
+"Yes," answered Elettra, briefly, and she groped for the matches on the
+little table beside the bed.
+
+She struck a light and lit a candle. Veronica saw that her face was very
+pale, and that she was half dressed, wearing a black skirt and a white
+cotton jacket. As the young girl looked at her she realized how strange
+it was that she should have appeared at the slightest sound.
+
+"What are you doing here?" she asked, with a little smile. "What time is
+it?" She looked at the watch, holding it up to the flame of the candle.
+"Three o'clock! What is the matter, Elettra? Why have you come?"
+
+Elettra looked down, in real or pretended confusion.
+
+"Excellency," she said in a humble tone, "my room is very cold and damp
+in this rainy weather. For some nights I have slept on the sofa in the
+dressing-room. I hope your Excellency will pardon me. And I heard you
+cry out, just now. Then, forgetting that I ought not to have been
+sleeping there, I got up and came."
+
+"Oh! Did I cry out? Yes--I woke up suddenly. I was dreaming of Don
+Teodoro and of--" She checked herself. "Why did you not tell me that
+your room is damp? You shall have another."
+
+"Excellency, if you will forgive me, it would give trouble at this time.
+If you will allow me to sleep on the sofa until the weather is fine
+again. I will make no noise. You have seen--in the morning no one would
+know it, and I am very well there."
+
+Veronica looked at her and hesitated a moment. In the stillness she
+heard a soft sound.
+
+"What is that?" she asked quickly.
+
+"It is the cat," answered the maid, peering down below the level of the
+candle-light.
+
+"It did not sound like the cat," said Veronica, pushing her dark, brown
+hair back with her slim hand, and looking down over the edge of the bed.
+"It was more like a footstep," she added, with a little laugh.
+
+But at that moment she caught sight of the Maltese cat's green eyes in
+shadow. The creature came forward from the door, sprang instantly upon
+the foot of the bed and lay down, purring, its forepaws doubled under
+it, and its eyes shut.
+
+"It is a heavy cat," said Elettra, thoughtfully. "It is so fat. One can
+hear it when it walks across the room."
+
+She scratched its head gently, and it purred more loudly under her hand.
+
+"Excellency, you will allow me to sleep in the dressing-room, just for
+these days," she said presently.
+
+"Oh yes--if you like," answered Veronica, laying her head down upon the
+pillow, sleepy again.
+
+The maid bent over her and drew the things up about her neck in a
+half-tender, motherly way, looking at the girl's face. Then she
+hesitated before putting out the light.
+
+"Excellency," she said, "let us go to Muro. The air of this house is not
+good for you. It is damp, and you are pale in these days. In the
+mountains the colour will come back. The people will make a feast when
+you come. It will amuse you. Excellency, let us go."
+
+Veronica laughed sleepily.
+
+"You are dreaming, Elettra. Go away. I want to go to sleep."
+
+The woman sighed softly, extinguished the light, and groped her way to
+the door in the dark. Veronica was very sleepy, as she said, but somehow
+after her maid had gone away, she became wakeful again for a time. The
+cat had remained on the foot of the bed, and its soft purring disturbed
+her a little, because she was accustomed to absolute silence. There had
+been a curious cross-fitting of her dream and of the little realities of
+Elettra's entrance. She had dreamt over again the priest's earnest
+warning that her life was in danger, and she had imagined that she heard
+a footstep of a person coming up quickly behind her. Then, somehow, in
+the same instant, recalling what Don Teodoro had told her about her
+uncle's frauds, she had seemed to know that he had refused the money in
+the afternoon because there was no more to take, nor to be given to her.
+Waking suddenly, she had heard Elettra's anxious voice, giving the
+strong impression that she was really in present peril. Then she had
+really thought that she heard another footstep, somewhere, while Elettra
+was standing still beside her. It had only been the cat, of course. It
+was such a very fat cat, as Elettra said, and the floors were of the
+old-fashioned sort, laid on wooden beams, and trembled very easily, as
+they do in old Italian houses. But each detail had fitted with another,
+into a sort of whole which was a reflexion of the priest's story. Some
+of it all at once looked true, and instead of going to sleep at once,
+Veronica's eyes were wide open, and she turned uneasily on her pillow.
+
+Of course, it was absurd, for she had received the money when she had
+insisted upon having it, and if Elettra's room was damp, that quite
+explained her presence. Besides, Elettra could not be supposed to know
+what Don Teodoro had said to Veronica. And then, there was the rest of
+the story, all that connected Bosio and Matilde. She absolutely refused
+to think of believing that. She would not even admit that there might
+have been some little foundation for it in the past.
+
+Instinctively driving away the thought, she began to say certain prayers
+for the poor man, and little by little, repeating the words often, her
+mind grew calm, and she fell asleep once more. Yet in her sleep the
+needle of doubt ran through the little bits of memories, one by one,
+threading them in one continuous string. There was Bianca Corleone's
+look of blank surprise when Veronica had first spoken of a possible
+marriage with Bosio, and there was Taquisara's bold assertion, tallying
+with the priest's, that the Macomer wanted her fortune, and there was
+very vividly before her the gnawing anxiety she had seen in Matilde's
+face until the latter had caught sight of the artificial flower on that
+memorable evening. And the string on which the beads of memory were
+threaded was her long-repressed but profound distrust of Gregorio
+Macomer. It had seemed a wicked prejudice, a gratuitously false
+judgment, based upon something in his face, and she had always fought
+against it as unworthy, besides being irrational. Then, too, there was
+the will she had signed a fortnight since, for the sake of peace. If
+there was nothing in what the priest had said, why had they been so
+terribly anxious to get the document executed without delay? It was
+scarcely natural. And there were fifty other details, turns of phrases,
+changes of expression, little words of Gregorio's spoken in an enigmatic
+tone to his wife, which Veronica had not understood, but which she had
+therefore remembered, and which could mean that he was on the verge of
+ruin, and in great trouble of mind about his affairs. Amidst the wildly
+shifting scenery of dreams, the little doll figures of abiding facts out
+of memory joined hands in procession, showing their faces one by one and
+their likeness to one another more and more clearly. Even in her dream,
+it flashed upon her that it might all be true except that one part of it
+which said that Bosio had loved Matilde and not herself. That was not
+true. He had loved her, Veronica; they had known it, and had taken
+advantage of it. She did not blame them for that. She had been so fond
+of him,--she knew that she should soon have loved him,--and the dream
+swung back upon itself, and she was again standing beside the fire in
+the yellow room, with him so near to her. And after she awoke, she shed
+tears.
+
+On that morning, after eleven o'clock, Matilde came to Veronica's room,
+bringing a piece of needlework with her, and she sat down to stay a
+while. They talked idly about dull subjects, and from time to time
+Matilde looked up and smiled sadly. She sat so that she could not see
+Bosio's photograph on the mantelpiece. After she had been there half an
+hour, she started, suddenly remembering something.
+
+"I have done such a stupid thing!" she exclaimed, with an expression of
+annoyance. "I believe I am losing my memory!"
+
+"What is it?" asked Veronica, naturally.
+
+"I sent my maid out, just before I came to you, with a number of errands
+to do, and I forgot two things that I wanted very much. There was some
+medicine which I was to take before luncheon, and some jet beads that I
+needed. I do not care so much about the beads, but I need the medicine.
+I feel so horribly tired and weak, all the time."
+
+"Send one of the men," suggested Veronica.
+
+"A man could not buy jet things," objected Matilde. "You could not let
+Elettra go out for me, could you? It is a fine morning, for a wonder,
+and she need not be gone more than half an hour."
+
+"Certainly," answered Veronica, promptly. "She has nothing to do, and
+the walk will be good for her."
+
+She rose and rang for her maid.
+
+"I will go and get the recipe," said Matilde, rising, too. "It is an old
+one, given me by our poor doctor who died last year, and I kept it
+because it did me so much good. They will make it up in ten minutes. She
+can go and buy the jet, and stop for it on the way back. Will you tell
+her that she may go?"
+
+Elettra had entered the room, and Veronica explained to her what she was
+to do.
+
+"Put on your hat, Elettra," said Matilde, "and then please come to my
+room, and I will give you the recipe. I must find it among my things. I
+will be back presently, dear," she said to Veronica.
+
+She went out, followed by the maid, who did as she was bidden and then
+went to Matilde's room. The countess explained exactly what sort of jet
+she wanted, and then gave her the recipe.
+
+"Tell the chemist that this is only for two doses," she said, "but that
+I wish him to make up twenty doses, because I am going to take it
+regularly. Say that it is for me, and go to Casadio for it, where we get
+everything. Have it put down on the bill. Do you understand? Here are
+twenty francs for the jet, but you will not need so much. You
+understand, do you?"
+
+"Yes, Excellency."
+
+Elettra stuck the little slip of paper, on which the recipe was written,
+into her shabby pocket-book without looking at it. She could read and
+write fairly well, and had been used to helping her husband the
+under-steward with his accounts at Muro, but even if she had looked at
+the recipe she would have understood nothing of the doctor's
+hieroglyphics and abbreviated Latin words. The prescription was for a
+preparation of arsenic, which Matilde had formerly taken for some time.
+The chemist would not make any difficulty about preparing twenty doses
+of it for the Countess Macomer, though the whole quantity of arsenic
+contained in so many would probably be sufficient to kill one not
+accustomed to the medicine, if taken all at once.
+
+But though Matilde was so anxious to have the stuff before luncheon, she
+had a number of doses of it put away in a drawer, which she took out and
+counted, after Elettra had gone. She opened one of the little folded
+papers and looked at the fine white powder it contained, took a little
+on the end of her finger and tasted it. Then, from the same drawer, she
+took a package done up in coarser paper, and opened it likewise, looked
+at it, smelt it, and touched it with the tip of her tongue very
+cautiously indeed. It was white, too, but coarser than the medicine.
+She was very careful in tasting it, and she immediately rinsed her mouth
+with water, before she tied up the package again, shut the drawer, and
+put the key into her pocket.
+
+By and by Elettra came back and brought her the jet and the medicine,
+returning her the change without any remark. Matilde thanked her, and
+laid the package of twenty doses upon her dressing-table, before the
+mirror.
+
+At luncheon, she persuaded Veronica to go out with her for a drive in
+the afternoon. She said that she felt ill and tired, and did not like to
+go alone. Gregorio said that he was too busy to accompany her, and it
+would not have been easy for Veronica to refuse. While it was still
+early, they drove out, past Bianca Corleone's house, over the hill, and
+down to Posilippo, on the other side. They talked very little, but
+Veronica enjoyed the bright afternoon air, after the long spell of bad
+weather. There was no dust, for the road was not yet dry, and a gentle
+land breeze just roughed the surface of the calm sea to a deeper blue.
+When they turned to drive home, there was already a purple mist about
+Vesuvius, and the great Sant' Angelo's crest was black against the sky,
+for these were the shortest days, and the sun set far to southward. It
+was almost dark when they got back to the city.
+
+"Shall we have tea in your room?" asked Matilde as they went up the
+stairs together. "It is so dreary in the drawing-room."
+
+"Certainly," answered Veronica, readily. "Yes--the rest of the house is
+horribly gloomy, now." Matilde was behind her on the stairs, evidently
+fatigued, but as the young girl spoke, a look of detestation flashed
+across her worn face. She hated Veronica, now that Bosio was dead. But
+for Veronica, Bosio would still have been alive. There was more than the
+mere desperate determination to save herself, and her husband with her,
+in what Matilde did after that. But when they entered the hall, the look
+was quite gone from her face. She had been very gentle, all that morning
+and afternoon. They had talked a little of the incident that had
+occurred on the previous day, of Gregorio's feeling about not letting
+Veronica spend money uselessly. He was so conscientious, Matilde had
+said. Though the guardianship had expired, he still felt it his duty to
+watch his former ward's expenditure. And he was not charitable--no, it
+had always been a cause of regret to Matilde that Gregorio, with all his
+good qualities, was hard to poor people. Bosio had been different.
+Ah--poor Bosio!
+
+She spoke gently, and sometimes there was a true ring in her voice which
+Veronica heard and understood, for it was quite genuine. And now, she
+seemed tired and weak--she who was so strong.
+
+So they went to Veronica's room, and Elettra brought the tea things, and
+Matilde made tea, and they both drank it, and talked a little more, and
+gave the Maltese cat milk in a saucer, on the lower shelf of the little
+two-storied tea-table.
+
+Afterwards, Matilde went away to her room, and Veronica remained alone
+after Elettra had taken away the things.
+
+Before dinner, Elettra came and told her mistress that the countess was
+suddenly taken very ill, and was crying aloud with the pain she
+suffered. Veronica hastily went to her aunt, and found that a doctor had
+already come and was making her swallow olive oil out of a full tumbler.
+A servant followed her into the room with a plate full of raw eggs, and
+the doctor was asking for magnesia. Gregorio Macomer was standing by,
+shaking his head, and occasionally supporting his wife with one hand,
+when her strength seemed to be failing. Veronica took the other side,
+and the doctor stood before the sick woman.
+
+"What is it, Doctor?" asked Veronica, after a moment. "What is the
+matter with her?"
+
+The physician looked over his shoulder and saw that there was no servant
+in the room. "It is arsenic," he answered in a low voice. "She has been
+poisoned. But there was not enough to kill her--she will be quite well
+to-morrow."
+
+"Poisoned!" exclaimed Veronica, in horrified surprise. "By whom?" She
+looked at Gregorio, addressing the question to him.
+
+He gravely raised his high shoulders and shook his head. Veronica
+expected to hear his awful laugh; but though his face twitched
+nervously, it did not come. He knew that the doctor might afterwards be
+an excellent witness to his peculiarities, in case he wished to prove
+himself insane; but on the other hand, had he shown any signs of
+insanity now, the doctor might have suspected him of having poisoned his
+wife. That would have been very unfortunate.
+
+As the physician had foreseen, Matilde was soon better, and by bed-time
+she felt no ill effects from what had happened to her, beyond great
+weakness and lassitude. The doctor had asked many questions and had
+elicited the fact that Matilde had a preparation of arsenic in powders,
+which she took according to prescription, and which she showed him after
+the first spasms were passed. She assured him, however, that she had
+only taken one on that day, and had taken it just before luncheon. The
+rest of the powders were intact and still lay upon her toilet table. She
+showed them also. He took the next one, on the top of the pile, and said
+that he would examine it and ascertain whether the chemist had made any
+mistake. Then he went away, promising to come in the morning.
+
+At last Matilde was alone with her husband. Veronica had gone to bed,
+and Gregorio waited for an opportunity of questioning his wife.
+
+"Whom do you suspect?" he asked, sitting down by her bedside.
+
+"No one," she answered. "I took it on purpose. You need not be anxious.
+I pretended to suffer more than I did, and I do not mind the pain at
+all."
+
+He stared at her, trying to fathom her thoughts, but he altogether
+failed to understand her.
+
+"Why did you do it?" he asked, drawing the lids close together over his
+small eyes.
+
+"You are so dull!" she answered. "You shall see. I cannot explain now. I
+have been really poisoned and I feel ill and weak. Do not go out
+to-morrow before I see you."
+
+He left her, but she did not sleep all night. In spite of what she had
+gone through on that evening and of all the mental suffering of many
+days, she was stronger still than any one knew. It was between two and
+three in the morning when she lighted a candle, wrapped herself in a
+dressing-gown and began to make certain preparations for the day.
+
+In the first place she locked both her doors very softly, and arranged a
+stocking over each keyhole, twisting it round the keys themselves. Then
+she got some stiff writing-paper, and a heavy ivory paper-knife, and
+from the locked drawers she took that other package which was done up
+in coarse paper.
+
+From this she took some of the rough, half-pulverized white stuff, laid
+it upon the marble top of the chest of drawers, and with the ivory
+paper-knife, pressing heavily, she little by little crushed it as fine
+as dust.
+
+She then took nine of the eighteen little papers containing the arsenic,
+which were left, opened each one at the end and poured out the contents
+apart, into a little heap quite separate from the other. And of the
+other, she took a pinch for each little paper and dropped it in--about
+as much in quantity as she had taken out. Then she closed each of the
+papers, carefully slipping one folded end into the other as chemists do;
+when they were all closed, she made a tiny hole in each with the point
+of a needle, so that she should know the bad from the good, if
+necessary. This was only a precaution, and could do no harm. Then she
+arranged the good and the bad in their little packages of five, each in
+a tiny india-rubber band, laying bad ones and good ones alternately.
+When this was done, she put all the packages into the original paper,
+loosely opened, and laid them once more before her looking-glass, upon
+the toilet table. Her large white hands were exceedingly skilful, and it
+would have needed sharp eyes to see that the papers of medicine had been
+tampered with.
+
+After this, she cut a sheet of the writing-paper into four square
+pieces, and very neatly made out of three of them three very small open
+boxes, for moulds, each of the size of a large lump of sugar, and she
+set them up side by side in a row. One was larger than the other two.
+
+They had brought her powdered sugar, with the juice of a lemon in a
+glass and a decanter of water; she had said that if she were thirsty she
+would make herself a glass of lemonade in the night. She had also a
+bottle of ordinary sticking gum.
+
+She took the sugar and mixed a very little with some of the stuff she
+had pulverized, and with a few drops of the gum, till it was a stiff,
+hard paste, and with the end of the paper-knife she carefully filled the
+largest of her three moulds with it. She was sure that it would be dry
+and hard by the next day, and it would have the size, the appearance,
+and somewhat the taste of a lump of sugar.
+
+Then she halved the little heap of arsenic medicine as exactly as she
+could. There were nine powders in all. To produce the symptoms of
+poisoning in herself, she had taken four from her old supply, that
+evening. Half of nine would be four and a half, and that would not be
+too much. She mixed enough wet sugar and gum with each little pile to
+fill one of each of the smaller moulds, pressing the sticky mass firmly
+into the paper.
+
+When all was finished, she carefully cleaned the marble top of the
+chest of drawers, and threw what little of the coarser powder remained
+into the ashes of the fire, in which a few coals still glowed. The heat
+would consume the powder immediately.
+
+Having done this, she set the three little moulds on the warm marble
+hearthstone to dry, took the remainder of the package of coarser powder,
+twisted the stiff paper closely, so that it should not open, took the
+stockings from the keyholes, and, candle in hand, left the room, locking
+the door softly behind her. She made no noise as she traversed the dim
+rooms, in her felt slippers; but she avoided the yellow drawing-room and
+passed through a passage behind it. Her nerves were singularly good, but
+since Bosio's death she did not like to be alone in that room at night.
+Bosio had been fond of dabbling in spiritism and such things, and they
+had often talked about the possibility of coming back after death, in
+that very room, promising each other that, if it were possible, the one
+who died first would try to communicate with the other. Matilde turned
+aside from the room in which they had said those things to each other.
+
+She walked more and more cautiously as she came to the other end of the
+long apartment, where Veronica lived, and she stopped in a dark corridor
+before the door of Elettra's room. It was not ajar this time, but
+closed. Matilde did not hesitate, and began to turn the handle very
+slowly. Then she pushed the door and looked in, shading her candle with
+her hand, from her eyes, so as to look over it. She had determined, if
+she found the woman in bed, to wake her boldly, to say that she felt ill
+again and to tell her to go and heat some water. That would have taken
+some time. But Elettra was not there, and the bed, as usual of late, was
+untouched.
+
+Matilde looked about her hastily, at the same time extracting the
+package from the wide pocket of her dressing-gown. The furniture was
+scant and simple--the bed, a table covered with things belonging to
+Veronica, beside which lay sewing-materials, two chairs, a shabby chest
+of drawers, a deal washstand--that was all. Italian servants are not
+accustomed to very luxurious quarters. A couple of coarse, uncoloured
+prints of saints were tacked to the wall over the bed, and a bit of a
+dusty olive branch, from the last Palm Sunday, nine months ago, was
+stuck behind one of them.
+
+Matilde looked about her, and hesitated a moment. Then, setting the
+candlestick down, she knelt upon the floor, and thrust the package as
+far as she could under the chest of drawers. Of all the things she had
+to do, in the course of that night and the following day, this was the
+only one with which any danger was connected, for at any moment Elettra
+might have come from Veronica's room to her own. The thing was possible,
+but not probable, between three and four o'clock in the morning. It did
+not happen, and when Matilde left the room and softly closed the door
+behind her, all was safe.
+
+Before she went to bed, she entered the dining-room, poured herself out
+a glass of strong Sicilian wine from a decanter on the sideboard and
+drank it at a draught, for she was very tired. She left the decanter and
+the glass on the table, so that any one might see them. If by any remote
+possibility some wakeful person had chanced to hear her moving about in
+the night, she would say that she had felt ill, and had left her room in
+order to find the stimulant. She thought of every possible detail which
+could in any way hereafter be brought up in evidence.
+
+At last she went back to her room, unlocked the door, and locked herself
+in.
+
+Her plan was simple, though the details of it were complicated, so far
+as the preparation was concerned. It was an extremely bold plan, but one
+not at all likely to fail in the execution. Almost all the difficulty
+had lain in the preparations, and she had spared no pains and no
+suffering for herself, in the preliminaries.
+
+She knew the story of Elettra's husband very well, and of how he had
+been murdered by peasants near Muro in trying to collect the exorbitant
+rents Macomer had attempted to exact. She was a good enough judge of
+character to see that Elettra had the revengeful disposition common to
+many of the southern hill people, and the woman's dark complexion,
+sombre eyes, and thin frame would all help to strengthen the impression
+in the mind of an unprejudiced judge.
+
+She intended to make it appear that Elettra had poisoned the whole
+family, beginning with Matilde herself, out of revenge for her dead
+husband. Veronica was to die, but Gregorio and Matilde herself would
+only suffer a certain amount of pain for a few hours, and then recover.
+She had begun by half poisoning herself, both to remove all suspicion,
+and as a sort of experiment, to be sure that she was giving herself and
+her husband a sufficient amount to produce the real symptoms of
+poisoning by arsenic. No half measures, no mere acting, would be of any
+avail.
+
+The stuff in the package wrapped in coarse paper was an almost pure salt
+of arsenic, sold by grocers as rat-poison.
+
+The two small lumps of sugar and arsenic medicine were for herself and
+her husband; the large lump of almost pure poison was for Veronica.
+
+In the examination which would follow upon the deed, the package of
+rat-poison would be found under the chest of drawers in the maid's room,
+half empty. It would be discovered that every alternate paper of
+Matilde's medicine had been tampered with, and it would be supposed
+that Matilde had at the first time taken one of those containing poison,
+whereas the doctor who had attended her had taken the next, which was
+untouched and only had medicine in it.
+
+She intended to make tea on the following afternoon in Veronica's room.
+She could easily find an excuse for bringing in Gregorio who, like many
+modern Italians, had acquired the habit of drinking tea every day. She
+herself would make the tea, and put in the sugar and cream. Elettra
+would, as usual, have brought in the tea-tray with the silver urn, for
+Veronica always preferred being served by her maid when she had anything
+in her own room. It would go hard, if Matilde could not divert
+Veronica's attention for one moment while she dropped the lumps into the
+cups, having concealed them in her handkerchief beforehand. There would
+be no servant in the room, for Elettra would have gone out. Gregorio
+would know beforehand what was to be done and would help to divert
+Veronica at the right moment. Arsenic had little or no taste, and
+Veronica would drink her cup readily like the rest.
+
+She would die before the next morning. That was certain. Everything
+would tend to throw the suspicion of having attempted to commit a
+horrible wholesale murder, upon Elettra. The will could be kept back
+until the first uproar and excitement should be over. Then Matilde
+would have the fortune, Gregorio would be saved, and Elettra would be
+condemned to penal servitude for life.
+
+It was certainly a very bold plan, and Matilde did not see where it
+could fail.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+Matilde received on the following morning a curious letter which
+surprised and startled her. She had risen at last, grey and weary of
+face, with heavy eyes and drawn lips, to face the deed she meant to do.
+The sky was overcast, but it was not raining yet, though it soon would.
+She had risen before ringing for her maid, and had carefully removed the
+paper from the three little cakes of white stuff which she had made. It
+had to be done cleverly, for the smaller ones seemed likely to crumble;
+but the large one was quite consistent. She had hidden them all in the
+drawer she kept locked; then she had unfastened her door and had rung
+the bell. It was past nine o'clock, and her maid had brought her a
+letter with her coffee.
+
+It was very short, but the few words it contained were exceedingly
+disquieting. It was accompanied by a card on which Matilde read
+'Giuditta Astarita, Sonnambula,' and the address was below, in one
+corner. The few words of the letter, written in a subtle, sloping,
+feminine handwriting, correctly spelt and grammatically well expressed,
+ran as follows:--
+
+"The spirit of B.M. wishes to make you an important communication and
+torments me continually. I pray you to come to me soon, on any day
+between ten and three o'clock. In order that you may be assured that it
+is really the spirit of B.M., and not a deceiving spirit, I am to remind
+you that on the evening of the ninth of this month, when you and he were
+alone together in a room which is all yellow, you laid your hand upon
+his head and stroked his hair and said: 'It is to save me.' The spirit
+tells me that you will remember this and understand it, and know that he
+is not a deceiving spirit."
+
+Matilde read the short letter many times over, and her hands trembled
+when she at last folded it and returned it to its envelope. A sensation
+of curiosity and of ghastly horror ran through her hair, more than once,
+like a cool breeze, and with it came the infinite desire for some one
+word of truth out of the black beyond, from the one being whom she had
+loved so fiercely.
+
+But in such things she was sceptical, and she sought to make some theory
+which should explain the writer of the letter into a common impostor.
+She could find none. She remembered the act and the words that had gone
+with it. Only she and Bosio had known, and he was dead--he had died
+four-and-twenty hours after she had touched his hair and had said: 'It
+is to save me.' And she knew him well. He was not, under any
+circumstances, a man to speak of such things to a third person. Then,
+how did this Giuditta Astarita know what Matilde had said and done? It
+was not natural, and not natural meant supernatural--supernatural meant
+the possibility of communication, and she had loved the dead man with
+all her big, sinful soul.
+
+It would be long before the time came for the deed, in the late
+afternoon, and the terrible day must be disposed of in some way or
+other. She was not afraid of going mad, nor of losing her nerve, nor of
+making a mistake at the last moment, but even to her courage and
+strength the hours before her were hours of fear.
+
+She planned her day. The doctor would come, in the first place, at about
+ten o'clock. He would recommend her to be quiet, to take a little broth
+for luncheon, and a little more broth for dinner. She smiled grimly, as
+she thought of his probable instructions, and she knew what she could do
+and bear at pinch of pressing need. He would also tell her that the
+powder contained only just the right quantity of medicine, and that she
+must have been poisoned in some other way. She knew that.
+
+Afterwards, Gregorio would need his instructions. He was to be at home
+in the afternoon, and to come and drink his tea in Veronica's room when
+Matilde sent for him. Just when Matilde was pouring out the tea, he was
+to distract Veronica's attention from the tea-table for a moment. She
+would not tell him that she intended to half poison him, too, for he was
+a coward, and at the last minute, dreading pain, he would not drink from
+his cup. She knew that well enough. She would tell him when he began to
+suffer the effects, and assure him that he was not going to die. Again
+she smiled grimly, and chancing to be just then before the mirror, she
+saw that her face had all at once grown old since yesterday. And in
+spite of her strength of body and will, she felt weak and exhausted, and
+hated the hours that were to be between.
+
+But when she had spoken to Gregorio, she would go out alone, on foot.
+And she knew that she should find the address given on Giuditta
+Astarita's card, and enter the house and see the woman who had written
+to her, and hear the message that was promised. If she left her own
+house, her feet must take her that way, whether she would or not.
+
+And so it all happened just as she foresaw. But she had not known that
+in threading the intricate, dark streets she would almost forget what
+she was to do that day, in the mad hope of the one more word from
+beyond. She had not known that at the thought her eyes would brighten
+eagerly, the colour would come back to her cheeks, and the strength to
+her limbs as she walked. After all, the strongest thing that had ever
+been in her, or ever could be, was that passionate, dominating,
+despotic devotion to one being; and the merest suggestion that he might
+not be gone quite beyond the reach of spiritual touch had power to veil
+the awful future of the day, when her hand was already uplifted to kill.
+She was not a woman to hesitate at the last moment, unstrung and
+womanishly trembling because the victim was young, and smiled, and had
+innocent eyes. And yet, perhaps, had she not gone that day to answer the
+spirit-seer's summons and to catch at the straw thrown to her from
+beyond the grave, she might have seen a reason for changing her mind,
+and all might have happened very differently. But Fate does not sleep,
+though she seems sometimes to nod and forget to kill.
+
+Matilde came to the house as the clock struck eleven, and entered by the
+dark, arched door, and went up the damp, stone steps, as Bosio had done
+a fortnight earlier. She was admitted by the decent woman whose one eye
+was of a china blue, and she waited for Giuditta in the same small
+sitting-room, of which the one heavily curtained window looked out upon
+an inner court. She did not know that Bosio had ever been there, but in
+her thoughts of him she felt his presence, and turned, with a shiver
+under her hair, to look behind her as she stood waiting before the
+window, just where he had stood. The day was dark, and the room was all
+dim and cold, with its stiff, ugly furniture and its bare, tiled floor.
+The corners were shadowy, and her eyes searched in them uneasily, and
+she would not turn her back upon them again and look out of the windows.
+Then the door opened noiselessly, and Giuditta Astarita entered, in her
+loose black silk gown, with her little bunch of charms against the evil
+eye, hanging by a chain from a button hole.
+
+The china blue eyes looked steadily at Matilde, out of the unhealthy
+face, but the woman gave no sign to show that she knew who her visitor
+was. Her hoarse voice pronounced the usual words: "You wish to consult
+me?"
+
+"You wrote to me. I am the Countess Macomer," answered Matilde, lifting
+her veil, which was a thick one.
+
+The expression in the woman's eyes did not change, but she still looked
+steadily at Matilde for three or four seconds.
+
+"Yes," she said. "I thought so. I am glad that you have come, for I have
+suffered much on your account."
+
+She looked as though she were suffering, Matilde thought. Then she placed
+the chairs, made the countess sit down, and drew the curtains, just as
+she had done for Bosio.
+
+Then, in the dark, there was silence. It seemed to Matilde a long time,
+and she grew nervous, and moved uneasily. Then, without warning, she
+heard that other voice, clear, deep, and bell-like, which Bosio had
+heard, and she trembled.
+
+"I see a name written on your breast,--Bosio Macomer."
+
+The darkness, the voice, the shiver of anticipation, unnerved the strong
+woman.
+
+"What does he say to me?" she asked unsteadily.
+
+Again there was a long silence, longer than the first, and by many
+degrees more disturbing to Matilda, as she waited for the answer.
+
+"Bosio loves you," said the voice. "He is watching over you. He tells
+you to remember what you promised each other in the room that is all
+yellow, long ago,--that the one that should die first would visit the
+other. He tells you that it is possible, and that he has kept his
+promise. He loves you always, and you will be spirits together."
+
+Matilde felt that in the darkness she was horribly pale, but she was no
+longer frightened.
+
+"Will he come to me when I am alone?" she asked, and her voice did not
+shake.
+
+"I will ask him," answered the clear voice, and again there was silence,
+but only for a few seconds. "This is his answer," continued the voice.
+"He cannot come to you when you are alone, as yet. By and by he will
+come. But he watches over you. For the present he can only speak with
+you through Giuditta Astarita, who is now asleep."
+
+"Is she asleep?" asked Matilde.
+
+"She is in a trance," the voice replied. "I speak through her, but when
+she awakes, she will not know what I have said. The spirits come to her
+directly sometimes, when she is awake, and they torment her. Bosio has
+been coming to her often, and has made her suffer, until she wrote to
+you. The spirits themselves suffer when they wish to communicate with
+the living, and cannot."
+
+"What are you?" inquired Matilda.
+
+"I am Giuditta's familiar. The spirits generally speak, through me, to
+her, when she is in the trance."
+
+"And she knows nothing of what you say?"
+
+"Nothing, after she is awake."
+
+"Is Bosio suffering now?" asked Matilde, gravely but eagerly, after a
+moment's pause.
+
+"I will ask him." And another brief pause followed. "Yes," continued the
+voice. "He is suffering because he has left you. He suffers remorse. He
+cannot be happy unless he can communicate with you."
+
+"Can you see him? Can you see his face?"
+
+"Yes," replied the voice, without hesitation. "He is very pale. His hair
+is soft, brown, and silky, with a few grey streaks in it. His eyes are
+gentle and tender, and his beard is like his hair, soft and like silk.
+He is as you last saw him alive, when you kissed him by the fireplace in
+the room that is yellow, just before he died. He loves you, as he did
+then."
+
+Such evidence of unnatural knowledge might have convinced a more
+sceptical mind than Matilde's of the fact that the somnambulist could at
+least read her thoughts and memories from her mind as from a book. It
+was impossible that any one but herself could know how, and in what
+room, she had kissed him for the last time, a few minutes before his
+end. Again the cold shiver ran under her hair, and she could not speak
+again for a few moments.
+
+"Does he know what I am going to do to-day?" she asked at last, in a
+very low voice.
+
+"I will ask him."
+
+The silence which followed was the longest of all that there had been.
+
+"I cannot see him any more," said the voice, speaking more faintly. "He
+is gone. He will communicate with you again. I cannot find him. Giuditta
+is tired--she will--" The last words were hardly audible, and the voice
+died away altogether.
+
+In the dark, Matilde heard something like a yawn, as of a person waking
+from sleep. Then Giuditta's croaking voice spoke to her.
+
+"I am tired," she said. "The spirits have kept me a long time. Did you
+hear anything that you wished to hear?"
+
+"Yes. I heard much."
+
+While Matilde was speaking, the woman drew the curtain back, and the
+dull steel light of the gloomy day filled the small room. But after the
+darkness it was almost dazzling. Matilde looked at Giuditta's face, and
+saw the same staring, china eyes, and the same listless expression in
+the unhealthy features. She had felt a sensation of relief when the
+voice had been unable to answer the last question she had asked; for she
+still thought that there might be a doubt as to Giuditta's total
+forgetfulness on waking. But that doubt was greatly diminished by the
+woman's indifferent and weary look.
+
+"I hope that he will not torment me so much after this," said Giuditta.
+"I have lost my sleep for several nights."
+
+Matilde, believing that the somnambulist was one person when awake and
+quite another when asleep, did not care to enter into conversation with
+her in her present state. The vivid, terrible future of the day returned
+to her mind, too. She had been momentarily unstrung and was in haste to
+be gone and to be alone. She had her purse in her hand, and stood still
+a moment, hesitating.
+
+"I generally ask twenty-five francs for a consultation," said Giuditta.
+"But I am so much obliged to you for coming to free me from this
+obsession, that I shall not charge anything to-day."
+
+"No," answered Matilde, quietly. "I am not accustomed to receiving
+anything without paying for it. But I thank you."
+
+She laid the money upon the polished table, beside the volumes in their
+gilt bindings.
+
+"Very well," said Giuditta. "If you desire it, I thank you. If you
+should wish to come again, I am always to be found between ten and three
+o'clock."
+
+"I will come again," answered Matilde.
+
+She passed through the door while Giuditta held it open for her, and in
+the passage she was met by the one-eyed woman. But she was more unnerved
+and less observant than Bosio had been, and she did not notice the
+extraordinary resemblance between the colour of the woman's one eye and
+that of Giuditta's two. She descended the stairs slowly, feeling dizzy
+at the turnings, but steadying herself as she went down each straight
+flight. She made her way quickly to the nearest large thoroughfare and
+took the first passing cab to get home, for she felt that she had not
+strength left to walk much more on that day.
+
+She had a moment of weakness and doubt, as she went up her own stairs,
+knowing that in half an hour she must sit down to table with Gregorio
+and with Veronica. It would be the last time, for Veronica would never
+sit down with them again. She had not realized exactly how it was to be.
+Henceforth, at that table, two places were to be vacant, of two persons
+dead within a fortnight, the one by his own hand, the other by hers; and
+from that day, when she and her husband sat there, the shadows of those
+two would be between them always.
+
+She paused on the staircase, and steadied herself with her hand against
+the wall. She knew that from now until it was done, she should have no
+moment in which she could allow herself the pitiful luxury of feeling
+weak. And as she stood there, and thought of the strange messages she
+had but now received from beyond the grave, she felt the terror of what
+the dead man's spirit might say to her when all was done, and Veronica
+lay dead in her own room upstairs--in this coming night.
+
+The fear followed her up the steps like a living thing, its hand on her
+shoulder, its cold lips close to her ears, breathing fright and
+whispering terror. And it went in with her to her own room, and kept
+freezing company with her throughout a long half-hour of mental agony.
+It could not bend her, but it almost broke her. If she could stand and
+walk and see, she would go to Veronica's room that afternoon and kill
+her. She hated her, too. She hated her all the more bitterly because she
+felt afraid to kill her, and knew that she must conquer her fear before
+she could do it. She hated her most savagely because, but for her, Bosio
+Macomer would still have been alive. As though she had been herself
+about to die, the great pictures of her own past rose in fierce colours,
+and faced her with vivid life in the very midst of death. And with them
+came the clear echo of that bell-like voice she had heard speaking
+message for message between her and the man she had lost.
+
+Her soul was not in the balance, for the die was cast and the deed was
+to be done. But she suffered then, as though she had still been free to
+choose. She was not. The atrocious vision of an infamous disgrace stood
+between her and all possibility of relenting. She saw again the coarse
+striped clothes, the cropped hair, the hands and feet shackled in irons,
+the hideous faces of women murderers and thieves around her. Well, that
+was the alternative, if she let Veronica live--all that, or death.
+
+Of course, in such a case she would have chosen death. But it was
+characteristic of her that from beginning to end she never thought of
+taking her own life. She was too vital by nature. She had loved life
+long and well; she loved it even now that it was not worth living. She
+never even asked herself the question, whether it would not be better
+and easier to end all and leave Gregorio to his fate. Gregorio! Her
+smooth lip curled in contempt. A coward, a thief, a fool--why should she
+care what became of him? Coldly and sincerely she wished that she were
+going to kill him, and not Veronica. She despised the one, and hated the
+other; of the two, she would rather have let the hated one live. But to
+die herself seemed absurd to her, because she really feared death with
+all her heart, and clung to life with all her strong, vital nature. If
+the lives of all Naples could have saved her own, death should have had
+them all, rather than take hers. To live was a passion of itself--even
+to live lonely, with a despicable and hated companion in the
+consciousness of the enormous and irrevocable crime by which that living
+was to be secured to her.
+
+There was a common, straight-backed chair in the room, between the chest
+of drawers and the wall. Through that interminable half-hour she sat
+upright upon it, her hands folded upon her knees, quite cold and
+motionless, her eyes closed, and her lips parted in an expression of
+bodily pain. Then she rose suddenly, all straight at once, tall and
+unbending, and stood still while one might have counted ten, and she
+opened and shut her eyes slowly, two or three times, as though she were
+comparing the outer world with that within her. So Clytemnestra might
+have stood, before she laid her hands to the axe.
+
+She did not mean to be alone again until all was over. It would be
+easier then. She would have her own bodily pain to bear. There would be
+confusion in the house--doctors--screaming women--trembling
+men-servants--her husband's groans; for he was a coward, and would bear
+ill the little suffering which would help to save him. Then they would
+tell her that Veronica was dead; and then--then she could sleep for
+hours, nights, days, calmly, and at rest.
+
+She bathed her tired face in cold water, and went to face them at
+luncheon. With iron will, she ate and drank and talked, bearing herself
+bravely, as some great actresses have acted out their parts, while death
+waited for them at the stage door.
+
+Had the weather been fine, she would have persuaded Veronica to drive
+with her, as on the previous day. But it was dark and gloomy, and there
+would be rain before night. She talked with the young girl, and began to
+make plans with her for going away. Gregorio ate nothing, and looked on,
+uttering a monosyllable now and then, and laughing frantically, two or
+three times. Nobody paid any attention to his laughter, now, for the
+household had grown used to it. It might break out just when a servant
+was handing him something; the man would merely draw back a step, and
+wait until the count was quiet again, before offering the dish.
+
+Over their coffee, Matilde read fragments of news from the day's paper,
+and made comments on what was happening in the world. Veronica thought
+her unnaturally talkative and excited, but put it down to the reaction
+after the poisoning of the previous night. Matilde drank two cups of
+coffee instead of one. Macomer smoked one cigarette after another, and
+sent for a sweet liqueur, of which he swallowed two glasses. He did not
+look at Veronica, when he could avoid doing so.
+
+At last Matilde rose and asked Veronica to allow her to bring her work
+and sit with her in her room, to which the young girl of course
+assented.
+
+"By and by, we will have tea there," said Matilde. "Perhaps you will let
+your uncle come and have a cup with us--he always drinks tea in the
+afternoon."
+
+"Certainly," answered Veronica, quietly. "Will you come at four o'clock,
+Uncle Gregorio? Or is that too early?"
+
+"Thank you. I will come at four, my dear," said Gregorio; and Matilde
+saw that his knees shook as he moved.
+
+In Veronica's room the two women sat through the early part of the
+afternoon, and still Matilde talked almost continuously. That was the
+only outward sign that she was not in her usual state, and Veronica
+scarcely noticed it, for as the time wore on, she spoke less excitedly,
+and more often waited for an answer to what she said. Of course, the
+conversation turned for some time upon what had occurred on the
+preceding evening. Matilde scouted the idea that any one had attempted
+to poison her. It was perfectly clear, she said, that, although the
+paper which the doctor had carried away to examine only contained
+exactly the right amount of medicine, the one from which Matilda had
+taken her dose must have had too much in it. She was quite out of the
+habit of taking arsenic, too, and a very slight overdose would always
+produce the symptoms of poisoning. Veronica could see that she had felt
+no serious ill effects from the accident. As for thinking that any one
+had given her poison intentionally, it was utterly and entirely absurd.
+Matilde refused to entertain the idea even for a moment, and presently
+she went on to speak of other things, and soon fell back upon making
+plans for the winter. She did not allow the conversation to flag, for
+she feared lest Veronica should be tired of sitting in her room and
+suddenly propose to go somewhere else, just for the sake of the change.
+It was essential to Matilde's plan that Elettra should bring the things
+for tea.
+
+She did not allow herself to think, and she succeeded in staving off
+silence. Now that the deed was so near, it seemed unreal. Once she
+touched her handkerchief in her pocket, and felt the three prepared
+lumps concealed in it, to assure herself that she was not imagining all
+she had done, and meant to do. Then, suddenly, she felt that her brow
+was moist, a thing she could hardly remember having noticed before in
+her life. But the moisture disappeared almost instantly, and her skin
+was dry and burning.
+
+Then the time came, and it was four o'clock.
+
+Elettra opened the door and brought in the tea things on a large silver
+tray, set them down, and went to get the little tea-table, that was made
+with a shelf below, between the four legs, as a table with two stories.
+
+"Let me make it," said Matilde, cheerfully; "I like to do it."
+
+She laid down her work, and Elettra set the table before her knees, with
+its high silver urn, and all the necessary little implements. Veronica
+found herself on the other side of it, for Matilde had carefully chosen
+her seat when she had first come, placing herself in such a way with
+regard to Veronica as to make the present result almost inevitable
+unless the girl moved into a very inconvenient position.
+
+The big grey Maltese cat came in through the still open door, in the
+hope of cream at the tea hour, as usual. The creature rubbed itself
+along Elettra's skirt while she was lighting the spirit lamp under the
+urn, which contained water already almost boiling.
+
+"Will you kindly call the count?" said Matilde, addressing the maid.
+
+Elettra left the room, and Matilde settled herself to make the tea, as
+women do, raising her elbow a little on each side and then dropping them
+again, bending her face down to see whether the lamp were burning well,
+opening the teapot, pouring a little hot water into it, opening and
+shutting the tea-caddy, and settling each spoon in each saucer in a
+dainty and utterly futile way.
+
+The cat rubbed its grey sides against Veronica's skirt and against her
+little slipper, as she sat there, one knee crossed over the other. The
+young girl bent down and stroked it, and hesitated, looking at the
+tea-table, and not wishing to disturb the things to take a saucer for
+the cat until the tea was made. As she bent down, Matilde took her
+handkerchief quietly from her pocket and laid it quite naturally in her
+lap. Veronica, being on the other side of the table and the urn, could
+not possibly see what she did.
+
+Gregorio came in. Elettra had opened the door from without, for him to
+pass. She stood on the threshold a moment, and looked towards the table,
+to see whether anything had been forgotten. Then she closed the door,
+and went away, leaving the three together. The water boiled almost
+immediately; and Gregorio was just sitting down when Matilde poured the
+water out of the teapot, and part in the tea. She filled the pot, and
+leaned back in her chair to allow it to draw a few moments.
+
+The silence was intense during several seconds. Only the purring of the
+cat was heard, as Veronica, letting her arm hang down without stooping,
+gently rubbed its broad head. It pushed itself under her hand, bending
+its back to her caress, turned quickly, and pushed its head under her
+hand once more, doing the same thing again and again.
+
+Matilde sat upright, lifted the cover of the teapot an instant, and then
+began to move the cups. Veronica, whose thoughts were intent upon the
+animal she was touching, and which, as she knew, was begging for cream,
+immediately leaned forward, and took from under the silver cream jug a
+saucer which Elettra had especially brought for the purpose. She poured
+a little cream into it, and, bending down, placed it on the lower shelf
+of the tea-table, and gently pushed the cat towards it.
+
+Matilde saw her opportunity, while Veronica was stooping; and in that
+moment she distributed the three lumps from her handkerchief in the
+three cups before her, and at once began to pour tea into the one
+containing the largest lump. The cat, for some reason, wished the saucer
+to be set upon the floor; and Veronica still bent down, until it sprang
+lightly upon the lower shelf, and began the slow and dainty operation of
+lapping the cream.
+
+During all this, Gregorio, anxious to seem unaware of anything
+extraordinary, and not really knowing how his wife meant to put the
+poison into the tea, was nervously looking away from her, sometimes
+towards the window, at the fast-fading light of the grey afternoon on
+the opposite house, and sometimes at Veronica's head as she bent down.
+When she looked up, Matilde was holding out her cup to her, having put
+some cream into it and a lump of real sugar to really sweeten the tea.
+
+Veronica thanked her, drew a little nearer to the table, held her cup on
+her knee, and took a thin slice of bread and butter, which she proceeded
+to eat, stirring the tea slowly with her left hand.
+
+Matilde meanwhile filled the other two cups, and handed one to her
+husband, who took it in silence, unsuspectingly.
+
+"I can never understand why the tea we make here is better than mine,"
+she said, smiling. "It is the same tea, of course. But it certainly is
+better in your room."
+
+"Is it?" asked Veronica, carelessly and looking down at the cup she held
+on her knee, while she slowly stirred the contents.
+
+As though to verify Matilde's assertion, she bent a little, raised the
+cup, and tasted the liquid. It was still too hot to drink, and she
+stirred it again on her knee. She noticed that although it had been
+sweet enough to her taste, there was a lump of sugar, not yet dissolved,
+still in the cup: she never took but one piece, and her aunt had
+evidently put in two.
+
+Still holding the cup on her knee, where Matilde could not possibly see
+it, she quietly fished the superfluous piece of sugar out with her
+teaspoon, and bending down again she deposited it in the saucer from
+which the cat was lapping the last drops of cream. She noticed that it
+was only dissolved at the corners, but she had observed before that one
+sometimes finds a lump of sugar which remains hard a long time. The cat
+would eat it, for it liked sugar, as some cats do.
+
+Then she filled the cat's saucer again. By that time what she had was
+cooler, and she drank some of it.
+
+"It is certainly very good tea," she said thoughtfully. "I think you
+probably make it better than I do."
+
+As she drank again, Gregorio's unearthly laugh cracked and jarred in the
+room. But neither he nor his wife had seen what Veronica had done. They
+were staring hard at each other, and for the second time Matilde felt
+that her brow was moist.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+The Maltese cat died before six o'clock. The poor creature suffered
+horribly, and Elettra carried it off to her room that Veronica might not
+see its agony. But Veronica followed her maid. Elettra had laid the
+beast upon a folded rug on the floor and knelt beside it. It seemed half
+paralyzed already, but when Veronica knelt down, too, and tried to
+caress it, the cat sprang from them both in sudden terror. It stood
+still an instant, wagging its head while its shoulders contracted
+violently. Then it glided under the chest of drawers to die alone, if
+possible, after the manner of animals of prey. The girl and her maid
+heard its rattling breathing and its convulsions: its body thumped
+against the lower drawer. Then, while Veronica listened and Elettra
+bent, candle in hand, till her face touched the floor, to see it and get
+it out, all at once it was quiet.
+
+"Get up," said Veronica, nervously, for she was fond of the creature.
+"Help me to move the chest of drawers out. Then we can get it out."
+
+"It is dead," answered Elettra, still on the floor, and thrusting her
+long, thin arm under the piece of furniture. "But I cannot pull him
+out," she added. "He is so big!"
+
+She got upon her feet, and together, without much difficulty, the two
+dragged the chest of drawers away from the wall, and then bent down
+behind it, with the candle, to look at the dead animal.
+
+"It is quite dead," said Elettra. "Poor beast! What can have happened to
+it?" Veronica was really sorry, but of the two the maid had been the
+more fond of the cat. "It must have eaten something."
+
+Elettra looked up, suspiciously, and Veronica drew back a step, half
+straightening herself. Her foot touched something close to the wall. She
+stooped again and picked up the package of rat-poison which Matilda had
+hidden under the chest of drawers on the previous night. She looked at
+it closely. It had evidently not lain long where she had found it, for
+there was no dust on it, and the coarse paper had an unmistakably fresh
+look. The indication of the contents was written upon it in ink, in
+illiterate characters.
+
+"It is rat-poison!" exclaimed Veronica. "The cat must have eaten some of
+it! How did it come here?"
+
+She looked at her maid curiously.
+
+"The cat could not have wrapped it up and folded in the ends of the
+paper," observed Elettra.
+
+"That is true."
+
+They looked at each other, in considerable astonishment. Then they
+talked about it. Veronica asked whether Elettra had complained that
+there were mice in her room, and whether some stupid servant, having a
+package of rat-poison at hand, had not stuck it under the chest of
+drawers, not even thinking of opening the paper. Elettra was suspicious.
+
+"At all events, Excellency," she said, "remember that you found it, and
+that it was carefully closed."
+
+Suddenly, as they were speaking together, Veronica's face changed, and
+she grasped the corner of the piece of furniture convulsively. Though
+she had taken the poisoned lump from her cup in time to save her life,
+enough had been dissolved already to make her very ill.
+
+Again there was dire confusion and fear in the Palazzo Macomer, by
+night. It was a wholesale poisoning. Veronica, Matilde, and Gregorio
+were all seized nearly at the same time.
+
+Several of the servants left the house within half an hour after it was
+known that their masters were all poisoned. Within a fortnight, Bosio
+Macomer had killed himself and there had been two poisonings. Matilde's
+maid and a housemaid, the cook, and the butler went quietly to their
+several rooms, took the most valuable of their own possessions, and
+slipped out. They felt that the house was doomed, with every one in it.
+But some one had gone for the doctor, and he arrived in a short time.
+Matilde, to whom all the proper antidotes had been given on the previous
+day, might have taken them at once, but in the first place, weak and
+still suffering the consequence of the first dangerous experiment, she
+was almost unconscious with pain, and secondly, if she had taken an
+antidote herself, it would have seemed strange that she should not
+administer it to Veronica, or at least send some one to the young girl
+to do so. Gregorio lay howling with pain in his room. But Matilde had
+warned him that it would come, after they had left Veronica's room
+together, and he knew that everything depended on his not hinting at the
+truth.
+
+The doctor came to Matilde first. Far away, at the other end of the
+house, Elettra was with Veronica. She had known what they had done for
+the countess on the preceding evening, and while the servants were
+screaming and running hither and thither through the apartments, like
+scared sheep, the woman had quietly got oil and warm water, and was
+giving both to her mistress. She knew that a footman had gone for the
+doctor. When Veronica had first been seized with pain, Elettra had
+thrust the package of poison into her own pocket, and it was still
+there.
+
+By the time the antidote began to act, Elettra believed that the doctor
+must be in the house. Not wishing to leave Veronica even for a moment,
+she rang the bell. But no one came. The woman suspected that the doctor
+had gone first to Matilde, and she decided in a moment that it was
+better to leave her mistress alone for two or three minutes than not to
+have the physician's assistance at once. She hastened to Matilde's room.
+As she passed a half-open door the package of poison in her pocket
+struck against the door-post and reminded her of its presence, if she
+needed reminding.
+
+The doctor was bending over Matilde, who seemed very weak. As Elettra
+entered, she saw that there was no one else in the room. A drawer in a
+piece of furniture stood open as Matilde had left it, and as Elettra
+passed, she dropped the package in, and with a movement of her hand
+covered it with some folded handkerchiefs, from a little heap, shutting
+the drawer with a quick push. Neither Matilde nor the doctor saw her do
+it. As Elettra spoke to the doctor, the countess started at the sound of
+her voice. She thought the maid had come to say that Veronica was dead.
+Almost violently the woman dragged the physician away with her, and
+Matilde smiled in the midst of her sufferings.
+
+It would be useless to chronicle the details of the night and of the
+following morning. The three poisoned persons were almost recovered
+within twelve hours. Of the servants who had fled, Matilde's maid was
+the first to come back when she learned that no one was dead.
+
+As the night wore on towards dawn, and the countess learned that
+Veronica was alive and not at all likely to die, she silently turned her
+face to the wall and tore her pocket-handkerchief slowly with her teeth.
+In the morning, when the doctor was there, the maid was alone in the
+room, arranging things as quickly as she could, and hoping that in the
+confusion of the previous night, her absence might not have been
+observed. In the drawer, amongst the handkerchiefs and other things, she
+came upon the package, looked at it in surprise, turned it round and
+round, and read the words written on it. Then, thinking that she had
+discovered the clue to the attempted wholesale murder, and that she
+might obtain pardon for her defection, she came to the bedside and held
+it up to the doctor. He, too, looked at it, and read the words.
+Matilde's heavy eyes opened, and then stared as she recognized the
+package. She thought that of course it had been found in Elettra's room,
+and was sure of the answer, when she put the question to her maid.
+
+"Where did you find it?" she asked faintly.
+
+"In the drawer, here, Excellency."
+
+"In the drawer!" cried Matilde, starting up, and leaning on her elbow,
+as though electrified. "In the drawer? Here, in my room? Why--it was--"
+
+Her head sank back, and her eyes closed. She had nearly betrayed
+herself, for she was very weak.
+
+"It was not there yesterday--I am sure of it," she said feebly.
+
+"Give it to me," said the doctor, sternly, and he put it into his
+pocket.
+
+All that day Matilde lay in her room. Gregorio had recovered. He came to
+her, and when they were alone, he reproached her bitterly and upbraided
+her in unmeasured language for her failure. Veronica was alive, and his
+terror of the ruin before him grew stronger with the physical weakness.
+He was a coward always, but he was now half mad with fear. He laughed
+hideously, and his face twitched. He sawed the air with extraordinary
+gestures while he walked up and down in his wife's room, speaking
+excitedly in a low tone. Matilde turned to the wall and answered
+nothing. For she could not have found anything to say.
+
+From time to time, during the day, she had news of Veronica. Elettra
+never left her mistress but once, shortly before twelve o'clock. She
+went out for a quarter of an hour, and came back bringing fresh eggs,
+bread, and wine, which she had bought herself.
+
+"It is poor fare, Excellency," she said, as she boiled the eggs in the
+tea-urn, "but it is safe. If you are strong enough this afternoon, we
+will go away. This is not a good house. I do not understand what was
+done; but it was done to kill you and not to hurt them."
+
+"I think it was," said Veronica. "I am not frightened, but I do not
+think that I am safe here."
+
+After she had eaten a little and drunk some wine, she felt stronger and
+wrote a line to the Princess Corleone, asking the latter to receive her
+for a few days, as she was in trouble. In an hour she had an answer.
+Bianca, of course, was ready for her whenever she might come. Elettra
+quickly began to pack such things as her mistress might need
+immediately.
+
+Veronica lay still, listening to Elettra's movements in the next room.
+In a flash she had guessed half the truth, and reflexion now brought her
+most of the rest. She remembered Don Teodoro's earnest face and the
+quiet eyes that had looked at her through the silver spectacles while he
+had been speaking. There had been conviction in them, and even then she
+had felt that he believed the truth of what he said, however mistaken he
+might be. And now she felt that it was not he who had spoken, but Bosio,
+through him, that the warning came from beyond the grave, and that she
+had risked her life in disregarding it. She believed that Bosio had been
+a truthful man, and each detail of what had happened fitted itself to
+the next, to make up the whole story which the priest had told her. All
+but Bosio's love for Matilde, and in that Don Teodoro had misunderstood
+him. He might have loved her in the past. That was possible, and to the
+young girl's mind, in comparison with all that had recently happened,
+the wrong of that love dwindled to an insignificant detail. She had not
+been near enough to loving the man herself to be jealous of his past.
+And she was glad that he had not told Don Teodoro of his love for
+herself.
+
+The rest all grew to distinctness and to the coincidence of the fact
+with the warning. She was brave enough to face danger as well as a man,
+but there was no reason why she should stay where she was, waiting to be
+murdered. She had a right to save herself without despising herself as a
+coward. She therefore said nothing to stop Elettra in her preparations,
+and the maid silently went on with her work in the other room.
+
+She still felt ill and terribly shaken, but she rose softly, to try her
+strength, and she found that after the first moment's dizziness she
+could stand and walk alone. She looked at her hands, and she thought
+that they had shrunk and were thinner than ever. Then she lay down again
+and called Elettra, and bade her prepare her own belongings and then
+come and dress her, when she should have finished.
+
+"Yes, Excellency."
+
+That was almost all that the woman had said, since she had boiled the
+eggs for her mistress's luncheon, and Veronica herself did not speak
+except to give an order about some detail of the packing. It would have
+been impossible to talk of what had happened without speaking clearly
+about Matilde, and Veronica did not wish to do that, though Elettra was
+of her own people and devotedly attached to her.
+
+Elettra had been careful that no one in the household should learn her
+mistress's intention of leaving the palace. Veronica intended to go away
+in a cab, and it would be the question of a moment only to call one.
+When all was ready, Elettra went out for that purpose herself, and
+Veronica went without hesitation to Matilde's room. When she entered,
+the countess was alone, propped with pillows on a low couch near the
+fire. Her large white hands lay listlessly upon the dark shawl that was
+drawn over her, and she had thrown a piece of thick black lace over her
+head. It was nearly four o'clock, and the light was already waning, so
+that, as she lay with her back to the window, Veronica could hardly see
+her face. She raised her head slowly and wearily as the young girl
+entered, and then started visibly, as she recognized her.
+
+"It is I," said Veronica, when she had closed the door.
+
+She came and stood beside the couch on which her aunt lay, and she
+looked down at the reclining woman. Matilde's listless hands suddenly
+clasped each other.
+
+"Yes," she answered, with an effort. "Are you going out? Are you well
+enough to go out?" she asked, adding the last question quickly.
+
+"I should go if I were much more ill than I have been," Veronica
+replied. "I am not coming back."
+
+"Not coming back?" Surprise brought energy into Matilde's voice.
+
+"No. I am not coming back. Do not be astonished. I understand what has
+happened, and I am going to a safer place."
+
+"What? How? I do not understand." Matilde spoke rapidly and unsteadily.
+"You must stay here--Gregorio is going to send for the chief of
+police--there will be an inquiry, and you must answer questions--we
+suspect one of the servants, who has a grudge against your uncle, and
+who has tried to murder us all in revenge--"
+
+"Yes," said Veronica, calmly. "It was well arranged, I am sure. If I had
+not found the rat-poison under the chest of drawers in Elettra's room,
+you might have thrown suspicion upon her, because her husband was
+murdered at Muro. If I had not found my tea too sweet, I should not have
+taken out the second piece and given it to the cat. The taste I had of
+it almost killed me--you have explained the rest to me now. But I knew
+all that I needed to know."
+
+Matilde put her feet to the ground and slowly rose to her feet while
+Veronica was speaking. Then she laid her two hands upon the girl's
+shoulders and stared into her face.
+
+"Do you dare to accuse me of trying to poison you?" she asked in a low,
+fierce voice.
+
+"Take your hands from me!" cried Veronica, thrusting her back. "Call
+your husband. I will accuse you both--you and him."
+
+They were women of the same race and name, and both brave. But the elder
+and stronger felt her nerves growing weak in her when she heard the
+other's voice. Perhaps courageous people recognize courage and
+conviction in others more easily than cowards can. Matilde hesitated.
+
+"Call him!" repeated Veronica, in a tone of command. "I insist upon it.
+He shall hear what I have to say."
+
+"I will call him, that he may see for himself that you are quite mad,"
+answered Matilde. "That is," she added, "if he is well enough to come
+here from his room." And she moved slowly towards the door.
+
+"If I am alive, he is well enough to hear me speak," said the young
+girl.
+
+Matilde stopped, turned, and faced her a moment, as though about to
+speak angrily. Then she went on. It was best, on the whole, to call her
+husband, she thought, though her reasoning was confused and uncertain.
+In her view of matters, the burden of the crime she had tried to commit
+all fell upon him, and she was willing that he should face Veronica, and
+realize what he had done. At the same time she believed herself so safe
+as still to be able to throw the suspicion entirely upon Elettra, though
+Veronica would protect her. Moreover, though she would not have admitted
+the fact, her strength was momentarily so broken that she felt it easier
+to obey the young girl than to visit her and fight out the interview
+alone.
+
+Veronica did not move while she was gone, but stood quite still,
+watching the door. She was very pale, with illness and rising anger, but
+she was not weak, as Matilde was. She had not gone through half so much.
+Presently Matilde returned, followed by Macomer, wrapped in a dark
+velvet dressing-gown, his face white and twitching, his usually smooth
+grey beard unbrushed, and his grey hair in disorder. With drawn lids he
+looked at Veronica, and in his terror he tried to smile, but there was
+something at once cowardly and insolent in the expression--there was
+something else, too, which the young girl did not understand, a sort of
+vacancy of the brow and unnatural weakness of the mouth.
+
+"I am glad that you have come," she said, when the door was shut. "I
+have not much to say, and I wish you to hear it."
+
+They were all standing. Gregorio steadied himself by the head of the
+couch, and was as erect as ever.
+
+"I will tell you something which you do not know," said Veronica, fixing
+her eyes on him. "Before Bosio died he told the whole truth to Don
+Teodoro Maresca, his friend. And the day after his death, Don Teodoro
+came and told it all to me."
+
+"Bosio!" exclaimed Gregorio, his knees shaking. "Bosio told--"
+
+"What did Bosio tell?" asked Matilde, interrupting her husband in a loud
+voice to cover any mistake he might be about to make.
+
+But Veronica had seen Macomer's face and had heard his tone of dread.
+Whatever doubts she still had, disappeared for the last time.
+
+"He told his friend the whole truth about your management of my
+fortune," she answered steadily. "He told how you had lost your own in
+speculation and had taken everything of mine upon which you could lay
+hands--all my income and much more, so long as you were still my
+guardian--you and Lamberto Squarci, helping each other. And I
+understand now why you would not give me that money the other day. You
+had not got it to give me. My aunt must have borrowed it. And Bosio told
+Don Teodoro, that unless he was married to me, you meant to kill me,
+because I had signed a will leaving you everything. There was nothing
+that Bosio did not tell, and Don Teodoro repeated every word of it to
+me. I thought him mad. But now I know that he was not. I have been saved
+by a miracle, but you shall not try to murder me again--so I am going
+away."
+
+Macomer had listened to the end, his face working horribly and his hands
+grasping the head of the couch. When Veronica paused, his head fell
+forward as he stood. Even Matilde could not speak, for a moment. The
+revelation that Bosio had told all before he died, and that Veronica
+knew it, fell upon her like a blow, with stunning force. The first words
+came from Gregorio.
+
+"Bosio!" he exclaimed in a loud voice. "The devil take his soul!"
+
+"God will have mercy upon the soul that was lost through your deeds,"
+said the young girl, solemnly. "Amongst you, you drove him to
+madness--it was not his fault. But for his soul you shall answer, as
+well as for your deeds--and that is much to answer for, to Heaven and to
+me. You neither of you have the strength to deny one word of what Bosio
+said--"
+
+"He was mad!" Matilde broke in. "You are mad, too--"
+
+"Oh no!" interrupted Veronica, with contempt. "You cannot fasten that
+upon me. I am not mad at all, and I will show you what it is to be sane,
+for I know that every word of what Bosio told Don Teodoro was true. I
+was foolish not to believe it at once--it almost cost my life to believe
+you better than you are."
+
+"He was quite insane," muttered Gregorio, in almost imbecile repetition
+of what his wife had said.
+
+Matilde made another great effort to impose her remaining strength upon
+the young girl.
+
+"Whether you are mad or not, you shall not stand there accusing me of
+monstrous crimes!" she cried, moving a step towards Veronica, and
+raising her hand with a menacing gesture.
+
+"Shall not?" repeated Veronica, proudly, and instead of retreating she
+advanced calmly to meet her aunt.
+
+"Would you not rather that I accused you here, and proved you guilty and
+let you go free, than that I should do as much in a court of justice?
+You know what the end of that would be--penal servitude for you
+both--and unless--" she paused, for she was growing hot and she wished
+to speak with coolness.
+
+"Unless?" Matilde uttered the one word scornfully, still facing her.
+
+"Unless you will confess the truth, here, before I leave the house, I
+will do what I can to have you both convicted," said Veronica. "That is
+your only chance. That or the galleys. Choose. You are thieves and
+murderers. Choose."
+
+She spoke like a man to those who would have murdered her and had
+failed, but who had robbed her with impunity for years. Gregorio
+Macomer's face was all distorted. All at once his maniac laugh broke
+out. But it stopped suddenly and unexpectedly, and it changed to another
+sort of laughter--low and not unpleasant to hear, but a little vacant.
+Matilde turned her head slowly and gazed at him. He was bending now and
+resting his elbows on the head of the couch, instead of his hands, and
+he held his hands themselves opposite to each other, crooking first one
+finger and then another, and making one finger bow to the other, as
+children sometimes do, and laughing vacantly to himself, with a queer
+little chuckle of enjoyment. Veronica stared. Matilde held her breath.
+Still he laughed softly.
+
+"Marionettes," he said, looking up at his wife, his little eyes wide
+open. "Do you see the marionettes? This is Pulcinella. This is his wife.
+Do you see how they quarrel? Is it not pretty? I always like to see the
+marionettes in the streets. Ha! ha! ha! see them!"
+
+And he played with his fingers and made them bob and bow, like little
+dolls.
+
+"He is ill," said Matilde, in a low, uneasy voice. "Pay no attention to
+him."
+
+He had always intended to save himself by pretending to go mad, but even
+Matilde was amazed at his power of acting.
+
+"He will recover," answered Veronica, coldly. "You can still understand
+me, at all events, even if he cannot. You have your choice. If you tell
+me the truth, I will not allow any inquiry. I will take over my fortune,
+if you have left me any, and for the sake of my father's name, I will
+not bring you to justice, even if you have ruined me. But I warn
+you--and it is the last time, for I am going--if you still try to deny
+what I know to be the truth, the prosecution shall begin to-morrow. You
+will not be able to murder me, for I shall be protected, and with all
+your abominable courage you are not brave enough to try and kill me
+here, before I leave this room. No--you are not. I am not afraid of you.
+But you have reason to be afraid. You will be convicted. Nothing can
+save you. Though people do not know me as they knew my father,--though I
+am only a girl and came to you, straight from the convent,--I know that
+I have power, and I shall use it. I am not poor Elettra, whom you
+intended to accuse. I am the Princess of Acireale; I have been your
+ward; you and your husband have robbed me, and you have tried to murder
+me. Though I am only a girl, justice will move more quickly for me than
+it would for you, even if you could call it to help you. Now choose, and
+waste no time."
+
+While she had been speaking, Macomer had stared at her with an
+expression of genuine childish amusement.
+
+"Poor Pulcinella!" he exclaimed softly. "How your wife can talk, when
+she is angry! Poor fellow!"
+
+The tone was so natural that Matilde again looked at him uneasily, and
+moved nearer to him, not answering Veronica.
+
+"Come, Gregorio," she said, "you are ill. Come to your room--you must
+not stay here."
+
+"I am sorry you do not like the marionettes," he said gravely. "They
+always amuse me. Stay a little longer."
+
+Veronica supposed that he was ill from the effects of the poisoning and
+that he was in some sort of delirium. But she did not pity him, and was
+relentless. She moved nearer to her aunt.
+
+"Answer me!" she said sternly. "This is the last time. If you deny the
+truth now, I will go to the chief of police at once."
+
+"Oh! poor old Pulcinella!" cried Macomer, laughing gently. "How she
+gives it to him!"
+
+Matilde was almost distracted.
+
+"You will be arrested at once," said Veronica, pitilessly.
+
+"Never mind, Pulcinella!" exclaimed Macomer. "Courage, my friend! You
+know you always get away from the policeman! Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+Matilde saw Veronica moving to go to the door. She straightened herself
+and pointed to her husband.
+
+"Yes," she said. "He did it--and he is mad."
+
+Her voice was firm and clear, for the die was cast. When she had spoken,
+she turned from them both towards the fireplace, and hid her face in her
+hands. If he could act his madness out, she, at least, would still be
+free and alive. Veronica stood still a moment longer, looking back.
+
+"That is the other piece," said Macomer, thoughtfully. "Pulcinella does
+not go mad in this one. The man has forgotten the parts. It is a
+pity--it was so amusing."
+
+There was silence for a moment. Matilde did not look round.
+
+"I think he will recover," said Veronica. "But I am glad you have told
+the truth. I promise that you shall be safe."
+
+In a moment she was gone.
+
+"Just so," said Macomer, speaking to himself. "He forgot the words of
+the piece, and so he made it end rather abruptly. Let us go home,
+Matilde, since it is over."
+
+"It is of no use to go on acting insanity before me," answered Matilde,
+with a bitter sigh, as she raised her face from her hands and moved
+away from the fireplace, not looking at him.
+
+"That is the reason why Pulcinella's wife disappeared so suddenly," he
+replied. "You see, there are two pieces which the marionettes act. In
+the one which begins with the quarrel--"
+
+"I tell you it is of no use to do that!" cried Matilde, angrily, and
+beginning to walk up and down the room, still keeping her eyes from the
+face she hated.
+
+"How nervous you are!" he exclaimed, with irritation. "I was only trying
+to explain--"
+
+"Oh, I know! I know! Keep this acting for the doctors! You will drive me
+really mad!"
+
+"The doctors?" He stared at her and smiled childishly. "Oh no!" he
+exclaimed. "The doctor is in the other piece--I was going to explain--"
+
+She turned with a fierce exclamation upon him and grasped his arm,
+shaking him savagely, as though to rouse him. To her horror, he burst
+into tears.
+
+"You hurt!" he whined. "You hurt me! Oh, poor little Gregorio!"
+
+He was really mad, and there was no more acting for him, as the tears
+streamed down his vacant face, which no longer twitched at all.
+
+His mind had broken down under Veronica's relentless accusation and
+threat of vengeance.
+
+The miserable woman's strength was all but gone, when she sat down,
+alone in the room with her mad husband, and once more buried her face in
+her hands.
+
+He whined and cried a little while to himself, and rubbed his arm where
+she had taken hold so roughly; but presently his tears dried again, and
+he leaned over the end of the couch on his elbow, and above her bowed,
+veiled head he crooked his fingers at each other, and made his hands nod
+and bob to each other, like little dolls, laughing gently, with a
+chuckle now and then, at the funny things he heard Pulcinella saying to
+his wife.
+
+That was the end of the attempt to murder Veronica Serra, and that was
+the end of the old life at the Palazzo Macomer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+Veronica was not only merciful but generous to Matilde, when she finally
+set her own fortune in order. Through Pietro Ghisleri she found an
+honest and discreet man of business, whose fortune and good name placed
+him above suspicion, and who arranged matters to her satisfaction, and
+as far to her advantage as was possible under the circumstances.
+
+Bosio had possessed a competency, which, as he died intestate, became
+the inheritance of his brother. But the latter, owing to the time
+required for the legal formalities, had not been able to get possession
+of the money before he became insane, and was placed in an asylum at
+Aversa, where he was probably to remain until he died. Bosio's little
+fortune remained intact, and the use of it reverted to Matilde Macomer.
+Veronica paid Gregorio's expenses at the asylum.
+
+As for the Macomer property, she found herself obliged to raise money to
+meet the mortgages which were due on the first of January after the
+final catastrophe, since Macomer had used up her income and left her
+momentarily in difficulties. The banker who was managing matters for
+her advanced the sums necessary out of his private fortune, and the
+estate at Caserta, together with the Palazzo Macomer in Naples, became
+the property of Veronica Serra. By the estimates made they were worth
+more than the money raised upon them by mortgage, and by the deeds of
+sale the balance was to be paid to Matilde. This, with Bosio's property,
+was enough to make her independent, and, for the time being, Veronica
+allowed her to live in the house.
+
+Lamberto Squarci was called in constantly, as having been Macomer's
+agent. By agreement, Veronica caused the accounts of the estate to be
+balanced from Macomer's books, so that everything appeared to be in
+order, and she formally took over her fortune from Matilde and Cardinal
+Campodonico, who knew nothing of the true state of affairs. Since
+Veronica knew everything and was satisfied, it was not necessary that he
+should be informed of what had taken place, and this secrecy was the
+keeping of Veronica's promise that Matilde should be safe.
+
+When all was settled upon a permanent basis, Veronica found herself
+still exceedingly rich. Matilde was provided for. Gregorio was in the
+insane asylum. The cardinal and the world at large were in total
+ignorance of all the truth except the facts which could not be
+concealed; namely, that Bosio Macomer had killed himself and that his
+brother was mad. The latter fact explained the former; for everybody
+said that there was insanity in the family, and that Bosio had been mad,
+too.
+
+Veronica's first, chiefest, and most immediate difficulty lay in finding
+a reason which she could give Bianca and the cardinal for refusing to
+live any longer with her aunt. She cared very little what society might
+say, for she was at once too inexperienced to attach the true measure of
+importance to its opinion, or to understand that the unhappy Princess
+Corleone was not in a position to socially take the place of a chaperon;
+and, at the same time, she was too great a personage to be easily
+intimidated by the fear of gossip. Bianca was her friend, and to her she
+went unhesitatingly, feeling quite sure that she was doing right.
+
+There were people, however, who thought differently; first among whom
+were the cardinal and the Duchessa della Spina, Gianluca's mother. The
+cardinal did not return from Rome until after the first of January, but
+the duchessa came to see Veronica at Bianca's villa within a few days
+after Veronica had left her aunt.
+
+The good lady implored her to return to the countess, in the name of
+society or of religion, but Veronica was not quite sure which she
+invoked, for her language was not very coherent. She was not more than
+five-and-forty years of age, but she seemed to be already an old woman.
+Her hair was grey, she had lost many teeth, and she dressed, as
+Veronica wickedly said to Bianca, like the devil's grandmother. She
+spoke affectionately, as well as reprovingly, however, having known both
+Veronica's parents, and as having been a third cousin of her mother; and
+she begged the young girl to come and stay as long as she pleased at the
+Della Spina palace, as her guest.
+
+Veronica thanked her, but declined to change her quarters. It was clear
+that the Duchessa wished her to marry Gianluca, and had by no means
+given up all hopes of the match. It was all the more clear, because she
+never mentioned him, though Veronica knew that he was no better; and
+Veronica herself, though sorry for him, asked no questions, lest any
+inquiry should be taken for a sign of an inclination which she did not
+feel. The Duchessa smiled reprovingly and shook her head when she went
+away. It would have been quite impossible for her to explain to Veronica
+why she should not remain longer than necessary under Bianca's roof.
+And, indeed, the matter might not have been easy to explain. Veronica
+was glad when she was gone.
+
+The cardinal was not so easy to deal with. He was a man of singular
+intensity of opinion, so to speak, when he held any fixed opinion at
+all, and he was displeased when he learned that Veronica was with his
+niece. On the other hand, the fact that Bianca was his brother's
+daughter gave Veronica a weapon against him. Why should she not spend a
+month or two with the niece of her former guardian, her old friend, the
+companion of her convent school days in Rome? Would his Eminence tell
+her why not? His Eminence replied by saying that he had never approved
+of Bianca's marriage; that Prince Corleone was, in his opinion, as great
+a good-for-nothing as ever had appeared in Neapolitan society, and was
+at present known to be leading a dissipated life in Paris and London.
+Veronica answered that all these things were to the discredit of
+Corleone, but that Bianca was to be pitied, since she had been so
+unlucky as to marry a scoundrel, and that, on the whole, it was better
+that Corleone should stay away from her, if he could not behave decently
+at home. The cardinal retorted that no young girl should stay two months
+in the house of any woman who was practically separated from her
+husband, for whatever reason; and he said that this was an accepted
+tradition in society, and that society was not to be despised. He was
+not prepared for the answer he received.
+
+"I am Veronica Serra," said the young girl, with a smile. "Society is
+society. When we need each other, we will try and agree."
+
+This was somewhat enigmatic, to say the least of it, and the cardinal
+was not quite sure whether he understood it. He should be very sorry, he
+said, to think that his old friend's daughter meant to cut herself off
+from the world in which she had so important a part to play. Of course,
+he had no longer any actual authority by which to direct her actions.
+She was of age, and if she chose to live alone, without so much as an
+elderly companion, no one could hinder her. To this Veronica promptly
+answered that she had come to Bianca's house in order not to be alone.
+
+"And why," inquired the cardinal, watching her face keenly, "have you
+determined that you will no longer live with your aunt Macomer, who is
+your only near relative and your natural companion?"
+
+This was the real question, and Veronica had hoped that he would not ask
+it; but being a good diplomatist, and knowing how hard it would be to
+answer, the wise prelate had kept it back as a hammer with which to
+drive the wedges he had previously inserted one by one.
+
+"I had understood that you were always the best of friends," he added,
+while she was silent for a moment.
+
+"We have not agreed so well lately," said Veronica. "Besides, you could
+hardly expect me to be happy in a house where such horrible things have
+lately happened."
+
+"You could live somewhere else, and have your aunt with you," suggested
+the cardinal.
+
+"You do not understand!" Veronica smiled. "That would be quite
+impossible. She has always been accustomed to being mistress in the
+house, and if she lived with me, she would be my guest. She would not
+like to accept that position. Just imagine! I would not even let her
+order dinner."
+
+"You might let her do that, by way of a compromise, my child."
+
+"Oh--but she does it abominably! That is one reason for not living with
+her!"
+
+The cardinal could not help laughing at Veronica's statement of the
+case.
+
+"I see," he said. "She poisoned you!" And he laughed again.
+
+"Yes," answered Veronica. "That was exactly it. She poisoned us all."
+
+She smiled to herself at the terrible truth of the words which so much
+amused the cardinal; but she continued to talk in the same strain,
+giving him the infinity of small reasons, under which a clever woman
+will hide her chief one, confusing a man's impression of the whole by
+her superior handling of its parts, exaggerating the one detail and
+belittling the next, until all proportion and true perspective are lost,
+and the man leaves her with the sensation of having been delicately
+taken to pieces, and put together again with his face turned backwards,
+over his shoulders.
+
+When, on leaving him, Veronica deposited the traditional and perfunctory
+kiss upon his sapphire ring, Cardinal Campodonico felt that his late
+ward had been a match for him at all points, and that after all it was
+not such a great thing to be a man, if one could not do better than he
+had done. If he consoled himself with the fact that Eve had out-argued
+Adam, he was mentally confronted by the reflexion that Adam had been a
+layman, and had not been called upon to sustain the dignity of a
+cardinal and an archbishop. He determined, however, that he would renew
+the attempt before long. If Veronica would not leave Bianca's villa, and
+live in some other way, he would oblige his niece to cut the situation
+short and go away for a journey.
+
+But Veronica had no intention of quartering herself upon her friend for
+any great length of time; and perhaps, under the circumstances, she did
+the best thing she could in going directly to her. Bianca was discreet,
+and lived very quietly, receiving few people and going very little into
+the world. The villa itself was at some distance from the centre of
+Neapolitan life, so that the average idle man or woman thought twice
+before calling, without a distinct object, and merely for a cup of tea
+and a cup-of-tea's worth of gossip. There was not that constant coming
+and going of visitors in every degree of intimacy which might have been
+expected in the house of a woman of Bianca Corleone's beauty and
+position. The world is easily tired of unhappy people, and men soon
+weary of worshipping a goddess who never smiles upon them. As for the
+fact that Pietro Ghisleri was frequently at the villa, society refrained
+from throwing stones, in consideration of the extreme brittleness of its
+own glass dwelling. Ghisleri was disliked in Naples, because he was a
+Tuscan; but Bianca, as a Roman, might have been more popular.
+
+It need hardly be said that she preferred the isolation she enjoyed to a
+gayer existence. To Veronica it seemed as though she herself had never
+before known what liberty was. The whole mode of life was different from
+anything to which she had been accustomed. The villa was near the
+country, and its own grounds were not small. Bianca was passionately
+fond of dogs and horses, for her father bred horses on his lands in the
+Roman Campagna, and she had been accustomed to animals from her
+childhood. She taught Veronica to ride, and the fearless young girl was
+a good pupil. They rode out together early in the morning, westward,
+towards Baiae, and up to the king's preserves, and often through some
+lands of Veronica's which lay in the rich Falernian district within an
+easy distance. A groom followed them. Ghisleri very rarely joined the
+party.
+
+Bianca Corleone had another accomplishment which was very unusual at
+that time, and is still uncommon, among Italian women. She could fence,
+and was fond of the exercise. She had been a delicate child, and it had
+long been feared that her lungs were weak, so that she had been
+encouraged from her earliest youth in everything which could contribute
+towards increasing her strength. Her brother, Gianforte, had even as a
+boy been a good fencer. He was devotedly attached to his only sister,
+and as she had not gone to the convent school until she had been fifteen
+years old, they had been constantly together until then, he being only a
+couple of years older than she. One day she had taken up one of his
+foils, laughing at the idea, and had made him show her how to hold it;
+and he had forthwith amused her by teaching her to fence, on rainy days
+in Rome, when she could not ride. It had seemed to do her good, and her
+father had allowed her to have regular lessons, until she could handle a
+foil very fairly, for a girl. She herself liked it, but she rarely
+alluded to it, regarding it as a rather unfeminine amusement, and being,
+at the same time, a most womanly woman.
+
+But in her villa she had a large empty room, admirably adapted for
+fencing, and three times weekly a famous master came and gave her
+lessons. To her surprise Veronica had shown an irresistible desire to
+learn also, and had insisted upon being properly taught by the
+fencing-master. The young girl had soon shown that she had far more
+natural ability and aptitude for the skilled exercise than Bianca had
+possessed when she had first begun. Her lean young figure, long arms,
+and unusual quickness gave her every advantage with a foil, and her
+extraordinary tenacity and determination to do well at it helped her to
+progress rapidly. Before she had practised two months, though by no
+means yet as good as Bianca, she had been able to sustain a long bout
+with her very creditably indeed.
+
+Bianca had a very different temperament and organization. She was never
+really strong, though exercise had developed her strength to the utmost.
+She did many things well, but did nothing with that sort of conviction,
+so to say, which proceeds from conscious inward vigour. When she was not
+actually riding or fencing, or doing something of the sort, there was a
+languor in her movements and her manner which told that she had no great
+vital force upon which to draw. Those who already know something of her
+story, will remember that her life was short as well as sad.
+
+She watched Veronica with interest, noting how suddenly the girl changed
+and developed in her new liberty. She had never suspected her of many
+tastes and inclinations which now showed themselves for the first time.
+She found that a certain simplicity of view and judgment which she had
+set down to girlish innocence, was, in reality, the natural bent of
+Veronica's character. There was a fearless directness in the girl's
+ways, which delighted Bianca Corleone.
+
+The two young women were alone one afternoon, not long after Veronica
+had come, when Taquisara and Gianluca appeared together. It was a part
+of Bianca's way of showing her indifference to the world, to receive any
+one who came, whenever she was at home. No one should ever be able to
+say that he or she had not been admitted when Bianca was in the villa.
+
+At the door of the drawing-room, Veronica could see that Gianluca tried
+to make his friend enter before him, and that Taquisara pushed him
+forward, with a little friendly laugh of encouragement. It happened that
+she was seated just opposite to the door. Gianluca came on, and went
+directly towards Bianca. He was thinner and more transparent than ever.
+Veronica could almost fancy that she could see the light through his
+face. She thought he was slightly lame; or, at least, that he walked
+with a little difficulty.
+
+Bianca looked up kindly, as she gave him her hand, for she had always
+liked him. Taquisara came to her a moment later, and both men turned to
+Veronica. Gianluca evidently did not wish to sit down by Veronica,
+whereas Taquisara, in order to oblige him to do so, took a chair on the
+other side of Bianca, and spoke to her at once. Gianluca seated himself
+upon a chair half-way between Bianca and Veronica.
+
+Possibly Bianca resented the Sicilian's cool way of forcing her to talk
+with him, as though he knew that she should prefer to do so. For many
+reasons she was unduly sensitive to the slightest appearance of anything
+even faintly resembling a liberty. She answered what he said, and made a
+remark in her turn; but, without waiting for his reply, she looked round
+at Gianluca and spoke to him, interrupting something which he was trying
+to say to Veronica. In almost any situation, such a proceeding would
+have been tactless; but Bianca had seen the result of the meeting
+between Gianluca and Veronica on the former occasion, and she guessed
+rightly that if they were forced into the necessity of exchanging
+commonplaces, there would be an even more complete failure now than
+there had been before. Taquisara had thrust him upon Veronica in an
+excess of friendly zeal for his interests. He kept his place for a few
+moments, and then, seeing Bianca's intention, rose and went to
+Veronica's other side. Gianluca immediately drew his chair nearer to
+Bianca.
+
+Veronica did not remember afterwards how the Sicilian opened the
+conversation, nor what she herself at first said. In spite of the strong
+impression he had produced upon her when they had met in the garden
+three or four weeks earlier, she now looked away from him, watching the
+other two as they talked.
+
+She saw at a glance that Gianluca's manner with Bianca was not at all
+what it was with herself. He looked ill and worn; but his face had
+brightened, his tone was light and cheerful, and he was evidently saying
+amusing things, for Bianca laughed audibly, which was rare with her,
+even when she and Veronica were alone together. He was at his ease;
+instead of seeming awkward he had an especial grace, beyond that of
+ordinary men; instead of being visibly disturbed by the sound of his own
+voice, he appeared to be almost as sure of himself and of what he was
+going to say as Taquisara.
+
+Veronica wondered why she had never noticed him before, except when he
+was talking with her. He was ill and weak, but he was undeniably a
+noticeable man. She remembered all that his friend had said of him, and
+her own disappointment after her last meeting with him, and she all at
+once realized that she had only seen the man at his worst. She watched
+him narrowly. He must have felt her eyes upon him, for he turned without
+apparent reason, and met them. Instantly the blood mounted to the roots
+of his hair, and he looked away again, and stumbled and hesitated in the
+answer he gave to what Bianca had last said.
+
+But Veronica remembered very distinctly his speeches to her, and she
+recalled in contrast the words Bosio had spoken to her just before he
+died. Then she turned her head, and listened to Taquisara.
+
+"What did you say?" she asked.
+
+"I have not the slightest idea," replied the Sicilian, with a little
+laugh. "I suppose it must have been a compliment, and I did not expect
+any answer, of course."
+
+"I should have thanked you, if I had heard it," answered Veronica,
+smiling rather absently, for she was still thinking of Gianluca.
+
+"A man never expects thanks from a woman," said Taquisara. "Shall you
+stay long with the Princess Corleone?"
+
+"I do not know. I have not decided. Why do you ask?"
+
+"Was I indiscreet?"
+
+"No. Of course not. I thought you might have some reason for asking."
+
+"A general reason, perhaps," answered Taquisara. "You have been in
+trouble. I suppose that you have been unhappy, and that you will change
+your life in some way--so I asked what you were going to do."
+
+"As for staying here or not, I have not yet decided. But what I mean to
+do would not interest you at all. Before very long, I shall probably go
+to Muro."
+
+"To Muro! I have often wished to see the place where they murdered Queen
+Joanna."
+
+"I have never been there myself, though it belongs to me," answered
+Veronica. "Her ghost has it all to itself now. They say that she sits
+at the head of the grand staircase, once a year, at midnight, and
+shrieks. If you wish to see Muro, you had better go before I am there,"
+she added, with a smile. "I shall be there alone, and I could not
+possibly receive you, as I could not even offer you a cup of tea, you
+know."
+
+"What an absurd institution society is," observed Taquisara, with
+contempt. "The priest says, 'Ego conjungo vos'; and you are licensed to
+snap your fingers at everything that has bound you until that moment, as
+though the law of your marriage were your divorce from law."
+
+"That sounds clever," said Veronica; "but I do not believe it is."
+
+He laughed, indifferently; and after a moment or two, she looked at him,
+and smiled.
+
+"I did not mean to be so rude," she said.
+
+So they talked in small, objectless remarks, and questions, and answers,
+neither witty nor quite witless; but Veronica did not refer to Gianluca,
+and Taquisara knew that for the present he had better let matters alone.
+Presently Bianca spoke across to Veronica, and the conversation became
+general. In the course of it, Gianluca spoke to Veronica, and she
+answered him, and then asked him a question. She was surprised to find
+that, so long as the others were joining in whatever was said, he seemed
+quite at his ease, though his colour came and went frequently. On the
+whole, she had a much better impression of him this time than she had
+retained after the former meeting, when he had seemed so utterly
+helpless and shy in her presence. But when both men rose to go away she
+could not help comparing them again.
+
+Even then, it seemed to her that the comparison was less unfavourable to
+Gianluca than she had expected that it must be. He was tall and
+well-proportioned, and in spite of the slight difficulty in walking,
+which she had to-day noticed for the first time, he was graceful and of
+easy carriage. His extreme languor in moving was, perhaps, what
+displeased her the most. When he had entered the room, she had been
+annoyed at his coming; but now she was rather sorry, than otherwise,
+that he was going away so soon. Possibly, as she had expected nothing,
+she was the more easily satisfied. Taquisara, too, had disappointed her.
+He had talked very much like any one else, and not at all as he had
+talked at that first meeting. Veronica felt that she was indifferent.
+Bosio's untimely death had terribly changed the face of the world for
+her, she thought.
+
+A cold listlessness, unfamiliar to her nature, came over her when the
+two men were gone. Before long Ghisleri appeared, and there was tea and
+more conversation. He was thought to be an agreeable man, and people
+said that he talked well. Veronica wondered vaguely what Bianca saw in
+him that made her like him so much. But it struck her that the question
+had not presented itself to her before that day, and that, on the whole,
+she liked her friend's friend very well.
+
+Presently she left them to themselves in the drawing-room and went to
+her own room to write a long letter to Don Teodoro, who was now in Muro,
+and actively engaged in carrying out her wishes for improving the
+condition of the poor there. As she wrote, her interest in life revived,
+after having been unaccountably suspended for half an hour, and she felt
+again all her enthusiasm for the chief object she now had in view.
+
+Soon after this, too, she began to examine the state of the big farms
+through which she often rode with Bianca, asking questions of the people
+and entering into conversation with the local under-steward when she
+chanced to meet him. As was to be expected, the news that the young
+princess now took an active interest in the administration of her
+estates soon went abroad amongst the peasants. They soon knew her by
+sight and were only too ready to come and stand at her stirrup and pour
+out the tale of their woes, since she was condescending enough to
+listen. Sometimes, if she found a case of anything like oppression, she
+interfered. Sometimes, and this was what more often happened, she helped
+some poor man with money--in order that he might be able to pay his rent
+to herself. Bianca laughed once at a charity of this kind, but Veronica
+held her own.
+
+"The rule is for everybody," she said. "They must pay their rents, or
+go. If I choose to help those who have had trouble, that is my affair,
+and not the business of the under-steward with whom they have to do.
+Besides, if the rent is remitted this year, they will expect the same
+thing in the future, whereas they know that a little money is a passing
+charity on which they cannot count with certainty. The less publicity
+there is about charity, the more of self-respect remains to those who
+profit by it."
+
+Bianca glanced sideways at Veronica's face as the latter finished
+speaking, and she felt that the girl was not cast in the same mould as
+herself.
+
+"I wonder whether you will ever marry," she said thoughtfully, after a
+short pause.
+
+"Why? What has that to do with it?" asked Veronica.
+
+"Your husband will find that it has a great deal to do with it, my
+dear," Bianca answered, with a smile, and speculating upon the possible
+fate of the Princess of Acireale's future husband.
+
+"Oh,--of course, I should not let him interfere in anything of this
+kind," said Veronica, gravely. "He should not come between me and my
+people."
+
+She sat very straight on her horse, and the girl's small head and
+aquiline features had a dominating expression. A struggling man, with
+such a look, is a man who means to win, and generally does, whatever
+the nature of the race may be.
+
+"But I shall never marry," Veronica added presently, and her face
+softened as she thought of the dead betrothed. "There is plenty to do in
+the world, without marrying, if one will only do it."
+
+"If you do not, there will be one free man more in the world," answered
+Bianca.
+
+Veronica laughed a little.
+
+"I daresay I should have my own way," she said.
+
+The longer Veronica stayed with her, the more thoroughly was Bianca
+convinced of this, and she wondered why it should have taken her so long
+to discover that the quiet, sallow-faced, gentle-mannered little girl,
+whom she had first known at the convent school, was developing a
+character which might some day astonish every one who should attempt to
+oppose her. It had been a growth of strength, with an accentuation of
+wilfulness, and it had not been at all apparent at first.
+
+So they lived quietly together, in spite of the Cardinal Campodonico's
+objections and arguments, and, little by little, Veronica became quite
+used to her absolute independence of plan and action, and the idea of
+taking an elderly gentlewoman for a companion grew more and more
+distasteful to her.
+
+Meanwhile her aunt was living all alone at the Palazzo Macomer. Many
+communications passed between the two, about matters of business, during
+the earlier weeks after their final separation, but they did not meet.
+As neither of them ever went into the world, it was extremely improbable
+that they should meet at all, except by agreement.
+
+Gianluca came to the villa again, ten days after the visit last spoken
+of. And after that he came often, at irregular intervals, generally once
+or twice a week. The first disappointing impression, which Veronica had
+retained so long, gradually wore away, and she liked him very much
+better than she had ever thought possible. Bianca never left the two
+alone together. She felt more than ever responsible for Veronica, now,
+and bound to observe the customs and traditions in which both had been
+brought up. She was wise enough to know, too, that after such an unlucky
+beginning, it would be better for Gianluca if a long time passed before
+he had another chance of pouring out his heart to the young girl. Things
+might go by contraries, she thought. Contempt might turn to familiarity,
+familiarity to friendship, and friendship to love. The first change had
+already taken place, and the others might come in time.
+
+Before the spring came, Veronica knew that Taquisara had not been guilty
+of exaggeration in describing his friend's character. Gianluca was all
+that his friend had painted him, and perhaps more. Unfortunately, he
+was not at all the kind of man whom Veronica would ever be inclined to
+fancy for a husband. It was easy for her to respect him, as she came to
+know him better; it would have been hard not to like him, but it seemed
+impossible to her that she should ever love him.
+
+Taquisara came very rarely--not more than three or four times in the
+course of the winter. He came alone, and did not stay long. Veronica saw
+that he avoided her on those few occasions, and preferred to talk with
+Bianca, though she was sometimes aware that he was looking at her
+earnestly, when her eyes were half turned from him.
+
+Gianluca seemed to grow a little stronger towards the spring. At least,
+he was less transparently thin; but the difficulty he had in walking was
+more apparent than before.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+As Gianluca's spirits revived, and he began to take courage again and
+find new hope that Veronica might marry him after all, her position as a
+permanent guest in Bianca's house became a subject of especial
+displeasure to the Della Spina family. They wished to renew their
+proposals for a marriage, and they found themselves stopped by the fact
+that Veronica was no longer under the charge of any relative to whom
+they could have communicated their offer.
+
+No one knew exactly what had happened before Christmas at the Palazzo
+Macomer excepting the persons concerned; but there is inevitably a
+certain amount of publicity about all business transactions connected
+with real estate, and somehow a story had filtered from the financial to
+the social world, which more or less explained Veronica's conduct. It
+was said that Gregorio, whom most people had detested, had mismanaged
+her fortune, though nothing was hinted about any great fraud; and people
+added that when the day of reckoning had come he had found himself
+ruined, and had lost his mind; Matilde, as guardian, had incurred the
+young princess's displeasure, but the latter had treated her generously,
+allowing her to live in the palace, which was now undoubtedly Veronica's
+property. Some persons told a story of an attempt made by a servant to
+poison the Macomer household, but the majority laughed at the tale, and
+said that Gregorio had been too poor, or too stingy, to have his copper
+saucepans properly tinned, and that a grain of verdigris would poison
+half a regiment, as every Italian knows.
+
+However that might be, no one was responsible for Veronica, but Veronica
+herself, unless Cardinal Campodonico still had some authority over her,
+which seemed more than doubtful. The old Duca made him a formal visit,
+and a formal proposition. His Eminence smiled, looked grave, smiled
+again, and replied that in a long and varied experience of the world he
+could not remember to have met with just such a case; that so far as he
+could understand, the young Princess of Acireale was her own mistress,
+and would make her own choice, if she made any; but that she had been
+heard to say that she would never marry at all. This, however, the
+cardinal thought impossible.
+
+"Then," said the Duca della Spina, "you advise me to go directly to the
+young lady and ask her whether she will marry my son."
+
+"My friend," replied the cardinal, "this is a case in which I would
+rather not give advice. I have no doubt that whatever you do will be
+well done, and I wish you all possible success."
+
+The old Duca shuffled out of the cardinal's study, more puzzled than
+ever, and went home to tell his wife and Gianluca and Taquisara the
+result of the interview. Taquisara was in the confidence of the family,
+and spent much of his time with his friend.
+
+"I am at my wits' end," concluded the old nobleman, shaking his head,
+and looking sorrowfully at his son. "If you wish it, I will go to Donna
+Veronica myself. It would be--well--very informal, to say the least.
+Poor Gianluca! My poor boy! If you would only be satisfied to marry your
+cousin Vittoria, it would be a question of days! Of course--I
+understand--her complexion is an obstacle," he added reflectively. "It
+will probably improve, however."
+
+No one answered him, Taquisara broke the silence, after a pause.
+
+"You must either speak to the Princess Corleone," he said, "or Gianluca
+must speak to Donna Veronica for himself."
+
+Gianluca said nothing to him, but by a glance he reminded his friend of
+his former attempt. So they came to no conclusion, though it was clear
+that Veronica now liked Gianluca quite enough, in their opinion, to
+marry him at once. But he himself, remembering his discomfiture, knew
+that the time had not yet come, though he had hopes that it might not
+be far off. On that very day he went to Bianca's villa, and stayed an
+unreasonably long time, in the hope that Ghisleri might appear, for he
+found Bianca and Veronica alone. Pietro would have talked with Bianca,
+and he himself would have had a chance, perhaps, to judge of his actual
+position. He was no longer shy and awkward, now, when he was with the
+young girl. But Ghisleri did not come, and Gianluca went home,
+disappointed and disconsolate.
+
+"I suppose that if we were in Sicily," he said to Taquisara on the
+following morning, "you would propose to carry her off by force. You
+once advised me to do something of the sort."
+
+"That is a proceeding which needs the consent of the lady," answered the
+Sicilian. "The 'force' is employed against the relations. Now Donna
+Veronica has none to speak of so far as I can see. It is a case for
+persuasion."
+
+Gianluca sighed. Matters were at a deadlock, and Veronica had announced
+her intention of going to Muro alone, before long. Once established
+there, she might stay in the mountains until the following autumn,
+unapproachable in her maiden solitude, as she had told Taquisara.
+Gianluca might knock at her gate, there, but he would certainly not be
+admitted.
+
+"You despise me," he said to his friend. "You think me weak and
+helpless, and you fancy that if you were in my place you could do
+better. But I do not believe you could."
+
+"No," replied the other. "I do not believe so, either. And I do not at
+all despise you. You have only one chance--to make her love you. No man
+is to be despised because a woman does not love him. It is not his
+fault."
+
+"I feel as though it were," said Gianluca. "I am sure that if I could
+change, if I could make myself different in some way--but that is
+absurd, of course."
+
+"One cannot suddenly become some one else." For himself, without vanity,
+Taquisara was probably glad of the fact, but he was sincerely sorry for
+his friend. "You might write to her," he suggested.
+
+"Love-letters--to Donna Veronica?" Gianluca smiled incredulously. "You
+do not know her!"
+
+"I know her a little," replied Taquisara. "All women like to receive
+letters from men who love them, if they are well expressed and sincere."
+
+"How horribly practical you are sometimes!" exclaimed the younger man,
+unaccountably irritated at his friend's generalizations.
+
+Taquisara laughed and knocked the ashes from his long black cigar.
+
+"You came to me for advice, not for sentiment," he observed presently.
+"Perhaps I am a bad adviser, but that is the worst you can say of me. I
+daresay I do not understand women. I have known a few pretty well, but
+that is all. I am not a lady killer, and I certainly never wished to
+marry. You must not expect much of me--but what little there is to
+expect will be practical. Perhaps Ghisleri could advise you better than
+I. He is a queer fellow. If he ever cuts his throat, he will not die of
+it--his heart and his head will go on living separately, just as they do
+now."
+
+Gianluca smiled again, for the description of the man was keen and true,
+as men knew him.
+
+"No," he answered; "I shall not consult Ghisleri. You and I are
+different enough to understand each other. He and I are not, though he
+is a good friend of mine."
+
+"I should not say that you resemble Ghisleri in any way," observed
+Taquisara, bluntly.
+
+"You may not see it, but I feel it. It is not easy to explain. He and I
+feel about many things in the same way, but we look at ourselves
+differently."
+
+"That sounds like a woman's speech!" said Taquisara. "But you are always
+making fine distinctions which I cannot understand. What do you mean
+when you say that you look at yourselves differently? How do you look at
+yourselves?"
+
+"Do you never think about yourself, as though you were another person,
+and were judging yourself like a man you knew?"
+
+"No," said Taquisara, thoughtfully. "I never thought of doing that."
+
+"But what does self-examination mean, then?" asked Gianluca.
+
+"I have not the slightest idea. I am myself. I know myself. I know what
+I want and do not want. It seems to me that I know enough. What in the
+world should I examine? You would be much better if you could get rid of
+all that romance about conscience and self-examination and such trash. A
+man knows perfectly well whether he is faithful to the woman he loves or
+not, whether he is betraying his friend or standing by him--what else do
+you want? I believe that theology and philosophy and self-examination,
+and all that, were invented in early times for heathen people who did
+not know whether they were doing right or wrong, because they were just
+converted."
+
+At this extraordinary view of church history Gianluca laughed.
+
+"You may laugh," answered the Sicilian. "You will never make me believe
+that old Tancred sat up all night examining his conscience before he
+went to the Holy Land--any more than he fasted and prayed before he had
+his daughter's lover murdered."
+
+"No--perhaps not!" Gianluca laughed again.
+
+"He did what struck him as right and natural," said Taquisara, gravely.
+"Besides, he was sovereign prince in his own land, and it was not a
+murder at all, but an execution. For a princess, his daughter behaved
+outrageously. I should have done the same thing, in his place. He had
+the right and the power, and he used it. But that is not the point. As
+for Ghisleri, he would have cut the boy's head off in a rage, and then
+he would have spent a year on his knees in a monastery. You would have
+prayed yourself into a good humour, and the fellow would have got off."
+
+"Unless I had asked your advice," suggested Gianluca.
+
+"And if you had, you would not have acted upon it--any more than you
+will write to Donna Veronica now, though I tell you that all women like
+to receive love-letters. It is natural. A woman is not satisfied with
+being told once a week that she is loved. She likes to know it all the
+time--the oftener, the better. Two letters of one page are better than
+one of two pages. Twenty notes a day, of a line or two each, will make a
+woman perfectly happy--provided that you do not make a mistake and send
+one less on the day following. They like repetition, provided it is in
+the same pitch. If you have begun high, you must not let the strings
+slacken. Women are curious creatures. In religion, they can believe
+fifty times as much as any man. In love, they only believe while they
+see you and hear you. As soon as your back is turned--even if they have
+sent you away--they scream and cry out that you have abandoned them.
+Before you come, they want you. When you are there, you weary them.
+When you are gone, you have betrayed them. And they wonder that a man
+cannot bear that sort of thing forever! Do you call me practical for
+speaking in this way? Very well, then--I am practical. I tell you what I
+know."
+
+Gianluca was amused, but he thought over what Taquisara had advised him
+to do, and the more he thought about it, the more inclined he was to
+follow the advice. Not that he regarded the writing of letters to
+Veronica at all as a hopeful means of moving her; but he felt that he
+might write her much which he would not say. He loved her with the
+deepest sincerity, and with an almost morbid passion, and the idea of
+approaching her in any way was irresistible. He had not realized before
+now that he could at least try the experiment of writing. She knew that
+he loved her, and at the worst, she might tell him not to write again.
+He remembered his terrible awkwardness and hesitation when he had first
+told her of his love, and his humiliation afterwards, when he had
+reflected upon the poor figure he had made. There would be no
+humiliation, now. He was sure of that. He could rely upon his pen and
+his wits, though he could not trust to his wits with only his tongue to
+help them.
+
+The chief objection to this method of wooing was that, in his class, it
+was untraditional. And this had some weight with him, for he had been
+brought up rigidly in the practices and customs of an exclusive caste.
+On the other hand, he had never thought of plunging rashly into
+love-phrases, from the first. He wished to establish a correspondence
+with Veronica, and then by subtle tact and delicate degrees to acquire
+the right of speaking to her, by his letters, of what he felt, making no
+reference to them when he met her, until she should at last give some
+sign that she would listen favourably.
+
+The plan was wise and far sighted, but it had not been the result of
+wisdom nor of diplomatic instinct. He adopted it out of delicacy, and
+out of respect for the woman he loved, and in the hope of reaching her
+heart without ever jarring upon her sensibilities.
+
+By nature and talent, as well as by cultivation, Gianluca was admirably
+gifted for such a correspondence as he now attempted to begin. In other
+circumstances of fortune he might have become eminent as a man of
+letters. Without possessing any of that practical, masculine knowledge
+of women, which Taquisara so roughly expressed, Gianluca had a keen and
+sure understanding of the feminine mind. There is no contradiction in
+that, for the men who know something of women's hearts by instinct and
+experience are by no means always those who are in intellectual sympathy
+with them. Very young women are sometimes surprised when they discover
+this fact, but men generally know it of one another; and the man of whom
+other men are jealous is rarely the one who prides himself upon knowing
+and sympathizing with the feminine point of view on things in general,
+from literature to dress.
+
+Gianluca had talked with Veronica about all sorts of subjects, and she
+had often asked him questions which he had not been able to answer on
+the spur of the moment. It was easy for him, in his first letter, to
+hark back to one of those idle questions of hers, and to make his reply
+to it an excuse for a letter. Such a communication would need no
+acknowledgment beyond a spoken word of thanks, which she would bestow
+upon him the next time they met. It should contain nothing warmer than
+the assurance of his anxiety to be of service to her, in anything she
+undertook, and a protestation of respectful friendship at the end.
+
+He wrote that first letter over twice and read it carefully before he
+sent it. It referred to an historical question connected with the house
+of Anjou, from which her castle of Muro had come to the Serra by a
+marriage, several centuries ago, and by which marriage Veronica traced
+her descent on one side to the kings of France. The castle itself had
+been twice the scene of royal murders, and there were many strange
+traditions connected with it. Gianluca got the information he needed
+from the library downstairs, and he found ample material for a letter
+of some length.
+
+But it was not dry and uninteresting, a mere copy of notes taken from
+histories and chronicles. The man had an undeveloped literary talent, as
+has been said, and he instinctively found light and graceful expressions
+for hard facts. He was himself discovering that he had a gift for
+writing, and the pleasure of the discovery enhanced the delight of
+writing to the woman he loved. The man of letters who has first found
+out his own facility in the course of daily writing to a dearly loved
+woman alone knows the sort of pleasure that Gianluca enjoyed, when he
+found that it was his pen that helped him, and not he that was driving
+his pen.
+
+He sent what he had written, and determined that on the following day he
+would go to the villa again. To his surprise and joy, he received a note
+from Veronica in the morning, thanking him warmly for the pains he had
+taken, and asking another question. It came through the post; and with
+his insight into feminine ways, he guessed that she had not wished to
+send a messenger to him,--a servant, who would have at once told other
+servants of the correspondence.
+
+Veronica had been pleased by the letter. She was beginning to like him
+for himself, and to forget how very foolish he had seemed to be when he
+was declaring his passion for her. But his letter showed him all at
+once in an entirely new light, and was at once a pleasure and a
+surprise. She thought it natural to write him a few words of thanks.
+Indeed, it would have seemed rude not to do so.
+
+In the liberty she was enjoying in Bianca's house, she was rapidly
+forgetting that she was only a young girl, and that society would be
+shocked if it knew that she was exchanging letters with Gianluca della
+Spina. There is nothing which a girl learns so easily and all at once as
+independence of that social kind. What grey-haired man of the world has
+not at one time or another been amazed at the full-grown assurance of
+some bride of eighteen or nineteen summers? A month is enough--with
+proper advantages--to make a drawing-room queen and a society tyrant of
+a schoolgirl. And that sort of independence is not alone the result of
+marriage. In Veronica's case, a slowly developed strength had been
+suddenly set free to act, by an accidental emancipation from all
+semblance of restraint; and the emancipation was so complete that even
+in the widest interpretation of the law, no one could have now claimed a
+right to control or direct her actions.
+
+She was nearly twenty-two years of age; she had a great position in her
+own right, and she was immensely rich. It was not until long afterwards
+that she learned how many offers of marriage had been refused for her
+by her aunt and uncle. For the present, the fathers and mothers of
+marriageable sons were waiting until three or four months should have
+elapsed, for they generally guessed that there had been a catastrophe of
+some sort at the Palazzo Macomer after Bosio's death; and, moreover, as
+has been seen, it was impossible to ascertain the proper person to whom
+to address any such proposal.
+
+The consequence of it all was, that Veronica was absolutely her own
+mistress, and free to go and come, and to do what seemed right in her
+own eyes. As she had told the cardinal, when she and society should
+discover that they needed each other, they would try and agree. In case
+of a disagreement, it was probable that, of the two, society would yield
+to Veronica Serra. Meanwhile she would correspond with Gianluca, if she
+pleased. During the arrangement of her affairs, she had constantly
+written to men, about business, under the advice of the bankers to whom
+she had confided the whole matter. Gianluca was merely a few years
+younger, and happened to belong to her own class. That was all. Why
+should he and she not write to each other? Yet it was not long since the
+idea of meeting Gianluca at Bianca's house, by agreement, had seemed a
+dangerous adventure, about entering upon which she had really hesitated.
+To-day, for any reasonable cause, she would have walked through Naples
+with him in the face of the world, at the hour when every one was in the
+streets.
+
+He came to the villa in the afternoon, after receiving her note of
+thanks, and she was glad to see him, and spoke with pleasure of his
+letter, before Bianca, who seemed surprised, but said nothing at the
+time. He was wise enough not to stay too long, and he went away
+exceedingly elated by his first success.
+
+"What is the matter with him?" asked Veronica, of her friend, just after
+he had left them. "He seems so much better--but he is growing very lame.
+Did you notice how he walked to-day? He seems to drag his feet after
+him."
+
+"He must have hurt his foot," said Bianca, calmly. "By the by, what is
+this, about letters? Do you mean to say that he writes to you?"
+
+"Yes--and I write to him," answered Veronica, with perfect calm. "You
+see, as I have nobody to ask, I ask nobody. It is more simple."
+
+"But, my dear child--a young girl--"
+
+"Do not call me a child, and do not call me a young girl, Bianca," said
+Veronica. "I am neither, in the sense of being a thing to be kept under
+a glass case and fed on rose leaves. I am a woman, and as I do not think
+that I shall ever marry, I refuse to be chaperoned all the way to
+old-maidhood. I know that you feel responsible for me, in a sort of
+way, because you are married, and I am not. It is really absurd, dear. I
+am much better able to take care of myself than you are."
+
+"No doubt, in a way. You are more energetic. But as for writing to
+Gianluca--I hardly know--I wish you would not."
+
+"He writes very well," answered Veronica. "I will show you his letter.
+Besides, so far as your responsibility goes, it will not last much
+longer. I shall go to Muro next month."
+
+"Alone?"
+
+"Alone--yes. I always mean to live alone. Don Teodoro will come and dine
+with me every evening, and we will talk about the people, and what we
+are doing for them. I shall have horses to ride. If you will come, we
+will fence together. I shall miss the fencing dreadfully. Could you not
+come, Bianca dear?"
+
+"I believe that you will miss the fencing more than me, dear," answered
+Bianca, rather sadly.
+
+Veronica was more to her than she could ever be to Veronica, and she
+knew it.
+
+"Bianca!" exclaimed the young girl. "How can you say such things!
+Because I spoke of fencing first? You know that I did not mean it in
+that way! I want you for yourself--but it will be nice to have the foils
+in the morning, all the same. You see, I could not even have a
+fencing-master out there. It is so far! Do come."
+
+Bianca shook her head.
+
+"We will have glorious days together," continued Veronica. "We will do
+all sorts of things together. They do say that it rains a good deal in
+those mountains--well, when it rains, you can write to Signor Ghisleri,
+while I write to Don Gianluca."
+
+Her innocent laughter at the idea startled Bianca, and the beautiful
+face grew paler, until it was almost wan. Veronica thought she was like
+a passion flower, just then. A short silence followed.
+
+"Veronica," said Bianca, at last, "why do you not marry Gianluca, since
+you have grown to liking him so much?"
+
+"I like him for a friend," answered Veronica, quietly. "I do not want a
+husband. Some day, I will tell you my story, perhaps--some day, if you
+will come to Muro, dear. Think about it."
+
+She left the room rather abruptly, and Bianca did not refer to the
+subject again. She had the power, rare in either of two friends, of not
+asking questions. Confidence given for the asking, however readily, is
+but the little silver coin of friendship; the gold is confidence
+unasked.
+
+In the days that followed, Gianluca wrote to Veronica again and again,
+about all manner of subjects which had come up in their conversation;
+and Veronica's short notes of thanks grew longer, until she found that
+she, too, was beginning to write real letters, and looked forward to
+writing them, as well as to receiving his. And his came oftener, until
+she had one almost every day.
+
+But when he came, as he did, twice a week, to the villa, they rarely
+spoke of their correspondence. Somehow it had come to be a bond linking
+certain sides of their natures which they did not show to each other
+when they met and talked. They never could talk as freely as they wrote,
+even upon the most indifferent subjects, though Gianluca seemed
+perfectly at his ease in conversation. There was a sort of undefined
+restraint from time to time, together with the certainty that they would
+write what they really meant, within a day or two, and understand each
+other far better than by spoken words.
+
+In Gianluca's case such a condition of things was natural enough. He
+felt that she understood friendship when he meant love, and he was aware
+that he was progressing slowly but surely towards the freedom to say
+what was always in his heart, while his success must depend upon his
+wisdom and tact in not surprising her with a declaration of passion, in
+the midst of a discussion upon church history or modern systems of
+charity. Compared with what he had felt in their former relations, he
+was happy, now, beyond his utmost expectations; and, in the relative
+happiness he had found, he was willing to be patient, rather than to
+risk anything prematurely.
+
+It was more strange, perhaps, that Veronica should regard this growing
+intimacy as she did, for she had no under-thought of a future change to
+something else, as he had, and she was naturally simple in reasoning and
+direct in action. Yet she could not but be aware that there was a sort
+of duality in their friendship, and she never confused the ideas they
+exchanged when in the one state--that is to say, when writing--with
+those about which they talked when an actual meeting brought them into
+the other. The one state already was an intimacy; the other was hardly
+yet more than a pleasant acquaintance, with the memory of a disagreeable
+beginning. Such curiosities of human intercourse are more easily
+understood by those who have met with them in life than explained to
+those who have not. The facts were plain. When Veronica and Gianluca
+were together in Bianca's drawing-room, they said nothing which might
+not have been heard with indifference by all Naples. When they wrote to
+each other they spoke of themselves, of their real thoughts about things
+and people, of their belief, and, to some extent, of their feelings.
+
+Veronica did not perhaps acknowledge that, little by little, Gianluca's
+letters were beginning to fill the place of poor Bosio's conversation in
+former times. But that was what was taking place. She was more lonely in
+mind than in heart, and without making the slightest pretence to talent
+or unusual cultivation, she craved a mental companionship of some sort
+to take up the thread where it had been broken. She had found it
+unexpectedly in her new friend's letters, and she recognized it and
+clung to it, as to something almost necessary in her existence. When she
+was ready to go up to Muro, she knew that without those letters life in
+such a solitude would be well nigh unsupportable, whereas, being able to
+look forward to them, and to answering them, her hours of idleness were
+already a foretasted pleasure.
+
+She had not even told the cardinal that she was going, and she was going
+alone. In Naples this seemed so incredible that after she was gone,
+people spontaneously invented a companion for her and assured one
+another that she had sent for a distant and elderly old-maid cousin as a
+chaperon and protectress. Even the cardinal believed it, taking it
+almost for granted.
+
+On the afternoon of the day before her departure Gianluca came, walking
+with difficulty and excusing himself for bringing his stick with him
+into the drawing-room. He was very pale, and looked more ill than for a
+long time past. But he spoke calmly enough, though saying little more
+than was required, while Bianca and Veronica kept up the conversation.
+Veronica was in good spirits and was evidently looking forward to the
+journey with pleasure and curiosity.
+
+Then Ghisleri appeared, followed shortly by Taquisara, who had called
+very rarely during the winter. Veronica thought that he had grown very
+cold and silent. He slowly stirred a cup of tea which he did not drink,
+and he scarcely joined in the conversation at all. He looked
+occasionally at one or another of the party, and once or twice his eyes
+fixed themselves on Veronica's face. She could not understand why his
+presence chilled her, but she was aware that she spoke more coldly than
+usual to Gianluca.
+
+At the end of half an hour, the latter rose to go, glancing at Veronica
+as he did so. Taquisara, on pretence of setting down his tea-cup, rose
+also and managed to place himself in front of Bianca, and said something
+to which Ghisleri gave an answer, just as Veronica and Gianluca were
+standing close together.
+
+"May I go on writing to you?" asked Gianluca, in a low tone and quickly.
+
+Veronica looked up at him with a startled expression.
+
+"Oh please--please!" she answered anxiously. "As often as you can--I
+count on it! Of course!"
+
+Gianluca's thin, pale face brightened suddenly as he heard her vehement
+request and the anxiety in her tone.
+
+"Thank you," he said. "Good-bye."
+
+He shook hands with Bianca, nodded to the two men, and turned away
+towards the door. He had not reached it, walking a little less painfully
+in his excitement, when he was aware that he had left his stick leaning
+against the chair in which he had sat. He stopped and looked back to be
+sure that it was there, before returning to get it. Veronica was
+watching him, saw what he had done, picked up the stick and carried it
+swiftly to him before he could come for it.
+
+Taquisara had seen her movement and had tried to get the stick before
+she could, to take it to his friend. He had been too far out of reach,
+and she had been before him. But he followed her, and he saw that as she
+handed Gianluca his property, she looked up into his face and smiled
+very kindly. Gianluca thanked her, smiling too, and the impression any
+one would have had was that they thoroughly understood each other. He
+bowed again and went out. Veronica turned to come back to the tea-table
+and found herself facing Taquisara's fiery eyes. She was surprised, and
+looked into his face, very near to him, and waiting for him to stand
+aside.
+
+"You are playing with him," he said in a low and angry voice.
+
+The room was long, and Bianca and Ghisleri were at the other end of it.
+After he had spoken, Veronica stared at him a moment, in genuine
+amazement at his words and manner. Then her eyes gleamed, too, and the
+delicate nostrils quivered.
+
+"You are insolent," she said coldly, and turning a little to the right,
+she passed him.
+
+"No. I am his friend," he answered, scarcely above a whisper, as she
+went by.
+
+He came back, shook hands with Bianca, bowed coldly to Veronica, and
+left the room within two minutes after Gianluca.
+
+"What is the matter with Taquisara?" asked Ghisleri, carelessly. "He
+seems irritable."
+
+Bianca looked at Veronica.
+
+"Does he? I suppose he is anxious about Don Gianluca."
+
+Veronica was still pale when she spoke, but the tone was cold and
+indifferent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+Veronica had felt herself mortally insulted by Taquisara's manner, much
+more than by his words, though they had been offensive enough. Her
+impression of the man was completely changed, in a moment, and she hoped
+that she might never see him again, so long as she lived. It had been
+one thing to praise Gianluca to her, and to press his suit for him; it
+was quite another to lie in wait for her, as it were, at the end of a
+drawing-room and to reproach her brutally and angrily with wishing to
+break Gianluca's heart. As she thought of his eyes, and his face, and
+his low voice, she grew pale with anger herself, at the mere memory of
+his insolence.
+
+It did not strike her that there could be any truth in his accusation.
+Gianluca was old enough to take care of himself. Was Taquisara his
+nurse, his keeper, his doctor? Gianluca was not making love to her in
+his letters, nor was she, in hers, encouraging him to do so. She was
+angry at the thought that the Sicilian should know anything of their
+correspondence, as it seemed evident that he must. It was true that her
+own friend, Bianca, knew something about it. She could forgive
+Gianluca, if he had confided too much in Taquisara, but she could not
+forgive Taquisara for having been the recipient of the confidence, and
+she would neither forgive nor forget the way in which he had shown her
+how much he knew.
+
+For the first time in her life, Veronica longed to be a man, that she
+might not only resent the insult, but have satisfaction of the man who
+had insulted her. She felt that she was emphatically not playing with
+Gianluca, as Taquisara had expressed it. She had told him frankly,
+several months earlier, that she could not love him,--she had shaken her
+head and had said that she was sorry,--and neither he nor any one else
+had a right to suppose that she was now changing her mind. Since
+Gianluca was apparently willing to accept the position and to be her
+friend, it was nobody's affair but his and hers. She felt that she had
+been fully justified in what she had said to Taquisara. At the same time
+she was half conscious of being disappointed in the man, and of being
+wounded by the disappointment.
+
+She left Bianca's house early, and as she drove away to the railway
+station alone with Elettra, she felt that her life was only now really
+beginning. The months of independence she had enjoyed had prepared her
+for this final move. In the course of setting her affairs in order, she
+had been brought face to face with a side of the world which few women
+ever see or understand, and her character had hardened singularly to
+meet the difficulties she had found in her path. She probably
+overestimated the strength she had now acquired; for more than once, on
+the way to the station, she felt a momentary reaction of timidity and a
+longing to go back and stay a few days more with Bianca. She laughed
+bravely at herself for her weakness, and told herself that she was going
+to her own place, to be surrounded by her own people, that she was
+two-and-twenty years of age and had been through troubles during the
+past months which had proved her strength. Nevertheless, the fact
+remained that she was a very young, unmarried woman, that she was going
+to live alone, and that she was breaking through the whole hard shell of
+fossilized social tradition. Even Elettra, born a peasant of the
+mountains, thought her mistress's decision amazingly bold, though she
+approved of it in her heart, and had been ready to go to Muro with
+Veronica long ago.
+
+"What would your father, blessed soul, have said, Excellency?" she
+asked, when they were seated together in the train which was to take
+them to Eboli, beyond Salerno.
+
+"Shall I send for the Countess Macomer?" asked Veronica, with a smile.
+
+"Heaven preserve us from her!" exclaimed Elettra, and she crossed
+herself hastily, and then made the sign of the horns with her fingers,
+against the evil eye, and with her other hand touched a coral charm
+which she had in her pocket.
+
+Veronica had long been in correspondence with Don Teodoro about the
+arrangements for her coming. He had expected that she would bring a
+staff of servants from Naples with all the paraphernalia of a great
+establishment. She had replied that she intended to employ only her own
+people, and meant to live very simply. He suggested that she should send
+a quantity of new furniture, as the apartments in the castle had not
+been inhabited for nearly twenty years, but Veronica answered that she
+needed no luxuries, and repeated that she meant to live very simply
+indeed. She sent her saddle horse and two pairs of strong cobs with two
+country carriages and a coachman--a very young man, who had served in
+Gianluca's regiment and had been his man. He was to find a man in Muro
+to help him in the stables, and he was the only servant, not a native,
+whom she meant to employ. Don Teodoro had kept ten people at work for a
+month in cleaning the vast old place. Veronica had sent also a box of
+books, some linen and silver, and her fencing things--for she still
+hoped that Bianca would pay her a visit.
+
+The journey by rail occupied between four and five hours, but it did not
+seem so long to her. She was surprised at the excitement she felt, as
+she passed station after station and watched the changing sights and
+the mountains that loomed up in the foreground, while those behind her
+dwindled in the distance. She had travelled very little in her life,
+since she had come back from Rome.
+
+On the platform of the little station at Eboli, Don Teodoro was waiting
+for her. His tall bent figure and enormous nose made him conspicuous at
+a distance, and she could see the big silver spectacles anxiously
+searching for her along the row of carriage windows. As the door was
+opened for her she waved her handkerchief to the old priest, with a
+little gesture of happy enthusiasm, high above her head, and he saw her
+immediately and came forward, three-cornered hat in hand. She suddenly
+loved the smile with which he greeted her.
+
+"You, at least, do not think that I am mad to come to Muro, do you?" she
+asked, standing beside him on the platform while Elettra was handing out
+her smaller belongings.
+
+"Not at all," answered the old man. "You are coming to take care of your
+own people, and it is a good deed. Good deeds generally seem eccentric
+to society--and considering their rarity, that is not extraordinary."
+
+He smiled again, and Veronica laughed.
+
+"Your carriage is here," said Don Teodoro. "May I take you to it? Will
+you give me the tickets, Elettra? They take them at the gate."
+
+Veronica felt a new thrill of joyous freedom and independence, as for
+the first time in her life she set her little foot upon the step of her
+own carriage, and glanced at the simple, well-appointed turnout. The
+coachman sat alone in the middle of the box, a broad-shouldered,
+clean-shaven young fellow of six-and-twenty, in a dull green livery with
+white facings--the colours of the Serra.
+
+"You would not even have a footman," observed Don Teodoro.
+
+"No--not I!" she laughed, still standing in the carriage. "How are the
+horses doing, Giovanni?" she asked of the coachman. "Are they strong
+enough for the work?"
+
+"They are good horses, Excellency," the man answered. "They need work."
+
+"And how is Sultana?" inquired the young girl, who had not seen the mare
+for several days.
+
+"The mare is well, Excellency."
+
+Veronica made Don Teodoro sit beside her, and Elettra installed herself
+opposite them, with her mistress's bags and other things. The luggage
+was piled on a cart which was to follow, and they drove away.
+
+"I sent the carriage down yesterday," observed Don Teodoro. "I came by
+the coach this morning."
+
+"Is it so far?" asked Veronica, whose ideas about the position of her
+property were still uncertain, for it had never struck Elettra that her
+mistress did not know how far it was from Eboli to Muro.
+
+"It is over thirty miles," answered the priest, with a smile. "We are
+beyond civilization in Muro--we are in the province of Basilicata. But
+there are little towns on the way, and you must stop to rest the horses
+and to eat something. It will be almost dark when you get home."
+
+"Home!" repeated Veronica, thoughtfully.
+
+A confused vision rose in her mind, of an imaginary room, looking down
+from a height upon a town below--a room in which she would live
+altogether, with her books and her favourite objects and the
+companionship of her favourite ideas and plans, all of which were to be
+realized and executed in the course of time. She fancied herself gazing
+down from the wide window upon what was almost all hers, upon the
+dwellings of people who lived upon her land, who pastured her flocks and
+drove her cattle, living, moving, and having being as integral animate
+parts of her great inheritance; children of men and women whose fathers'
+fathers had laboured in old days that she might have and enjoy the
+fruits of so much toil, who had given much and from whom had often been
+taken even that which they had not been bound fairly to give; who had
+received nothing in return for generations of blood and bone worn out,
+dried up, and consumed to dust in the service of the great house of
+Serra. They had a right to her, as she had a right to the lands on
+which they lived. There was much talk of rights, Veronica thought,
+nowadays, and those who had none were privileged to speak the loudest
+and to be heard first. But those who, having right on their side, were
+blinded and smitten dumb by the enormous despotism of their self-styled
+betters--by the glare and noise of blatant power in possession--they
+were the ones who really had rights, and if she could give any of them a
+single hundredth part of what was their due, she should be glad that she
+had lived. Wealth, she thought, should not be an accumulation, but a
+distribution, of goods. Charity should no longer mean alms, nor should
+poverty be pauperism. In the young, whole-hearted simplicity of her
+desire to do good, it seemed likely that she might soon be a specimen of
+the strangest of all modern anomalies--the princely socialist. It was
+certainly in her power to try almost any experiment which suggested
+itself, and on a scale which might ultimately prove something to herself
+and others.
+
+It was not that she meant to study political economy, or socialism, nor
+to give the name of an experiment to anything she did. She had been
+struck by the practical necessity for doing something, when Don Teodoro
+had first written to her about the condition of the people in Muro, and
+her own observations made on her farms in the Falernian district--one
+of the richest corners of vine land in all Italy--had convinced her that
+some sort of action was urgently necessary. And if, in the midst of such
+riches, the Falernian peasants were half starved, what must be the state
+of the people on her lands in the Basilicata? Don Teodoro had drawn her
+an accurate picture, full of those plain details which carry more than
+the weight of their mere words. Something should be done at once. She
+had given him power and money to help the very poorest, before she came;
+but her common sense told her that the evil lay too deep in the soil to
+be reached by a light shower of silver--or even by a storm of gold rain.
+
+Inventors, great or small, are rarely theorists; the invention must be
+suited to the necessity, before all things, and the theory may come
+afterwards if anybody cares for it. For a theory is nothing but an
+attempted explanation, and the fact must exist before it can possibly
+need explaining. Bread is a great invention against hunger, and a man
+needs to know nothing about the gastric juices to save himself from
+starvation when the loaf is in his hand. Veronica meant to put the
+loaves where they were needed, within reach of those who needed them.
+
+As she was driven through the rugged country on that May afternoon, she
+felt that she had a future before her, that she was going into action,
+and leaving stagnation behind, and that her own life, which was to be
+her very own, was just beginning. It was to be a life quite different
+from the existence of any one she knew, for, unlike the lives of her
+friends, hers was to have an integral, independent existence of its own,
+with one determined object for all its activity.
+
+The months she had passed in Bianca's house had rather strengthened than
+weakened the unformulated resolution which she had first vaguely reached
+in the dark days after Bosio's death. There had been much solitude, and
+many rides and drives into the country with her beautiful, silent
+friend; and there had been very little contact with the world to disturb
+the onward current of her thoughts. More than all, the first breath of
+liberty after long restraint had enlarged and widened her determination
+to be always free, in spite of the world, and society, and the drone of
+the busy-bodies' gossip. In her heart, the memory of Bosio had grown in
+dignity, till it was solemn and imposing out of all proportion with what
+the man himself had been, even as Veronica had known him. To know the
+truth of what his real life had been would have shaken her own to its
+foundations. But there was no fear of that; and now, her chief companion
+was to be the priest who had loved him as a friend. Possibly that last
+fact had even influenced her a little in her final determination to
+live at Muro, rather than in any other of four or five equally habitable
+or uninhabitable places which she owned, and where she might have begun
+her work under circumstances quite as favourable to success.
+
+She had thought very little of any need she might feel for relaxation
+and amusement, and she was very far from realizing what that solitude
+meant, which she was seeking with so much enthusiasm. She had never yet
+been as much alone as she should have liked to be, and she could not
+imagine that she might possibly become tired of playing the princess in
+the tower for months together, with only the company of one learned old
+ecclesiastic as her sole diversion. The vision of home which she evoked
+was always the same, but she did not even know whether the castle had a
+room which looked down upon the little town. She imagined but a single
+room; the rest was all a blank. She had been told that it was a great
+old fortress, with towers and halls and courts, gloomy, grand, and
+haunted by the ghosts of murdered kings and queens; but the slight
+descriptions she had heard produced no prevision of the reality as
+compared with what she really wanted and was sure that she should find.
+
+She thought of Gianluca, as the carriage rolled along through the lower
+hills, and she looked forward with pleasure to writing about what she
+saw and expected to see. It seemed probable that she would write even
+longer letters to him, now that she was to be quite alone, and she hoped
+that his would be as interesting as ever. She thought again with anger
+of Taquisara's extraordinary conduct, for she was positively sure that
+she was not playing with his friend in any sense of the word. The very
+suggestion would have been insulting, if he had made it in the most
+carefully guarded and tactful language. As he had put it, it had been
+nothing short of outrageous.
+
+Gianluca must be blind indeed, she assured herself, if he fancied that
+she meant more than friendship by the constant exchange of letters with
+him. It might be eccentric; it might be looked upon as utterly and
+unpardonably unconventional, but it could never be regarded as a
+flirtation by letter. The proof of that, Veronica argued to herself, was
+that both of them knew that it was nothing of the sort, a manner of
+begging the question familiar to those who wish to do as they please
+without hindrance from within or without.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+The roads were good, for it was the month of May. In winter, even
+Veronica's strong horses could hardly have dragged the light carriage to
+its destination in one day. It was but little after ten o'clock in the
+morning when Veronica got out upon the platform of the railway station
+at Eboli; it was sunset, and the full moon was rising, when her carriage
+stopped at the entrance of the mountain town.
+
+It had been a very long day, and she had seen much that was quite new to
+her, and different from what she had expected. At first, indeed, she was
+amazed at the richness of the country beyond Eboli, as she was driven
+for nearly an hour through what was literally a forest of ancient olive
+trees, interrupted only here and there by a broad field of vines, cut
+low and trained upon short stakes; and from the rising ground beyond
+Carpella, where the road winds up the first hill, she looked back and
+saw the shimmering grey-green light of the olive leaves, lying like a
+delicate mantle over the flat country and in the great hollow, from
+Eboli to the deep gorge wherein the ancient city of Campania lies as in
+a nest. A part of the olive land was hers; and as she drove along, the
+midday breeze blew some of the tiny, star-like olive blossoms into her
+lap. She took one in her fingers and looked at it closely and could just
+smell its very faint, aromatic odour.
+
+"It is the first greeting from what is yours," said Don Teodoro, with a
+smile.
+
+"The wind brings me my own flowers," answered Veronica, and she laughed
+softly and happily.
+
+Up steep hills and down into deep valleys, across high, arched stone
+bridges, beneath which the water of the Sele was streaming fast and
+clear amid white limestone boulders and over broad reaches of white
+pebbles that were dazzling in the sun--and the olive trees were left
+behind, and here and there were patches of big timber, oaks to which the
+old, brown leaves still clung in the spring, and many poplars straight
+and feathery with leaves but yet half grown. But the land was by degrees
+less rich and less cultivated, till gradually it changed to a rough and
+stony country, and even from far off Veronica could see the little
+flocks of sheep dark brown and white, and small herds of cloud-grey
+cattle, pasturing and moving slowly on the hillsides above and below the
+winding road.
+
+She looked at the shepherds when they were near enough for her to see
+them. As she had left Eboli, she had seen one, driving a flock of sheep
+along the high road, and she had wondered whether there were many of his
+kind. He was a magnificently handsome young fellow of two or three and
+twenty, dressed in loose brown velveteens, with a belted jacket and a
+spotless shirt, strong, well-made shoes, leathern gaiters, and a flat
+cap, and he carried the traditional hatchet of the southern shepherd. He
+strode along with a light and easy gait, and looked more like a young
+gentleman in a rather eccentric but well-made shooting-dress, than like
+a herdsman. But he was from Eboli itself, and a native would have told
+her that the people of Eboli were "exceedingly fanatic about dress." The
+men and the clothes she now saw were very different; tall, grim figures
+in vast and often ragged brown cloaks that reached almost to their feet;
+small, battered, pointed hats; rough, muddy hose that should have once
+been white; shoes that loaded their steps like lead; and they moved
+slowly, with bent heads, rough, long-unshaven faces, eyes too hollow,
+horny hands too lean--wild, half-fed creatures, worse off than the
+flocks they drove, by all the degrees of the inverse ratio between man,
+who needs man's help, and beast, that needs only nature.
+
+There was that same grimness--there is no other word--in the faces of
+almost all the people Veronica now met, as the road wound higher and
+then descended through Oliveto, the first of the mountain villages.
+There was in them all the look of men and women who know that the
+struggle is hopeless, but who will not, or cannot, die and be at rest.
+There was the expression of those who will no longer make any effort
+except for the bare, hard bread that keeps them above ground, and who,
+having toiled through the terrible daylight that is their cruel
+task-master, lie down as they are, when work is done, to forget daylight
+and life if they can, in a mercifully heavy sleep. But before their
+bones are half rested, the pitiless day is upon them, and drives them
+out to labour again till they are stupid with weariness and only not
+faint enough to faint and forget.
+
+The people sometimes stood still and stared at the young princess as she
+drove by, with the old priest beside her. But the majority went on,
+indifferent and far beyond anything like interest or curiosity. Only the
+shepherds' great cur dogs, of all breeds and colours, but always big and
+fierce, barked furiously at the carriage and plunged furiously after it,
+pulling up suddenly and turning back with a growl when they had followed
+it for half a minute. The women, in ragged black or dark, checked
+skirts, with torn red woollen shawls hanging from their heads, glanced
+sidelong at Veronica, when they were still young; but the older ones
+went by without giving her a look, their leathern, Sibylline faces set,
+their old lids wrinkled by everlasting effort till they almost hid the
+small dark eyes. The most of them carried something in their
+hands,--faggots, covered baskets, small sacks of potatoes, or corn, or
+beans; and when the load was heavy they walked with a sharp, jerking
+turn of the hips to right and left that was almost like a dislocation,
+and the wrinkles in the faces of these heavy-laden ones were deep folds,
+as in the hide of a loose-skinned beast. For in that country to be
+strong is to be cursed; it means double work and double burden, where
+everything that breathes and moves and can be found to labour is driven
+to the very breaking point of strain.
+
+But as Veronica drove on, there were fewer men and women in the road,
+and only once in an hour or so, a huge cart, piled up with wine barrels,
+lumbered along, drawn by four or five deathly-looking mules that
+stumbled when they had to stop or start--shadowy creatures, the ghosts
+of their kind, as it were.
+
+The villages were worse than the open country, for in them the appalling
+poverty was gathered together in its muddiest colours and set in fixed
+pictures which Veronica never forgot. In the May weather, the doors of
+low dwellings were open, and the black and white pigs wandered
+unhindered from the filthy street without to the misery within,
+fattening on the poor waste of the desperately poor, fattening in the
+sun that drove their wretched betters to the daily fight with
+starvation, fattening in the vile filth to which starvation was dully
+indifferent, since cleanliness meant labour that brought no bread.
+
+To the right and left the barren mountains reared their enormous
+baldness to the sun, deserts raised up broadside, as it were, and set on
+end, that their bareness might be the better seen and known to the world
+around. Here and there, from their bases, dark wooded spurs ran out
+across the rising valley, and the road wound round them, in and out, and
+up and down, and over stone bridges big and little, and then up in
+terribly steep ascent, southeastwards to high Laviano, looking towards
+the pass by which the highway leads from Ciliento to Basilicata.
+
+In Laviano, facing the wretched houses, stood the grand beginning of a
+wretchedly unfinished building, one of those utter failures of great
+hopes, which trace the track of invading liberty through the south. It
+came, it saw, and it began many things--but it did not conquer and it
+completed very little. In the first wild enthusiasm of the Garibaldian
+revolution, even poor, hill-perched, filth-stricken, pig-breeding
+Laviano was to be a city, and forthwith, in the general stye, the walls
+of a great municipal building, from which lofty destinies were to be
+guided and controlled in the path to greatness, began to rise, with
+strength of stone masonry, and arches of well-hewn basalt, and divisions
+within for halls and stairways, and many offices. But the beams of the
+first story were never laid across the lower walls. There was no more
+money, and what had been built was a palace for the pigs. Laviano had
+spent its little all, and gone into debt, to be great, and had failed;
+and though the people had earned some of their own money back as wages
+in the building, more than half of it slipped into the pockets of
+architects, who went away smiling, jeering, and happy, to prey upon the
+next foolish village that would be great and could not. And above, from
+a hill on the mountain's spur outside the village, still frowned intact
+the heavy four-towered castle, complete and sound as when it had been
+built, the lasting monument of those hard warriors of a sterner time,
+who could not only take, but hold--and they held long and cruelly.
+
+Veronica looked up backwards at the towers, as the horses stood a while
+to breathe after the steep ascent, and she asked Don Teodoro to whom the
+castle belonged.
+
+"It is yours," he answered. "The castle is yours, the village is yours,
+the hills are yours. Your steward lives in the castle. You have much
+property here, more miles of good and bad land than I can tell."
+
+"And is it all like this? Are the people all like these?"
+
+"No. There are poorer people in the hills."
+
+The happy laugh that had come when the wind had blown the olive blossoms
+of Eboli upon her lap had long been silent now. Her face was grave and
+sorrowful, and she drew in her lips as though something hurt her. Some
+half-naked children stood shyly watching her from a little distance.
+Pigs grunted and rubbed themselves against the wheels of the carriage,
+and the coachman lashed backwards at them with his whip. But the cruel
+day was not yet over, and the people had not come back from their toil,
+so that the place was almost deserted still. There was an evil smell in
+the air, and the children's faces were pale and swollen and dirty.
+
+Veronica wondered how any people could be poorer than these, and her
+face grew still more sad. She tried to speak to the children, but they
+could not understand her. She got some little coins from her purse, but
+they were too much frightened to come forward and take them. They were
+not afraid of the priest, however, and Don Teodoro got out of the
+carriage and put the money into their horrible little hands, and they
+ran away with strange small cries and wild, half-noiseless laughter--if
+laughter can be anything but noisy. Let such words pass as come; for no
+words of our tongue can quite tell all Veronica saw and heard on that
+day. The great Italian myth survives in foreign nations; it has even
+more life, perhaps, in Italy itself, north of the Roman line; but only
+those know what Italy is, who have trudged on foot, and ridden by
+mountain paths, and driven by southern highways, through hill and valley
+and mountain and plain, from house to house, where there are neither
+inns nor taverns, throughout that vast region which is the half of the
+whole country, or more, and where the abomination of desolation reigns
+supreme in broad day.
+
+That Italy has done what she has done in thirty years, to be a power
+among nations, is a marvel, a wonder, and almost a miracle. That she
+should have done it at all, is the greatest mistake ever committed by a
+civilized nation, and it is irrevocable, as its results are to be fatal
+and lasting. But upon the good reality of unity, the deadly dream of
+military greatness descended as a killing blight, and the evil vision of
+political power has blasted the common sense of a whole people. It is
+one thing to be one, as a united family, each working for the good of
+each and all; it is another thing, and a worse thing, to be one as a
+vast and idle army, sitting down to besiege its own storehouses, each
+eating something of the whole and doing nothing to increase that whole,
+till all is gone, and the vision fades in the awakening from the dream,
+leaving the bare nakedness of desolation to tell the story of a huge
+mistake.
+
+Even Veronica's strong horses were well nigh tired out when they reached
+the dismal solitude of the high pass above Laviano; and she herself was
+wearied and faint with the gloom, and the poverty, and the barrenness of
+so much that was hers. But her mouth was set and firm, and she meant
+that something should be done before many days, which should begin a
+vast and lasting change. She did not know what she was undertaking, nor
+how far she might be led in the attempt to do good against great odds of
+evil on all sides; but she was not discouraged, and she had no intention
+of drawing back.
+
+It was a very long day. As the hours wore on, the three ate something
+from time to time, from a basket of provisions which Elettra had
+brought, and at which Veronica had laughed. But the air of the mountains
+was keen, and there was not too much in the basket, after all.
+
+Then, in the shadow below the sun-line cut by the mountains across the
+earth, she saw a sharp peak, grey and regular as a pyramid, rising in
+the midst of the high valley, and then beyond it, as the carriage rolled
+along, there was a misty landscape of a far, low valley--and then, all
+at once, the brown, tiled roofs of her own Muro were at her feet, and
+far to the left, out of the houses, rose the round grey keep of the
+fortress. The setting sun was behind the mountains, and the moon, near
+to the full, hung, round and white, just above the tower, in the pale
+eastern sky. From the second turning of the steep descent, Veronica
+could see a huge bastion of the castle above the roofs, jutting out like
+an independent round fort.
+
+Many of the people knew that she was coming, and some had hastened from
+their work to see her as soon as she arrived. Curious, silent, pale,
+dirty, they thronged about the carriage. An old woman touched Veronica's
+skirt, and then brought her hand back to her lips and kissed it. Then
+another did the same--a thin, dark-browed girl with a ragged red shawl
+on her head. The uncouth men stood shoulder to shoulder, staring with
+unwinking eyes. A tall, pale shepherd youth was erect and motionless in
+a tattered hat and a brown cloak, overtopping the others by his head and
+thin throat, and there was something Sphinx-like in the expression of
+his still, sad face.
+
+On Veronica's right, as the carriage halted, was the public fountain.
+Twenty or thirty tall, thin girls in short black frocks, displaying
+grimy stockings and coarse shoes, or bare legs and muddy red feet, were
+waiting their turns to fill the long wooden casks they carried on their
+heads. The fountain had but two little streams of water, and it took a
+long time to fill a cask. At the sound of the carriage wheels, most of
+the girls turned slowly round to see the sight, their empty barrels
+balanced cross-wise on their heads. They did not even lift a hand to
+steady their burdens as they changed their positions. They stared
+steadily. Veronica looked to the right and left and tried to smile, to
+show that she was pleased. But the visible, jagged edges of their
+outward misery cut cruelly at her heart, for they were her people;
+nominally, by old feudal right, they were all her people, and her
+father's father had held right of justice and of life and death over
+them all; and in actual fact they were almost all her people, since they
+lived in her houses, worked on her lands, and ate a portion of her
+bread, though it was such a very little one as could barely keep them
+alive.
+
+She tried to smile, and some of the girls held out their fingers towards
+her and then kissed them, as though they had touched her dress, as the
+old woman had done. But the men stared stolidly from under the low brims
+of their battered hats. Only the fever-struck shepherd smiled in a
+sickly way and lost his Sphinx-like look all at once.
+
+A man in a white shirt came forward, leading Veronica's mare, all
+saddled for her to mount.
+
+"The carriage cannot go through the streets," said Don Teodoro, in
+explanation. "They are too narrow and too rough."
+
+"No," answered Veronica, as she stepped from the carriage upon the
+muddy stones. "I will walk. If the streets are good enough for my
+people, they are good enough for me."
+
+Even to the good priest this seemed a little exaggeration on her part.
+But she had seen much that day of which she had never dreamed, and in
+her generous heart there was a sort of fierce wrath against so much
+misery, with a strong impulse to share it or cure it, to face the devil
+on his own ground, and beat him to death, hand to hand. It was perhaps
+foolish of her to walk to her own gate, but there was nothing to be
+ashamed of in the feeling which prompted her to do it.
+
+Don Teodoro walked beside her on the left, and Elettra pressed close to
+her on the right, as they threaded the foul black lanes towards the
+castle. The moment she had left the carriage, men and women and children
+had seized eagerly upon her belongings, to carry the bags and rugs and
+little packages, and now they followed her in a compact crowd, all
+talking together in harsh undertones; and from the dark doorways, as she
+went by, old women and old men came out, and more children, half clothed
+in rags, and cripples four or five. The pigs that were out in the lanes
+were caught in the press and struggled desperately to get out of it,
+upsetting even strong men with their heavy bodies as they charged
+through the crowd, grunting and squealing. A few people coming from the
+opposite direction, too, flattened themselves against the black walls
+and low, greasy doors, but there was not room even there, and they also
+were taken up by the throng and driven before, till the small crowd grew
+to a little multitude of miserable, curious, hungry, scrambling
+humanity, squeezing along the narrow way to get sight of the lady before
+she should reach the castle gate.
+
+From time to time the tall old priest turned mildly and protested,
+trying to get more air and elbow room for Veronica.
+
+"Gently, gently, my children!" he called to them. "You will see your
+princess often, for she is come to stay with you."
+
+"Eh, uncle priest!" cried a rough young voice. "That is fair and good,
+but who believes it?"
+
+"Eh, who believes it?" echoed a dozen voices, young and old.
+
+Veronica laid her hand upon Don Teodoro's arm to steady herself as she
+trod upon the slimy stones. She could not have stopped, for the crowd,
+extending far behind her in the dim street, would have pushed her down,
+but she turned her head as she walked and spoke in the direction of the
+people. Her voice rang high and clear over their heads.
+
+"I have come to live with you," she said, and they heard her even far
+off. "It is true. You shall see."
+
+"God render it you!" said a woman's voice. "May God make it true!"
+
+"More than one of them are saying that to themselves," observed Don
+Teodoro, as Veronica looked before her again, and walked on.
+
+Suddenly she came out upon a broader, cleaner way, which led out beyond
+the houses and up, by a sweep, to the low gate of the castle; close
+before her was the great lower bastion which she had seen from a
+distance. She saw now that there was a trellis high up, all over it, on
+which grew a vine; but the leaves were scarcely budding yet. She had not
+time to see much, for the crowd would not let her stop, and as the way
+widened, many ran before her, up to the gate, where they stopped short,
+for there were half a dozen men there in dark green coats, and silver
+buttons, foresters of the estate, who kept them back.
+
+Veronica would have turned once more, to nod to the people and smile at
+the poor women who pressed close upon her, but the crowd was so great
+that as the foresters made way for her, she found herself driven almost
+violently into her own gate, and in the rush, Elettra nearly fell to her
+knees as they got in. The gate clanged behind her, and she heard the
+great bolts sliding into their sockets, as it was made fast. Her men had
+known well enough what to expect from the curiosity of the people. They
+opened a little postern and let in the few who carried her things, and
+who had been shut out with the crowd.
+
+She drew a long breath and looked upward, before her. It was very unlike
+what she had expected. She was in the dark, vaulted way, scarcely eight
+feet broad, and paved with flagstones, which led up to the first small
+court. The masonry was rough, enormous, damp, and blackened with
+dampness and age. From the building around the little enclosure small,
+dark windows looked down upon her. A narrow door was on her right. On
+the left, rough stone steps led up to the keep, and to the eastern side
+of the castle. The door stood open, and there was a lamp in the small
+entry. Before entering, she glanced up at the lintel and saw that the
+ancient arms of the Serra were roughly sculptured in the old marble, and
+she knew that she was on the threshold of her home.
+
+It was more like a gloomy dungeon than the princely castle of which she
+had dreamed. That, indeed, was what it had been through many ages, and
+nothing else. She wondered where the great staircase could be where the
+poor ghost of Queen Joanna sat and shrieked at midnight on the twelfth
+of May. It was near the day, and not being at all timid, she smiled at
+the thought, as she went in. Three or four decently clad women in black
+came forward into the vaulted passage, and smiled and nodded awkwardly.
+They were the people Don Teodoro had engaged for her service. She had a
+word for each and patted them on the shoulder, and they led the way,
+two and two, carrying a light between them, for it was very dark within,
+though there was still broad daylight without.
+
+Then, all at once, she scarcely knew how, Veronica was standing upon a
+little balcony. Behind her, the walls of the embrasure were fully
+fifteen feet thick. Before her, under the glow of the sunset on the one
+hand, and the first pale moonlight on the other, lay a great valley,
+deep and long and broadening fan-like from below her to the far
+distance, where the evening mists were beginning to gather the white
+light of the moon, while the great mountains of the southeast were still
+red with the last blood of the dying day--a view of matchless peace and
+surpassing beauty, such as she had never yet seen. Just then, she looked
+down, and there, at her feet, were the brown roofs of Muro. Her dream
+seemed to be suddenly realized, and she had found the room of which she
+had so often made the picture in her imagination. But it was far more
+beautiful than she had dared to imagine or dream. The lofty fortress was
+built lengthwise along the rock, facing the southwest, to meet the
+winter sun from morning till night; and forever before it lay the wide
+Basilicata, the peace of the valley, the height of the huge mountains,
+the infinite tenderness of a distance that is seen from a vast
+height--in which even what would be near in one plane, is already far by
+depth.
+
+Veronica looked out in silence for a long time, and the day faded at
+last in the sky, while the moon's light whitened and strewed blackness
+across the twilight shadows. The old priest stood beside her, his
+three-cornered hat in his hand. But the silver spectacles had
+disappeared. He could feel what was before him without seeing it
+distinctly.
+
+"I knew that I should find it," said Veronica, at last. "I always knew
+that it was here. I shall live in this room."
+
+"It is a good room," said Don Teodoro, quietly, and not at all
+understanding what she meant.
+
+"And I have an idea that I shall die in this room," added the young
+girl, in a dreamy tone, not caring whether he heard or not. "I am the
+last of them, you know. They all came from here in the beginning, ever
+so long ago. It would be natural that the last of them should die here."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, let us not talk of such sad things!" cried the
+priest, protesting against the mere mention of death, as almost every
+Italian will.
+
+"Have they made it a sitting-room?" asked Veronica, turning from the
+balcony into the deep embrasure.
+
+She had scarcely glanced at the furniture, for she had made straight for
+the window on entering. She looked about her now. There were dark
+tapestries on the walls. There was a big polished table in the middle,
+and a dozen or more carved chairs, covered with faded brocade, were
+arranged in regular order on the three sides away from the windows. The
+high vault was roughly painted in fresco, with cherubs and garlands of
+flowers in the barbarous manner of Italian art fifty years ago. There
+was a low marble mantelpiece, and on it stood six brass candlesticks at
+precisely even distances, one from another, the six candles being all
+lighted. But there was a lamp on the table. Veronica smiled.
+
+"You must forgive me if I have not known what to do," said Don Teodoro,
+humbly, but smiling also. "I have seen something of civilization in my
+wanderings, but I never attempted to arrange a house before. This is a
+very large house, if one calls such a place a house at all."
+
+"I suppose there are thirty or forty rooms?"
+
+"There are three hundred and sixty-five altogether," answered the
+priest, his smile broadening. "They are all named in the inventory.
+There is a legend about the place to the effect that there is a three
+hundred and sixty-sixth, which no one can find. Of course the inventory
+includes every roofed space between walls, from the dungeon at the top
+of the keep to the dark room under the trap-door in the last hall on
+this lower story. But you will be surprised, to-morrow, if you go over
+the place. It is much bigger than seems possible, because you can never
+really see it from outside unless you go down into the plain."
+
+"And where do you think that other room is?" asked Veronica, who was
+young enough to take interest in the mystery.
+
+"Heaven knows! Perhaps it does not exist at all. But as I was saying, my
+dear princess, I found it hard to arrange an apartment for you, not
+knowing how you might choose to select your quarters. So I had the
+tapestries cleaned and hung up, and the chairs dusted and the tables
+polished, and some lights got ready on this floor, and your bedroom is
+the last."
+
+"The one with the trap-door?" asked Veronica. "That is very amusing!"
+
+"I had the dark room below well cleaned, and the trap has been screwed
+down," said Don Teodoro. "I thought that there might be rats there.
+Elettra has the room before yours. But you are tired, and you must be
+hungry. It is my fault for not leaving you at once."
+
+"But you will dine with me? To-night and every night, Don Teodoro--that
+is understood."
+
+Half an hour later, they sat down to table in the light of the lamp and
+the six candles, in the room from which Veronica had looked out upon the
+valley. But they were both too tired to talk, though they made faint
+attempts at conversation, and as soon as the meal was over, the old
+priest begged leave to go home.
+
+"Do not be afraid," he said, as he bade Veronica good night. "There are
+several men in the house. You are not all alone with your five women.
+The foresters have their headquarters here."
+
+Veronica was anything but timid or nervous, but when she was in bed in
+her own room at the south corner of the castle, watching the shadows
+cast up by the flickering night light upon the ancient tapestries, she
+realized that she was very lonely indeed, she and scarcely a dozen
+servants, in the vast fortress wherein a thousand men had once found
+ample room to live. Brave as she was, she glanced once or twice at the
+corner of the room where the trap-door was placed. There was a carpet
+over it, and a table stood there which Elettra had arranged hastily for
+the toilet table. Veronica wondered what end that dark place below had
+served in ancient days, and whether she were not perhaps lying in the
+very room in which Queen Joanna had been smothered by the two Hungarian
+soldiers. It seemed probable.
+
+But she was very tired, and she fell asleep before long, fancying that
+she was looking out from the balcony again, with the brown roofs of her
+people's houses at her feet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+Veronica was awake early in the May morning, and looked out again upon
+the great valley she had seen at sunset. It was all mist and light,
+without distinct outline. A fresh breeze blew into her face as she stood
+at the open window, and the sun was yet on the southeast wall, so that
+she stood in the clear, bluish shadow which high buildings cast only in
+the morning.
+
+She had slept soundly without dreams, and she wondered how she could
+have ever glanced last night towards the place in the corner where the
+trap-door was hidden under her toilet table, or how she could have felt
+herself lonely and not quite safe, in her own castle, with a dozen of
+her own people, when she had never been afraid in the Palazzo Macomer.
+She pushed back her brown hair, a little impatiently, and laughed as she
+turned to Elettra.
+
+"We are well here, Excellency," said the maid, with a smile of
+satisfaction.
+
+She rarely spoke unless Veronica addressed her, and was never a woman of
+many words.
+
+"And you saw no ghosts?" Veronica laughed.
+
+"I am afraid of ghosts that wear felt slippers," answered Elettra.
+
+An hour later Veronica sent for Don Teodoro, and they went over the
+castle together. He led her first to the high dungeon on the north side.
+The natural rock sprang up at that end, and some of the steps were cut
+in it. At the top, the tower was round, with a high parapet, and an
+extension on one side, all filled with earth and planted with cabbages
+and other green things.
+
+"The under-steward had a little vegetable garden here," said Don
+Teodoro. "I suppose that you will plant flowers. Will you look over the
+parapet on that side?"
+
+Veronica trod the soft earth daintily and reached the wall. She glanced
+over it, and then drew a deep breath of surprise. Below her was a sheer
+fall of a thousand feet, to the bottom of a desolate ravine that ran up
+to northward in an incredibly steep ascent.
+
+Then they went into the ancient prison, which was a round, vaulted
+chamber, shaped like the inside of the sharp end of an eggshell, with
+one small grated window, three times a man's height from the stone
+floor. The little iron door had huge bolts and locks, and might have
+been four or five hundred years old. On the stone walls, men who had
+been imprisoned there had chipped out little crosses, and made initials,
+and rough dates in the fruitless attempts to commemorate their obscure
+suffering.
+
+Veronica and Don Teodoro descended again, and he led her through many
+strange places, dimly lighted by small windows piercing ten feet of
+masonry, and through the enormous hall which had been the guard-room or
+barrack in old days, and had served as a granary since then, and up and
+down dark stairs, through narrow ways, out upon jutting bastions, down
+and up, backwards and forwards, as it seemed to her, till she could only
+guess at the direction in which she was going, by the glimpses of
+distant mountain and valley as she passed the irregularly placed
+windows. Several of her people followed her, and one went before with a
+huge bunch of ancient keys, opening and shutting all manner of big and
+little doors before her and after her. Now and then one of the men in
+green coats lighted a lantern and showed her where steep black steps led
+down into dark cellars, and vaults, and underground places.
+
+She saw it all, but she was glad to get back to the room she already
+loved best, from which the balcony outside the windows looked down upon
+the valley.
+
+And there she began at once to install herself, causing her books to be
+unpacked and arranged, as well as the few objects familiar to her eyes,
+which she had brought with her. Among these was the photograph of Bosio
+Macomer. Those of Gregorio and Matilde had disappeared. She hesitated,
+as she held the picture in her hand, as to whether she should keep it in
+her bedroom, or in the sitting-room, in which she meant chiefly to live,
+and she looked at it with sad eyes. She decided that it should be in the
+sitting-room. Where everything was hers, she had a right to show what
+had been all but quite hers at the last. The six brass candlesticks were
+taken away, and Bosio's photograph was set upon the long, low
+mantelpiece. His death had after all been more a surprise, a horror, a
+disappointment, than the wound it might have been if she had really
+loved him, and it is only the wound that leaves a scar. The momentary
+shock is presently forgotten when the young nerves are rested and the
+vision of a great moment fades to the half-tone of the general past.
+Between her present, too, and the night of Bosio's death, had come the
+attempt upon her own life, and all the sudden change that had followed
+the catastrophe. She was too brave to realize, even now, that she might
+have died at Matilde's hands. She had to go over the facts to make
+herself believe that she had been almost killed. But the whole affair
+had brought a revolution into her life, since Bosio had been gone.
+
+Another companionship had taken the place of his, so that she hardly
+missed him now. She would miss Gianluca's letters far more than Bosio,
+if they should suddenly stop, and the mere thought that the
+correspondence might be broken off gave her a sharp little pain. The
+idea crossed her mind while she was arranging her writing-table near her
+favourite window, for all writing seemed to be connected with Gianluca,
+so that she could not imagine passing more than a day or two without
+setting down something on paper which he was to read, and to answer. To
+lose that close intimacy of thought would be to lose much.
+
+But Gianluca had written on the morning of her departure, and before
+Veronica had half finished what she was doing, one of her women brought
+her his letter, for the post came in at about midday. It came alone, for
+Bianca had not written yet, and Veronica's correspondence was not large.
+She had not even thought of ordering a newspaper to be sent to her. Her
+work and occupation were to be in Muro, and she cared very little about
+what might happen anywhere else. She broke the seal and read the letter
+eagerly.
+
+It was like most of his letters at first, being full of matters about
+which he had talked with her, and written in the graceful way which was
+especially his and which had so much charm for her. But towards the end
+his courage must have failed him a little, for there were sad words and
+one or two phrases that had in them something touching and tender to
+which she was not accustomed. He did not tell her that he was ill and
+that he feared lest he might never see her again, for he was far too
+careful as yet of hinting at the truth she would not understand. They
+were very little things that told her of his sadness--an unfinished
+sentence ending in a dash, the fall of half a dozen harmonious words
+that were like a beautiful verse and vaguely reminded her of Leopardi's
+poetry--small touches here and there which had either never slipped from
+his pen before, or which she had never noticed.
+
+They pleased her. She would not have been a human woman if she had not
+been a little glad to be missed for herself, even though the writing was
+to continue. She read the last part of the letter over three times, the
+rest only twice, and then she laid it in an empty drawer of her table,
+rather tenderly, to be the first of many. That should be Gianluca's
+especial place.
+
+Amidst her first arrangements for her own comfort, she did not forget
+what she looked upon as her chief work, and before that day was over she
+had begun what was to be a systematic improvement of Muro. Direct and
+practical, with a sense beyond her years, she did not hesitate. The
+first step was to clean the little town and pave the streets. The next
+to visit and examine the dwellings.
+
+"The place shall be clean," said Veronica to the steward, who stood
+before her table, receiving her orders.
+
+"But, Excellency, how can it be clean when there are pigs everywhere?"
+inquired the man, astonished at her audacity.
+
+"There shall be no more pigs in Muro," answered the young princess. "The
+people shall choose as many trustworthy old men and boys as are
+necessary to look after the creatures. They shall be kept at night in
+some barn or old building a mile or two from here, and they shall be fed
+there, or pastured there. I will pay what it costs."
+
+"Excellency, it is impossible! There will be a revolution!" The steward
+held up his hands in amazement.
+
+"Very well, then. Let us have a revolution. But do not tell me that what
+I order is impossible. I will have no impossibilities. The town belongs
+to me, and it shall be inhabited by human beings, and not by pigs. If
+you make difficulties, you may go. I can find people to carry out my
+orders. Begin and clean the streets to-day. Take as many hands as you
+need and pay them full labourer's wages, but see that they work. Make a
+list of the pigs and their owners. Decide where you will keep them. Hire
+the swineherds. If I find one pig in Muro a week from to-day, and if, in
+fine weather, I cannot walk dry shod where I please, I will take another
+steward. I intend to remit a quarter of all the rents this year. You may
+tell the people so. You may go and see about these things at once, but
+let me hear no more of impossibilities. Only children say that things
+are impossible."
+
+The man understood that the old order had departed and that Veronica
+Serra meant to be obeyed without question, and he never again raised his
+voice to suggest that there might be what he called a revolution if her
+orders were carried out.
+
+As for the people of Muro, they were dumb with astonishment. They had a
+municipality, of course, a syndic, and a secretary, and certain head
+men, to whose authority they were accustomed to appeal in
+everything--generally against the extortion of the stewards who had
+obeyed Gregorio Macomer. But before Veronica had been in Muro ten days,
+the municipality was nothing more than the shadow of a name. The syndic
+was her tenant, and bowed down to her, and the rest of the illiterate
+officials followed his lead. It was natural enough; for they all
+benefited by the lowering of the rents, and they were quick to see that
+she meant to spend money in the place, which would be to the advantage
+of every one before long.
+
+It was she who made the revolution, and not they. Before the first week
+was out the pigs were gone, and she walked dry shod over the stones from
+the castle to the entrance of the village. In less than a month the
+principal way was levelled and half paved, and masons were everywhere at
+work repairing those of the houses which were in most immediate need of
+improvement.
+
+"You are Christians," she said to a little crowd that gathered round her
+one day, while she was watching the setting-up of a new door. "You shall
+live like Christians. When you have been clean for a month, you will
+never wish to be dirty again."
+
+"That is true," answered an old man, shaking his head thoughtfully.
+"But, in the name of God, who has ever thought of these things? It
+needed this angel from Paradise."
+
+Veronica laughed. They were docile people, and they soon found out that
+the young princess was as absolute a despot in character as ever
+terrorized Rome or ruled the Russias. At the merest suggestion of
+opposition, the small aquiline nose seemed to quiver, the little head
+was thrown back, the brown eyes gleamed, the delicate gloved hand either
+closed upon itself quickly or went out in a gesture of command.
+
+But then, they sometimes saw another look in her face, though not often,
+and perhaps it was less natural to her though not less true to her
+nature. They had seen the brown eyes soften wonderfully and the small
+hands do very tender things, now and then, for poor children and
+suffering women when, no one else was at hand to give aid. Yet, at most
+times, she was quiet, cheerful, natural, for it happened more and more
+rarely that any one opposed her will.
+
+She became to them the very incarnation of power on earth. She would
+have been thought rich in any country; to their utter wretchedness her
+wealth was fabulous beyond bounds of fairy tale. Most persons would have
+admitted that she was wonderfully practical and showed a great deal of
+common sense in what she did; to her own people she seemed
+preternaturally wise, only to be compared with Providence for her
+foresight, and much more occupied with their especial welfare than
+Providence could be expected to be, considering the extent of the world.
+She was endlessly charitable to women and children and old men, but to
+those who could work she was inexorable. She paid well, but she insisted
+that the work should be done honestly. Some of the younger ones murmured
+at her hardness when they had tried to deceive her.
+
+"Would you take false money from me?" she asked. "Why should I take
+false work from you? You have good work to sell, and I have good money
+to give you for it. I do not cheat you. Do not try to cheat me."
+
+They laughed shamefacedly and worked better the next time, for they were
+not without common sense, either. Doubtless, she attempted and expected
+more than was possible at first, but she had Don Teodoro at her elbow,
+and he was able to direct her energy, though he could not have
+moderated it. He found it hard, indeed, to keep pace with her swift
+advances towards the civilization of Muro, and he was quite incapable of
+entering into the boldness of some of her generalizations, which, to
+tell the truth, were youthful enough when she first expressed her ideas
+to him. But while one of his two great passions was learning, the other
+was charity, in that simple form which gives all it has to any one who
+seems to be in trouble--the charity that is universal, and easily
+imposed upon, and that exists spontaneously and, as it were, for its own
+sake, in certain warm-hearted people--an indiscriminate love of giving
+to the poor, the overflow of a heart so full of kindness that it would
+be kind to a withering flower or a half-dead tree, rather than not
+expend itself at all. And so, seeing the great things that were done by
+Veronica in Muro, and secretly giving of his very little where she gave
+very much, Don Teodoro grew daily to be more and more happy in the
+satisfaction of his strongest instinct; and little by little he, also,
+came to look upon his princess as the incarnation of a good power come
+to illuminate his darkness and to lift his people out of degradation to
+human estate.
+
+Veronica was happy too. There is a sort of exhilaration and daily
+surprise in the first use of real power in any degree, and she enjoyed
+her own sensations to the fullest extent. When she was alone, she wrote
+about them to Gianluca, giving him what was almost a daily chronicle of
+her new life, and waiting anxiously for the answers to her letters which
+came with almost perfect regularity for some time after her own arrival
+at Muro.
+
+They pleased her, too, though the note of sadness was more accentuated
+in them, as time went on and spring ran into summer. He had hoped,
+perhaps, that she might tire of her solitude and come down to Naples, if
+only for a few days; or at least, that something might happen to break
+what promised to be a long separation. He longed for a sight of her, and
+said so now and then, for letter-writing could not fill up the aching
+emptiness she had left in his already empty life. He had not her
+occupations and interests to absorb his days and make each hour seem too
+short, and, moreover, he loved her, whereas she was not at all in love
+with him.
+
+Then, a little later, there was a tone of complaint in what he wrote,
+which suddenly irritated her. He told her that his life was dreary and
+tiresome, and that the people about him did not understand him. She
+answered that he should occupy himself, that he should find something to
+do and do it, and that she herself never had time enough in the day for
+all she undertook. It was the sort of letter which a very young woman
+will sometimes write to a man whose existence she does not understand,
+a little patronizing in tone and superior with the self-assurance of
+successful and unfeeling youth. She even pointed out to him that there
+were several things which he did not know, but which he might learn if
+he chose, all of which was undoubtedly true, though it was not at all
+what he wanted. For him, however, the whole letter was redeemed by a
+chance phrase at the end of it. She carelessly wrote that she wished he
+were at Muro to see what she had done in a short time. He knew that the
+words meant nothing, but he lived on them for a time, because she had
+written them to him. His next letter was more cheerful. He repeated her
+own words, as though wishing her to see how much he valued them, saying
+that he wished indeed that he were at Muro, to see what she had
+accomplished. To some extent, he added, the fulfilment of the wish only
+depended on herself, for in the following week he was going with his
+father and mother and all the family to spend a month in a place they
+had not far from Avellino, and that, as she knew, was not at an
+impossible distance from Muro. But of course he could not intrude alone
+upon her solitude.
+
+When she next wrote, Veronica made no reference to this hint of his. The
+man was not the same person to her as the correspondent, and she very
+much preferred exchanging letters with him to any conversation. She did
+not forget what he had said, however, and when she supposed that the
+Della Spina family had gone to the country she addressed her letters to
+him near Avellino. He had not yet gone, however, and he soon wrote from
+Naples complaining that he had no news from her.
+
+On the following day Veronica was surprised to receive a letter
+addressed in a hand she did not know. It was from Taquisara, and she
+frowned a little angrily as she glanced at the signature before reading
+the contents. It began in the formal Italian manner,--"Most gentle
+Princess,"--and it ended with an equally formal assurance of respectful
+devotion. But the matter of the letter showed little formality.
+
+"I have hesitated long before writing to you"--it said--"both because I
+offended you at our last meeting and because I have not been sure, until
+to-day, about the principal matter of which I have to speak. In the
+first place, I beg you to forgive me for having spoken to you as I did
+at the Princess Corleone's house. I am not skilful at saying
+disagreeable things gracefully. I was in earnest, and I meant what I
+said, but I am sincerely sorry that I should have said it rudely. I
+earnestly beg you to pardon the form which my intention took.
+
+"Secondly, I wish very much that I might see you. I fear that you would
+not receive me, and from the ordinary point of view of society you would
+be acting quite rightly, since you are really living alone. The world,
+however, is quite sure that you have a companion, an elderly gentlewoman
+who is a distant relation of yours. It will never be persuaded that this
+good lady does not exist, because it cannot possibly believe that you
+would have the audacity to live alone in your own house.
+
+"I wish to see you, because my friend Gianluca cannot live much longer.
+You may remember that he walked with difficulty, and even used a stick,
+before you left Naples. He can now hardly walk at all. According to the
+doctors, he has a mortal disease of the spine and cannot live more than
+two or three months. Perhaps I am telling you this very roughly, but it
+cannot pain you as much as it does me, and you ought to know it. He is
+not the man to let any one tell you of his state, and I have taken it
+upon myself to write to you without asking his opinion. I told you once
+what you were to him. All that I told you is ten times more true, now.
+Between you and life, he would not choose, if he could; but he is losing
+both. As a Christian woman, in commonest kindness, if you can see him
+before he dies, do so. And you can, if you will. He was to have been
+moved to the place near Avellino a few days ago, but he was too ill.
+They all leave next week, unless he should be worse. You are strong and
+well, and it would not be much for you to make that short journey,
+considering Gianluca's condition.
+
+"I shall not tell him that I have written to you, and I leave to you to
+let him know of my writing, or not, as you think fit."
+
+Here followed the little final phrase and the signature. Veronica let
+the sheet fall upon her table, and gazed long and steadily at the
+tapestry on the wall opposite her. Her hands clasped each other suddenly
+and then fell apart loosely and lay idle before her. Her head sank
+forward a little, but her eyes still held the point on which they were
+looking.
+
+In the first shock of knowing that Gianluca was to die, she felt as
+though she had lost a part of him already, and something she dearly
+valued seemed to go out of her life. Her instinct was not to go to him
+and see him while she could, but to look forward to the blankness that
+would be before her when he should be gone. Something of him was an
+integral part of her life. But there was something of him for which she
+felt that she hardly cared at all.
+
+She was probably selfish in the common sense of that ill-used word. It
+is generally applied to persons who do not love those that love them,
+but are glad of their existence, as it were, for the sake of something
+they receive and perhaps return--as Veronica did. But she did not ask
+herself questions, for she had never had the smallest inclination to
+analysis or introspection. It was as clear to her as ever that she did
+not love Gianluca in the least, but that she should find it hard to be
+happy without him. She had been nearer to loving poor Bosio than
+Gianluca, though the truth was that she had never loved any one yet.
+
+But she pitied Gianluca with all her heart. That was the most she could
+do for that part of him which was nothing to her, and her face grew very
+sad as she thought of what he might be suffering, and of how hard it
+must be to die so young, with all the world before one. She could not
+imagine herself as ever dying.
+
+She sat still a long time and tried to think of what she should do. But
+her thoughts wandered, and presently she found that she was asking
+herself whether it were her destiny to be fatal to those who loved her.
+But the mere idea of fatality displeased her as something which could
+oppose her, and perhaps defy her. After all, Gianluca might not die. She
+looked over Taquisara's letter again.
+
+He was a man who meant what he said, and he wrote in earnest. There was
+something in him that appealed to her, as like to like. He had been rude
+and had spoken almost insolently, and even now he dared to write that he
+meant what he had said and only regretted the words he had used. For
+them, indeed, his apology was sufficient--for the rest, she was
+undecided. She went on to what referred to Gianluca, and her face grew
+grave and sad again. It must be true.
+
+She laid the letter in the drawer where she kept Gianluca's, but in a
+separate corner, by itself. Then she took up her pen to write to
+Gianluca, intending to take up the daily written conversation at the
+point where she had last broken off, on the previous evening. With an
+effort, she wrote a few words, and then stopped short and leaned back in
+her chair, staring at the tapestry. It was a grim farce to write about
+her streets and her houses and her charities to a man who was dying--and
+who loved her. Yet she could not speak of his illness without letting
+him know that Taquisara had informed her of it. She tried to go on, and
+stopped again. Poor Gianluca--he was so young! All at once her pity
+overflowed unexpectedly, and she felt the tears in her eyes and on her
+cheeks. She brushed them away, and left her letter unfinished.
+
+Half an hour later she was with Don Teodoro, busy about her usual
+occupations and plans. But she was absent-minded, and matters did not go
+well. She left him earlier than usual and shut herself up in her own
+room. She had not been there a quarter of an hour, however, before she
+felt stifled and oppressed by the close solitude, and she came out again
+and climbed to the top of the dungeon tower, where the little plot of
+cabbages had been converted into a tiny flower garden, and the roses
+were all in bloom.
+
+With the rising of her pity had come the desire to see Gianluca and talk
+with him. She could not tell why she wished it so much, after having
+felt so horribly indifferent at first, but the wish was there, and like
+all her wishes, now, it must be satisfied without delay. She was
+supremely powerful in her little mountain town, and on the whole she was
+using her power very wisely. But her dominant character was rapidly
+growing despotic, and it irritated her strangely to want anything which
+she could not have. She had almost forgotten that society had any
+general claims upon people who chance to belong to it, and the sudden
+recollection that if she went down to Naples, she could not go and see
+Gianluca, even under his father's and mother's roof, and talk with him
+if she pleased, was indescribably offensive to her over-grown sense of
+independence. Nor could she invite herself to Avellino to pay a visit to
+Gianluca's mother. She understood enough of the customs of the world
+with which she had really lived so little, to know that such a thing was
+impossible.
+
+If she could not see him in Naples and could not go to see him at his
+father's place, he must come to Muro. It flashed upon her that she had a
+right to ask the whole Della Spina family to spend a week with her if
+she chose. They might think it extraordinary if they pleased--it would
+be an invitation, after all, and the worst that could happen would be
+that the old Duchessa might refuse it. But Veronica never anticipated
+refusals.
+
+As for Gianluca, if he were well enough to be taken to Avellino, he
+could be brought to Muro. A journey by carriage was no more tiring than
+one by railway, and the change and excitement would perhaps do him good.
+The more she thought of the possibility of her plan as compared with the
+impracticable nature of any other which suggested itself, the more she
+looked forward with pleasure to seeing him--and the more clearly it
+seemed to her an act of kindness to give him an opportunity of seeing
+her.
+
+And between her reflexions, strengthening her intention and hastening
+her action, there returned the real and deep sorrow she felt at the
+thought of losing her best friend, and the genuine pity she now felt for
+him, apart from the selfish consideration which had come first.
+
+In the singular and anomalous position she had created for herself,
+there was no one whom she could consult. As for asking Don Teodoro's
+opinion, it never entered her head, for it would have been impossible to
+do so without confiding to him the nature of her friendship with
+Gianluca. She would not do that now. She had first told Bianca Corleone
+frankly enough of the exchange of letters, but she herself had not then
+known what that secret friendship was to mean in her life, nor how she
+and Gianluca would almost conceal it from each other. Besides, she was
+accustomed now to impose her will upon the old priest as she imposed it
+upon every one in her surroundings. When she asked his advice, it was
+about matters of expediency, and that happened every day, but she would
+not have thought of taking counsel with him about any action which
+concerned herself. If society chanced to be in opposition to her,
+society must either give way or make the best of it, or break with her.
+But it was certainly within the bounds of social tradition and custom
+that she should ask such of her friends as she chose, to stay with her
+under her own roof.
+
+One small practical difficulty met her, and it was characteristic of her
+that it was the only one to which she paid any attention after she had
+made up her mind. She could have found fifty rooms for guests in the
+castle, but there were certainly not three which were now sufficiently
+furnished to be habitable as bedrooms. She had changed the face of the
+town in three months, but she had not at all improved her own
+establishment. There were foresters and men occupied upon the estates
+who came and went as their work required, and there were generally four
+or five of them in the house; but she was served by women, and there was
+not a man-servant in the place. She had only five horses in her stable.
+She glanced at the black frock she wore and smiled, realizing for the
+first time what Elettra had meant by protesting against her wearing it
+any longer.
+
+But none of the details were of a nature to check such a woman in
+anything she really wished. If she chose to be waited on by women and to
+wear old clothes, that was her affair and concerned no one else. As for
+a little furniture more or less, she could get all she wanted from
+Naples in three or four days.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+Veronica had little doubt but that her invitation would be accepted by
+the Della Spina. Had she been as worldly wise, as she was practical in
+most things, she would have had no doubts at all, though she would have
+hesitated long before writing to the Duchessa. For, of two things, one
+or the other must happen. Gianluca must either die, or not die; in the
+first case the least which his family could do would be to give him the
+opportunity of seeing the woman he loved, before his death, and, in the
+second, such an invitation on Veronica's part was almost equivalent to
+consenting to marry him if he recovered. To every one except Veronica
+herself, the marriage would have seemed in every way as desirable as any
+that could be proposed to her, both for herself and for Gianluca.
+
+Her invitation was received with mingled astonishment and delight and
+was duly communicated to Gianluca himself. Veronica had written to him
+at the same time, and he had already read her letter telling him of her
+plan, when his father and mother entered the room where he was lying
+near his open window, towards evening. They were good people, and
+simple, according to their lights, and they were devotedly attached to
+their eldest son. The love of Italians for their children often goes to
+lengths which would amaze northern people. It may be that where there
+are few love-matches, as in the old Italian society, the natural ties of
+blood are stronger than in countries where men leave everything for the
+women they love.
+
+The Duchessa's chief preoccupation and anxiety concerned her son's
+strength to bear the journey. From day to day the family had been on the
+point of moving to Avellino, and the departure had been put off because
+Gianluca's condition seemed altogether too precarious. It would be an
+even more serious matter to convey him safely to Muro; and between her
+extreme anxiety for his health, and her wish that he might be able to
+go, the Duchessa was almost distracted. But neither she nor her husband
+knew that the doctors despaired of his life. The truth had been kept
+from them, and Taquisara had extracted it from one of the physicians
+with considerable difficulty, having more than half guessed it during
+the past two months.
+
+At the mere suggestion of going to Muro, Gianluca had revived, reading
+Veronica's letter alone to himself in his room. When he heard that the
+invitation had actually come, he seemed suddenly so much better that
+the tears started to the old Duca's weak eyes.
+
+"We must go," said the old gentleman to his wife, as they left Gianluca
+to consult together. "What is the use of denying it? It is passion. If
+he does not marry that girl, he will die of it."
+
+"Of course she means to marry him," answered the Duchessa, her voice
+tremulous with nervous delight. "It is not imaginable that she should
+ask us to visit her, unless she means that she has changed her mind! It
+would be an outrage--an insult--it would be nothing short of an
+abominable action--I would strangle her with these hands!"
+
+The prematurely old woman shook her weak fingers in the air, and her
+passionate love for her son lent her feeble features the momentary
+dignity of righteous anger.
+
+"I should hardly doubt that she would marry him after this," said the
+Duca, thoughtfully. "And besides--where could she find a better husband?
+It is passion that has made him ill."
+
+But it was not. In what they said of Veronica's probable intention they
+were not altogether wrong, however, from their point of view. They were
+in complete ignorance of the long-continued correspondence between her
+and Gianluca, and had they known of it, they could not possibly have
+understood her way of looking at the matter. Such a character as hers
+was altogether beyond their comprehension, and they practically knew
+nothing of the circumstances that had lately developed it so quickly. As
+for her mode of life, they believed, as most people did, that she had a
+companion in the person of an elderly gentlewoman whom she had chosen
+for the purpose among her distant relations.
+
+Even Taquisara thought substantially as they did, and he was a man
+singularly regardless of conventions. It was true that he was almost as
+ignorant of the state of affairs as Gianluca's father and mother. After
+the first exchange of letters Gianluca had grown suddenly reticent. So
+long as Veronica had seemed altogether beyond his reach he had not
+hesitated to confide in the brave and honourable man who was such a
+devoted friend to him; but as soon as he began to feel himself growing
+intimate with Veronica, he ceased to speak of her except in general
+terms. Taquisara, if he had ever felt the need of confidence, would have
+stopped at the same point, or earlier, and he understood, and did not
+press Gianluca with questions. The latter had said that from time to
+time Donna Veronica had been kind enough to write to him--but that was
+all, and he never said it again. When the Sicilian heard of the
+invitation to Muro, however, he felt that he had a right to express
+himself, since the matter was an open one and concerned the whole
+family. He felt, too, an immense satisfaction in having produced so
+great a result by his letter.
+
+He had written to Veronica what the doctor had told him about the
+general verdict after the last consultation. For himself, his faith in
+doctors was not by any means blind, and he was not without some hope
+that Gianluca might recover. At all events, it was his duty to cheer the
+man as far as he could, and he imagined nothing more likely to produce a
+good effect than the now reasonable suggestion that Veronica might
+possibly change her mind.
+
+"Of course," he said to Gianluca, "the whole situation is extraordinary
+beyond anything I ever knew. But since Donna Veronica has left her aunt,
+no one can dispute her right to do as she pleases. An invitation to you
+and your family means a reopening of the question of the marriage. There
+can be no doubt of that. In my opinion, she has reconsidered the matter
+and means to accept you, after all."
+
+Gianluca smiled, and his sunken eyes brightened. But he would not admit
+that he really had any hopes.
+
+"I wish I were as sanguine as you," he answered.
+
+"If you had my temperament, you would not be where you are, my dear
+friend," replied Taquisara, with a dry laugh. "I look at the world
+differently. My life may not be worth much, but it is mine, and I would
+not let a man take it from me with his hands, nor a woman with her
+eyes--without fighting for it, if I had the chance."
+
+"How can a man fight against a woman?" laughed Gianluca, for he was very
+happy.
+
+"You fight a man by facing him, and a woman by turning your back on
+her," said Taquisara. "There are more women in the world than there are
+men to love them, after all. For one that will not have you, there are
+three who will. Take one of the three."
+
+"What do you know about it? You always say that you were never really in
+love. How can you tell what you would do?"
+
+"I suppose I cannot be quite sure. But then--the thing is ridiculous! A
+man must be half a poet, he must have sensibilities, ideals, visions, a
+nervous heart, an exaggerating eye and a mind sensitized like a
+photographer's plate to receive impressions! Do you see me provided with
+all that stuff?"
+
+He laughed again, somewhat intentionally, for he meant to amuse
+Gianluca.
+
+"Nor myself either," answered the latter. "I am much simpler than you
+imagine."
+
+"Are you? So much the better. But it makes very little difference, since
+you are to be happy, after all. Seriously, I do not believe that this
+invitation can mean anything else. If it does--if she is not in
+earnest--" he checked himself.
+
+Gianluca looked at him and did not understand his expression.
+
+"What were you going to say?" asked the younger man, with some
+curiosity.
+
+"Then take one of the other three!" said Taquisara, roughly, and he rose
+from his seat and walked to the window.
+
+The Duchessa's answer to Veronica was dignified and friendly. After
+expressing her cordial thanks for the invitation, she went on to say
+that besides the pleasure it would give her and her son to spend a few
+days under Veronica's hospitable roof, she was too well acquainted by
+hearsay with the splendid climate and situation of Muro to refuse an
+offer, by accepting which she might contribute much to Gianluca's
+recovery, and she went on to speak of the high mountain air and the
+sunshine of the Basilicata. There was truth in what she said, of course,
+and she was too proud not to make the most of it, entirely passing over
+more personal matters in order to give it the greatest possible
+prominence. As for Taquisara, though she guessed that he was almost
+indispensable to Gianluca in Naples, she made no mention of him. It
+would have been easy for her to suggest that he also might be invited,
+but she suspected that her son could do without him well enough when
+privileged to see Veronica every day; moreover, he would be in the way,
+and would probably himself fall in love with his young hostess, who, in
+her turn, might take a sudden fancy to the handsome Sicilian.
+
+It was not until the things which Veronica hastily ordered from Naples
+arrived in huge carts from Eboli that she began to reflect seriously
+upon what she had done under a sudden impulse. The Duchessa wrote that
+she should require four or five days to reach Muro, by easy stages, and
+there was plenty of time to make preparations for receiving the party.
+After the letter had come, Veronica spoke to Don Teodoro, who had
+noticed her extreme preoccupation and was wondering what could have
+happened.
+
+"I think I understand," he said, looking at her quietly. "It is
+right--you are young, but the years pass very quickly."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Veronica, whose sad face still puzzled him.
+
+"What can their coming mean?" he asked, in reply, with a smile.
+
+"What? It is I who do not understand--or you--or both of us. Don
+Gianluca and I are friends. He is very, very ill. The doctors say that
+he cannot live many months, and unless I see him now, I shall never see
+him again."
+
+The old priest gazed at her in distressed surprise, and for a long time
+he found nothing to say. Veronica remained silent, scarcely conscious of
+his presence, leaning back in her chair, with folded hands and sorrowful
+eyes. The thought that Gianluca was to die was becoming more and more
+unceasingly painful, day by day. The fact that he wrote regularly to
+her, and yet never spoke of his condition, made it worse; for it proved
+to her that he could be brave rather than knowingly increase her
+anxiety, and the suffering of a brave man gets more true sympathy from
+women than the cruel death of many cowards.
+
+"I think you are very rash," said Don Teodoro, gravely, breaking the
+silence at last.
+
+Veronica turned upon him instantly, with wide and gleaming eyes, amazed
+at the slightest sign of opposition, criticism, or advice.
+
+"Rash!" she exclaimed. "Why? Have I not the right to ask whom I please,
+and will, to stay under my own roof? Who has authority over me, to say
+that I shall have this one for a friend, or that one, old or young? Am I
+a free woman, or a schoolgirl, or a puppet doll, to which the world can
+tie strings to make me dance to its silly music? Rash! What rashness is
+there in asking my friend and his father and mother here? My dear Don
+Teodoro, you will be telling me before long that I should take some
+broken-down old lady for a companion!"
+
+"I have sometimes wondered that you do not send for one of your
+relations," said the priest, who, mild as he was, could not easily be
+daunted when he believed himself right.
+
+"I will make my house a refuge, or a hospital if need be, for our poor
+people," answered Veronica, "but not for my relations, whom I have never
+seen. I send them money sometimes, but they shall not come here to beg.
+That would be too much. I had enough of those I knew. I am willing to
+feed anything that needs food except vultures. I have chosen to live
+alone, and alone I will live. The world may scream itself mad and crack
+with horror at my doings, if it is so sensitive. It cannot hurt me, and
+if I choose to shut my gates, it cannot get in. Besides, they are
+coming, the Duca, the Duchessa, and Don Gianluca, and that ends the
+matter."
+
+"Nevertheless--" began Don Teodoro, still obstinately unwilling to
+retract his word.
+
+"Dear friend," interrupted Veronica, with sudden gentleness, for she was
+fond of him, "I like you very much. I respect you immensely. I could not
+do half I am doing without you. But you do not quite understand me. I am
+sorry that you should think me rash, if the idea of rashness is
+unpleasant to you--I will make any other concession in reason rather
+than quarrel with you. But please do not argue with me when I have made
+up my mind. I am quite sure that I shall have my own way in the end,
+and when the end comes, you will be very glad that you could not hinder
+me, because I am altogether right. Now we understand each other, do we
+not?"
+
+Don Teodoro could not help smiling in a hopeless sort of way, and he
+lifted his hands a moment, spreading out the palms as though to express
+that he cleared his conscience of all possible responsibility. So they
+parted good friends, without further words.
+
+But when Veronica was alone, she began to realize that Don Teodoro was
+not so altogether in the wrong as she believed herself to be in the
+right. People might certainly be found whom she could not class with the
+world she so frankly despised, and who would say that if Gianluca
+recovered she should marry him, after extending such an invitation to
+him and his people, and that, if she did not, she would deserve to be
+called a heartless flirt--from their point of view. Gianluca's father
+and mother might say so.
+
+He himself, at least, must know her better than that, she thought. And
+then, there was the terrible earnestness of Taquisara's letter, the
+sober statement of his best friend, next to herself, and a statement
+which it must have cost the man something to make, since it was
+necessarily accompanied by an apology. After all, though he had
+insulted her, she liked Taquisara for the whole-hearted way in which he
+took Gianluca's part in everything. There was that statement, and she
+felt that it was a true one. Gianluca was more to her than any one she
+knew, in a way which no one could understand, and she had a right to see
+him before he died. If, by any happy chance, he should live, people
+might perhaps talk. She should not care, for she should have done right.
+That was the way in which she accounted to herself for her action; but
+the consciousness that Don Teodoro was not quite wrong was there. She
+remembered it afterwards, when the fatality that was quietly lying in
+wait for her raised its head from ambush and stared her in the face. But
+then, at the first beginning, she was angry with the old priest for
+trying to oppose her.
+
+There was not more than time to finish the preparations, after all, for
+she received a note from the Duchessa, written from Eboli, saying that
+they would arrive a day earlier than they had expected, as the heat in
+the plain was intense, and they were anxious to get Gianluca to a cooler
+region of the mountains as soon as possible. Veronica had written, too,
+placing the castle at Laviano at their disposal, as a resting-place, so
+as to break the journey more easily for the invalid, and she sent men
+over to see that all was in order and to take a few necessary things for
+the guests.
+
+It was a sort of caravan that at last halted before the fountain of
+Muro, at the entrance to the village. Veronica had been warned of their
+near approach, and was there to meet them, with Don Teodoro by her side.
+
+First came the Duca and Duchessa together in a huge carriage drawn by
+four horses, with three servants, two men and a maid. Veronica could not
+see past the vehicle, as it blocked the way, and she stopped beside it
+to greet the couple.
+
+"My dear child!" cried the Duchessa. "We shall never forget your
+kindness, and all the trouble you have taken! Gianluca is in the next
+carriage. I think you have saved his life!"
+
+There was a sort of inoffensive motherliness in her tone which surprised
+Veronica--a suggestion of possession that irritated her. But she smiled,
+said a few words, and ordered the carriage to move on,--an operation
+which, though difficult in such a narrow way, was possible since she had
+improved and paved the streets. A couple of her men walked before the
+horses to clear the way of the women and children and the few men who
+were not away at work, for the news of the arrival had spread, and the
+people flocked together to see whether the visitors would bear
+comparison with their princess.
+
+As the carriage rolled into the street, Veronica went up to meet the
+next. It was a very long landau, and in it Gianluca was almost lying
+down, his pale face and golden beard in strong relief against a dark
+brown silk cushion. To Veronica's amazement, Taquisara sat beside him,
+calmly smoking one of those long black cigars which he preferred to all
+others. He threw it away, when he saw her. She shook hands frankly with
+Gianluca.
+
+"I am very glad you are here," she said kindly and cheerfully. "You will
+get well here. How do you do?" she added, turning to Taquisara as
+naturally as though she had expected him, for she supposed that there
+must have been some misunderstanding.
+
+He explained his coming in a few words, before Gianluca could finish the
+sentence he began.
+
+"He hates strangers," he said, "and I came up with him, to be of use on
+the journey. I am going back at once."
+
+"You will not go back this evening, at all events," answered Veronica,
+with a little hospitable smile.
+
+She was grateful to him for Gianluca's sake, both for his letter and for
+having accompanied his friend. For what had gone before, he had
+apologized and was forgiven.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he answered. "I think I shall be obliged to go back
+this afternoon."
+
+"Has he any engagement that obliges him to return?" asked Veronica of
+Gianluca.
+
+As she turned to him, she met his deep blue eyes, fixed on her face
+with a strange look, half happy, half hungry, half appealing.
+
+"He has no engagement that I know of," he answered.
+
+"Then you will stay," she said to Taquisara. "Go on!" she added to the
+coachman, without giving time for any further answer.
+
+There was a note in her short speech which the Sicilian had never heard
+before then. It was the tone of command--not of the drill-sergeant, but
+of the conqueror. He almost laughed to himself as the carriage moved
+slowly on, while Veronica and Don Teodoro followed on foot.
+
+"You must stay, if she wishes it," said Gianluca, in a low voice.
+
+"I am not used to being ordered to quarters in that way," answered
+Taquisara, smiling in genuine amusement. "I can be of no more use to you
+when I have got you up to your room, and I think I shall go back as I
+intended."
+
+"I would not, if I were you. After all, it is a hospitable invitation,
+and you cannot invent any reasonable excuse for refusing to stay at
+least one night. The horses are worn out, too. You have no pretext."
+
+"Perhaps not. I will see."
+
+The carriages moved at a foot pace. As Veronica walked along she nodded
+and spoke to many of the poor people, who drew back into their doors
+from the narrow way. Behind her came two more carriages laden with
+luggage, and one of her own men on horseback closed the procession. By
+urging his stout beast up all the short cuts, he had accomplished the
+feat of keeping up with the vehicles.
+
+When they reached the castle gate, the Della Spina's two men-servants
+jumped down and got a sort of sedan chair from amongst the luggage, but
+Gianluca would not have it.
+
+"I can walk to-day," he said. "Help me, Taquisara. Have you got my
+stick? Thank you. No, do not lift me. Let me get out alone! I am sure
+that I can do it."
+
+Pale as he was, he blushed with annoyance at his feeble state, when he
+saw Veronica's anxious eyes watching his movements.
+
+It was early yet, but the August sun sank behind the lofty heights to
+westward, as he set his foot upon the ground. Taquisara's arm was around
+him, and the Sicilian's face was quiet and unconcerned, but Veronica saw
+the straining of the brown hand that supported the tall invalid, and she
+knew that Gianluca could not have stood alone. But he would not let the
+servants come near him. The old Duca and his wife touched his sleeve and
+asked him nervous, futile questions, and begged him to allow himself to
+be carried. Veronica stood in front, ready to lead the way.
+
+"No, no!" exclaimed Gianluca, answering his mother. "You see. I can walk
+very well to-day, with scarcely any help."
+
+But his first step was unsteady, and the next was slow. Veronica heard
+the uncertain footfall on the flagstones and turned again.
+
+"Will you take my arm on this side?" she asked gently, placing herself
+on his right, away from Taquisara.
+
+He hesitated, smiled, and then laid his hand upon her arm, and she and
+Taquisara led him in together, the old couple following, and looking at
+each other in silence from time to time. Through the dark, inclined way,
+they all went up slowly into the courtyard and under the low door, dark
+even on that summer's afternoon, slowly, stopping at every dozen paces
+and then moving on again. Taquisara almost carrying his friend with his
+right arm, while Veronica steadied him on the other side, till they came
+out at last into a room which had been furnished as a sort of
+sitting-room and library, especially for Gianluca's use. He sank down
+into a deep chair facing the window, and drew breath, as he sought
+Veronica's eyes.
+
+"You are very kind," he said faintly. "But you see how much better I
+am," he added at once, in a more cheerful tone. "It is the first walk I
+have taken for several days, Donna Veronica. I have really been ill, you
+know."
+
+"I know you have," she said, and she turned quickly away, for she felt
+more than she cared to show just then.
+
+Possibly the Duca and his wife were too much preoccupied about their
+son's condition to think seriously of what was taking place, but it was
+strange enough in its way, and Taquisara thought so as he looked on, and
+wondered what Neapolitan society would think if it could stand, as one
+man, in his place, and see with his eyes, knowing what he knew. But he
+had not much time for reflexion. Veronica's women had brought Gianluca
+wine, and his mother was giving him certain drops of a stimulant in a
+glass of fragrant old malvoisie, while his father bent over him
+anxiously, still asking useless questions. Veronica beckoned Taquisara
+aside, and they stood together behind Gianluca's chair.
+
+"That is his bedroom," she said, pointing to one of the doors, "and that
+is yours," she added, pointing to one opposite.
+
+"Mine? But you did not expect me--"
+
+"I naturally supposed that he would have a man with him, to take care of
+him," she answered. "If you are really his friend as you say you are,
+stay with him. You see that he cannot get about without you. If either
+of you need anything, ask for it," she added, before he could reply.
+
+"I would rather not stay," said Taquisara, looking gravely into her
+face.
+
+"Have you a good reason? What is it?" Her features hardened a little.
+
+"I cannot tell you my reason. It concerns myself."
+
+"Then try and forget yourself, for you are needed here," she answered
+almost sternly.
+
+For two or three seconds they looked into each other's eyes, neither
+yielding. Then Taquisara gave way.
+
+"I will stay," he said shortly, and he turned his face from her with a
+sort of effort. "Is there a doctor here?" he asked, looking towards the
+group of persons who stood around Gianluca.
+
+"Yes--a good one, whom I have lately brought. Shall I send for him? Do
+you think he is worse?" She asked the question anxiously.
+
+"No. No doctors can do him any good--but if he should be suddenly worse,
+after the long journey--"
+
+"Do you think it is likely?" asked Veronica, interrupting him in a tone
+of increasing anxiety.
+
+He turned to her again, and watched her face, curiously, wondering
+whether she loved the man, after all.
+
+"I hope not," he answered quietly. "But it was a fatiguing drive, and he
+hardly slept at all last night. I suppose that the excitement kept him
+awake. He should rest as soon as possible."
+
+"Very well," said Veronica. "I will take his father and mother away and
+give them tea. Stay with him and make him lie down and sleep, if
+possible. Dinner is at half-past seven. Let me know if we are to wait
+for him."
+
+She went to Gianluca's side and spoke to the Duchessa.
+
+"Shall I show you your rooms?" she asked. "Then we can have tea. Don
+Gianluca must be tired, and he should have quiet and rest before
+dinner--or if he prefers it, we will not expect him to-night. Sleep
+first, and decide afterwards," she added, addressing Gianluca himself,
+and her tone grew suddenly gentle as she spoke to him.
+
+"You are very wise for your age, my dear child!" answered the Duchessa,
+in the motherly tone that irritated Veronica.
+
+The old gentleman nodded gravely, being quite too much preoccupied and
+surprised to judge at all of his hostess's wisdom, but delighted with
+the effect which the change of air seemed already to have produced upon
+Gianluca.
+
+They went away together, leaving the invalid with Taquisara and his own
+servant. Veronica led them to her favourite room, then showed them their
+own, and went back to wait for them, while Elettra brought the tea, just
+as she had done of old in the Palazzo Macomer. Veronica watched her
+while she was arranging the tea-table. Elettra, who rarely spoke
+unbidden, ventured to make a remark.
+
+"Their Excellencies will be surprised at being waited on by women," she
+said; for though she hated all men-servants, she had pride for the great
+old house her fathers had served.
+
+"They will be surprised at so many things that they will not notice it,"
+answered her mistress, thoughtfully.
+
+Elettra glanced at her quickly, but said nothing and went away, leaving
+her alone. She sat quite still, and did not move until the old couple
+came back, ten minutes later. She moved chairs forward for them to sit
+in, and poured out a cup of tea for each. Meanwhile they all three made
+little idle observations about the weather and the place.
+
+The Duchessa, holding her cup in her hand, looked at the door from time
+to time, as though expecting some one to come in. At last she could
+contain her curiosity no longer.
+
+"And where is your companion, my dear?" she asked suddenly.
+
+"In the imagination of society, Duchessa," answered Veronica. "I have
+none. I live alone."
+
+The Duchessa almost dropped her cup.
+
+"Alone?" she cried, in amazement. "You live alone? In such a place as
+this!" She could not believe her ears.
+
+"Yes," said Veronica, smiling. "Does it seem so very terrible to you? I
+live alone--and I am waited on only by women. I daresay that surprises
+you, too."
+
+"Alone?" The Duca had got his breath, and sat open-mouthed, holding his
+tea-cup low between his knees, in both hands. "Alone! At your age! A
+young girl! But the world--society? What will it think?"
+
+"Unless it thinks as I do, I do not care to know," answered Veronica,
+indifferently. "Let me give you some bread and butter, Duca."
+
+"Bread and butter? No--no thank you--no--I--I am very much astonished! I
+am stupefied! It is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of!"
+
+"Of course everybody thinks that you have an elderly companion--" chimed
+in the Duchessa.
+
+"One of your Spanish relations," said the Duca, with anxious eyes.
+"Surely, she was here--"
+
+"And is away just now," suggested his wife. "That accounts for--"
+
+"Not at all," said Veronica, almost laughing. "She never existed. I came
+here alone, I live here alone, and I mean to live here alone as long as
+I please. The world may say what it pleases. I shall be three-and-twenty
+years of age on my next birthday. Ask Don Teodoro whether I am not able
+to take care of myself--and of Muro, too, for that matter!"
+
+"Who is Don Teodoro?" asked the Duchessa, nervously, and still
+altogether horrified.
+
+"The parish priest," said Veronica. "A very learned and charitable old
+man. He dines with me every evening."
+
+"Then," replied the Duchessa, with a beginning of relief, "then you, and
+your good priest, and your woman, make a sort of--of what shall I say--a
+sort of little religious community here? Is that it?"
+
+"We are not irreligious," Veronica replied, still at the point of
+laughter. "Most of us hear mass every morning--the church is close by
+the gate, on the other side of the great tower, you know--and we do not
+eat meat on fast days--"
+
+"Yes, yes, I understand!" interrupted the Duchessa, grasping at any
+straw by which she could drag the extraordinary young princess within
+conceivable distance of what she herself considered socially proper.
+"And you spend your time in good works, in the village, of course, and
+in edifying conversation with Don Teodoro. Yes--I see! As you put it at
+first, it was a little startling, but I understand it better now. You
+understand it, Pompeo, do you not? It is quite clear, now."
+
+The Duca rejoiced in the baptismal name of Pompey, like many of his
+class in the south, whereas the name of Caesar is more common about
+Rome.
+
+"I have at least done something for the village," said Veronica. "It was
+in a bad state when I came here."
+
+"It is a very clean village," observed the Duca, whose eyes still had a
+puzzled look in them, though his jaw had slowly recovered from its fall
+of amazement. "I saw no pigs in the streets. One generally sees a great
+many pigs in these mountain towns."
+
+"I turned them out," said Veronica.
+
+She went on to give a little account of the improvements she had
+introduced, not in vanity, but to keep them from returning to the
+subject of her living alone. They listened with profound interest, and
+with almost as much astonishment as they had shown at first.
+
+"But do you find no opposition here?" asked the Duca. "You seem to do
+just as you please."
+
+"Of course," answered Veronica. "The place belongs to me. Why should I
+not do as I like? There are a few tolerably well-to-do people here, who
+own a little property. Everything I do is to their advantage as well as
+to that of the poor peasants, so that they all side with me. No," she
+concluded thoughtfully, "I do not think that any one would oppose me in
+Muro. But if any one should, I have decided what to do!"
+
+"And what should you do?" asked the Duchessa, rather nervously.
+
+"I should send the whole family to America, with a little money in
+their pockets. They are always glad to emigrate, and the opposition
+would be quite out of the way in the Argentine Republic." Veronica
+laughed quietly.
+
+When the Duca and his wife went to dress for dinner they had some very
+disturbing ideas concerning the character of the young Princess of
+Acireale.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+Taquisara, almost for the first time in his life, did not know how to
+act, but in accepting Veronica's invitation he felt that he could really
+be of use to Gianluca, and he saw how unbendingly determined the young
+princess was that he should stay. He had very good reasons for not
+staying, but they were of such a nature that he could not explain them
+to her. He had the power, he thought, to leave Muro at a moment's
+notice, and in yielding to Veronica's insistence, he was only
+submitting, as a gentleman should, in small matters, rather than engage
+in a contest of will with a woman. Yet he knew the matter was neither
+small nor indifferent, when he gave way to her, and afterwards.
+
+Gianluca appeared at the dinner hour and reached the dining-room with
+his friend's help. He was placed on Veronica's left, in consideration of
+being an invalid, though Taquisara should have been there, according to
+Italian laws of precedence. Veronica had insisted that Don Teodoro
+should come, at all events on this first evening. She did not choose
+that the learned old priest should be merely the companion of her
+loneliness; and besides, she knew that his presence would probably
+prevent the Duca and Duchessa from returning to the question of her
+solitary mode of life. She was also willing to let them see that the
+humble curate was a man of the world.
+
+It was a day of surprises for the old couple, and their manners were
+hard put to it to conceal their astonishment at the way in which
+Veronica dined. They were, indeed, accustomed to a singular simplicity
+in the country, and to country dishes, as almost all the more
+old-fashioned Italians are, but in the whole course of their highly and
+rigidly aristocratic lives they had never been waited on by two women in
+plain black frocks and white aprons. The Duca, indeed, found some
+consolation in the delicious mountain trout, the tender lamb, the
+perfect salad, and the fine old malvoisie, for he liked good things and
+appreciated them; but the Duchessa's nature was more austerely
+indifferent to the taste of what she ate, while her love of established
+law insisted with equal austerity that any food, good or bad, should be
+brought before her in a certain way, by a certain number of men, arrayed
+in coats of a certain cut, and shaven till their faces shone like
+marble. In a measure, it was a slight upon her dignity, she thought,
+that Veronica should let her be served by waitresses. On the other hand,
+she reflected upon the conversation which had taken place at tea, and
+was forced to admit that she had then discovered the only theory on
+which she could accept Veronica's anomalous position, and
+conscientiously remain in the house. Either she must look upon the
+castle of Muro and its inhabitants as a sort of semi-religious community
+of women, or else, in her duty to the world, and the station to which
+she had always belonged, she must raise her voice in protests, loud and
+many. For many reasons, she did not wish to insist too much, and she did
+her best to seem indifferent, keeping her arguments before her mind
+while she ate. The chief of them was, indeed, that she clung desperately
+to the hope of a marriage; but in her heart there was something else,
+and she knew that she was afraid of Veronica. It seemed ridiculous, but
+it was true. And her husband was even more afraid of the dominating
+young princess than she. They never acknowledged the fact to each other,
+when they exchanged moralities, and discussed Veronica, but each was
+afraid, and suspected the other of similar cowardice.
+
+The Duchessa did her best to seem indifferent; but now and then, when
+one of the women changed her plate, or poured something into her glass,
+she could not help slowly looking round, with an air of bewilderment, as
+though expecting to see a man in livery at her elbow.
+
+As for Gianluca, Veronica had described in her letters the way in which
+she lived; and Taquisara's face more often betrayed amusement than
+surprise at what he saw in the world. On the present occasion, having
+accepted the situation into which his affection for his friend had led
+him, he had accepted it altogether, and behaved as though he were at a
+dinner party in Naples, cheerfully making conversation, telling amazing
+stories of brigandage in Sicily, asking Veronica questions about the
+surrounding country, and giving such scraps of news about mutual friends
+as his letters had recently brought him.
+
+Veronica had never seen the man under such circumstances, and she was
+surprised by his readiness and by his ability to help her in a rather
+difficult situation. He said nothing which she could compare with what
+Gianluca wrote. He never spoke of himself, and she did not afterwards
+remember that he had made any very brilliant observation; and yet, when
+dinner was over, she wished to hear him talk more, just as she had once
+longed to hear him say again the things he had said to her for
+Gianluca's sake in Bianca's garden. She had never met any one who seemed
+to have such a decided personality, without the slightest apparent
+desire to assert it. Instinctively, as women know such things, she felt
+that he was a very manly man, very simple and brave, and vain, if at
+all, with the sort of vanity which well becomes a soldierly
+character--the little touch of willing recklessness that easily stirs
+woman's admiration. What women hate most, next to cowardice, is,
+perhaps, the caution of the very experienced brave man--and they hate it
+all the more because they cannot despise it with any show of reason.
+
+Gianluca was silently happy, perfectly satisfied to hear Veronica's
+voice, to watch the face he loved, and to feel that between her and him
+there was something which no one knew. When they spoke, there was a
+little constraint on both sides; but when they were silent, the bond was
+instantly renewed. In silence and in imagination, they were writing to
+each other the impressions of which they would not speak. Gianluca was
+telling her how grateful he was to her for insisting that Taquisara
+should stay, after all, and was pointing out to her that his friend was
+bravely bearing the burden of a conversation which kept his father and
+mother from prosing about the necessity of a companion for Veronica.
+Veronica was replying that Taquisara was more agreeable than she had
+expected, but that if he had been as silent as the Sphinx, or as noisy
+as Alexander the Coppersmith, she would have pressed him to stay because
+he was her friend's friend. There was a good deal about Taquisara in
+their imaginary correspondence.
+
+But both felt a little more constraint, when they talked, than they had
+ever felt before, for both knew that on the morrow, or on the next day,
+at the latest, they were sure to be alone together,--quite alone,--for
+the first time; and they wondered whether the curious duality of their
+acquaintance and intimacy by word and by letter could be maintained
+hereafter, or whether it would suddenly resolve itself into a unity in
+the shape of a friendship in which they should speak to each other as
+they wrote.
+
+They knew that something of the sort must happen. The Duca and his wife
+would certainly not stand sentry from morning till night over the young
+people, when they themselves so ardently desired the marriage; and
+Taquisara was not the man to be in the way when he was not wanted. It
+would be in Veronica's power to put off the meeting, if she chose to do
+so; but she knew, and Gianluca guessed, that she would not. Whatever
+society might say about it, she had assumed the position and the
+independence of a married woman, and had gone further than married women
+of her age would generally have the courage to go. To hesitate now, and
+to draw back from the possibility of being left alone with any one of
+her guests, would be absurd. She would not seek the interview, nor she
+would not do anything to avoid it. But she did not wish to be forced
+into the necessity of talking alone with Taquisara, if it could be
+helped. She was sure, though she had forgiven him, and liked him better
+than before, that she should certainly quarrel with him, though she did
+not know why there should be any further disagreement between them.
+
+Possibly she recognized in him a will less despotic than her own, but
+quite as unbending when he chose to exercise it. The certainty of strong
+opposition, which is fear in cowards, becomes combativeness in brave
+people, and the fighting instinct takes the place of the inclination to
+run away. But Veronica had no further reason for quarrelling with
+Taquisara; and because she liked him, she determined to avoid him as
+much as possible, lest at the very first point of difference in
+conversation there should be war between them about some insignificant
+matter perfectly indifferent to both.
+
+Her guests went to bed early. While Gianluca was before her, Veronica
+had not retained the impression she had received from Taquisara, that
+her friend was a doomed man. Her own vitality lent the sure certainty of
+life, in her imagination, to those about her. He was faint and tired
+from the journey, of course, but he was by no means the utterly helpless
+invalid she had expected to see, and she had not believed, so long as
+she could watch him, that he was in mortal danger. But when she was in
+her own room, his face came back to her, a pale shade out of dark
+shadow, and she saw the hollows about his deep blue eyes, his thin,
+bluish temples, his transparent features, and his emaciated throat, that
+seemed to have fallen away under his white ears. She was so suddenly
+and violently disturbed by the recollection that she spoke to Elettra of
+him. The woman had seen him go by when the party had arrived.
+
+"Do you think that Don Gianluca looks very ill?" Veronica asked.
+
+"Excellency--" the maid hesitated. "I wish that all may live--but he
+seems a dead man."
+
+Veronica said nothing, but it was long before she got to sleep that
+night, and the vision of his face came again and again to her, pale,
+haggard, haunting, distressing her exceedingly. She rose even earlier
+than usual.
+
+She did not mean that the presence of her guests should interfere with
+what had now become a connected work, to interrupt which would be an
+injury to the whole and an injustice to the people who had learned to
+expect it of her, looking for more, as she gave them more, and turning
+to her in every difficulty. But for the arrival of the party on the
+previous afternoon she would have gone down to an outlying farm in the
+valley, where the farmhouse needed repairs and there was a question of
+cutting down a number of olive trees so old that they hardly bore any
+fruit. She had ordered her mare at half-past seven in the morning, and
+she rode down the long, winding road, saw, judged, and gave orders,
+galloped most of the way up, and exchanged her riding-habit for her
+morning frock before the clock struck ten.
+
+One after another, her guests appeared, and everything happened as she
+had foreseen. The old couple said that they were accustomed to take a
+little walk before the midday meal, for the sake of their appetite;
+Taquisara disappeared when he had helped Gianluca to a big chair in a
+balcony, in the shade, outside the drawing-room, and Gianluca was left
+alone with her, as she had expected. She established herself opposite to
+him, for the balcony was so narrow that two chairs could not be placed
+upon it side by side.
+
+It was a magnificent summer's day, one of those days in which the whole
+glory of the south fills heaven and earth and air, and the stupendous
+tide of universal life pours into every sense, to very overflowing, as
+the ocean fills its world-wide bed. And the world was ripe and ripening,
+the corn and wheat, and olive and vine, and fruit and flower and tree,
+from the rich valley below, up the rough hills, as far as sun and soil
+and rain could draw the dress of beauty over the mountains' grand bare
+strength. Down there, in the vast garden, the hot air quivered with
+sheer living; above, the solemn peaks faced God in the still sun. The
+breath of the high breeze, between earth and heaven, blew upon
+Veronica's cheek.
+
+They looked at each other and sat silent, and looked again and smiled,
+both happy in those ever-written, never-spoken thoughts which were
+theirs together, both fearing speech as a common thing which must jar
+and shake them rudely back to their other selves, which were formal, and
+constrained, and not at all intimate.
+
+Gianluca lay quite still in his deep chair, his white hands motionless
+upon the edge of the grey shawl which was thrown over his knees.
+Suddenly, Veronica, sitting close and opposite to him, bent far forward
+and gently laid her hand upon one of his. She smiled.
+
+"I am glad that you are here," she said simply, looking into his face.
+
+His own brightened, and the blue eyes grew dark and tender, while her
+hand lingered a second.
+
+"How good you are to me!" he exclaimed, in a low voice. "How endlessly
+good!"
+
+She was still smiling as she withdrew her hand and leaned back in her
+chair once more. A little pause followed, during which both were quite
+happy, in different ways--he, perhaps, in all ways at once, and she,
+because she felt she had broken through something like a sheet of ice by
+a mere gesture and half a dozen words, when it had seemed so hard to do.
+
+"No," she said thoughtfully, at last. "It is not a question of goodness.
+I am natural--that is all. I do not believe that many people are. And we
+had got into an absurd position, you and I!" She laughed, looking at
+him. "We could write, but we could not speak. We each knew what the
+other was thinking of, and yet, somehow, neither of us could say what we
+thought. Was it not as I say?"
+
+"Yes." Gianluca laughed, too, very faintly because he was weak, though
+he was so happy.
+
+"It could not last," Veronica continued, "and I am glad it is over. For
+it is over, is it not? We can talk quite frankly now. Last night, for
+instance. I am sure I know what you were thinking about."
+
+"About Taquisara? At dinner?"
+
+"Of course. He is so much more agreeable than I expected, and I am so
+glad that I made him stay. And then, last night, too--did you see how
+your mother looked at the serving-woman, expecting to see the butler? It
+was so natural. It was just what I should have done in her place, and I
+could hardly keep from laughing."
+
+"My dear old mother is not used to such surprises," answered Gianluca.
+"Of course I saw it, and knew that you did."
+
+"Yes--but do you not think that I am quite right?" asked Veronica, her
+tone changing suddenly as she seemed to appeal to him for support--she,
+who needed so little from anybody.
+
+"Of course you are," he answered promptly.
+
+He felt unaccountably flattered and pleased by the mere fact of her
+asking him the question. He felt instinctively that she had never asked
+any one's opinion about her conduct, and that she really desired his
+approval. She, on her part, was perhaps glad to speak freely at last
+about the position she had assumed. If he had called her rash just then,
+she would not have answered him as she had answered Don Teodoro when he
+had used the same word.
+
+"You see," she said, "I am not like other women. I was brought up in a
+convent, like most of them, but the rest of my life has been quite
+different. Well--you know, if any one does. I used to write you all
+about what I meant to do while I was still living with Bianca, and you
+know that I have begun to carry out most of my ideas. Yesterday
+afternoon, while you were resting, your father and mother and I had tea
+together, and she found out for the first time that I had no companion.
+You should have seen her face! And then, when I tried to explain, she
+got the impression at once that I meant to live here in a sort of
+amateur convent, surrounded by women. I think she rather liked the idea.
+It seemed to settle her disturbed prejudices a little. Of course--it
+must seem stranger to people who all live in the same way as she does.
+Oh! how glad I am that we can talk about it, you and I!"
+
+Again she laughed happily. To Gianluca, as his eyes met hers, it seemed
+as though a great wave of the huge, exuberant life that filled the
+full-blossoming world that day had rolled up out of the broad valley to
+his feet and were lifting him and penetrating him and sweeping its hot
+tide through the ebb of his failing blood.
+
+"Yes," he answered her. "To be able to talk at last--at last, after so
+much waiting, that was only half talking."
+
+He sighed gently, and his hand stroked the grey shawl on his knees,
+smoothing it first in one way and then backwards in the other. She
+watched him, and thought that she had never seen a hand so thin.
+
+"We shall never go back to the old way, shall we?" he asked, before she
+spoke again.
+
+"I hope not!" she answered. "It was so absurd, sometimes. Do you
+remember at Bianca's house--"
+
+"The night before you left? When I forgot my stick?"
+
+"Yes; but before that. You seemed to think that there was to be no more
+writing because I was coming here."
+
+"Of course--that is, I supposed that it might make a difference--"
+
+"And then you asked me. You should have seen your face! I can remember
+it now. It changed all at once."
+
+"It is no wonder. You changed the whole future with one word. You
+seemed really to want my letters much more than I had imagined that you
+did."
+
+As by the quick lifting of a dividing veil, all the awkward little
+incidents and memories of constraint had suddenly become parts of the
+much larger and more pleasant recollection of their semi-secret
+intimacy, and in blending with the broader picture the little ones
+somehow ceased to have anything disagreeable in them, and instead, there
+was a touch of humour and a suggestion of laughter each time that they
+compared what they had said and done with what they had written and
+felt. It was no wonder that the fascination grew on Gianluca with every
+dancing beat of the happy man's pulse.
+
+They talked on, and in the way she talked Veronica showed that while her
+character had grown in three-quarters of a year from girlhood to
+womanhood, and from womanhood to the half-imperial masculinity of a
+dictatress, her heart was younger than the youngest, was as unsuspicious
+of itself as a child's, ready to give itself in an innocent generosity
+which could not conceive that giving might mean being taken, or be as
+like it as to deceive such a willing, love-sick man as poor Gianluca.
+She did not say that she loved him, she did not love him, she did not
+wish him to think that she could love him. Why should he think that she
+did? Surely, that he loved her, or thought so, could make no difference.
+
+She was so very young, under her armour of despotism, that she might
+almost have loved him, as she had all but loved Bosio, had there been
+anything to love. But there was not. Gianluca was a shadow, an
+unmaterial being, a thought--anything ethereal, but not a man.
+
+The dream-driven ghost of her dead betrothed was ten times more human
+and real than Gianluca was to her now, with his white angel's face and
+misty hands that seemed to hang weightless in the air before him when he
+moved them. There was more of living humanity in the fast fainting echo
+of Bosio's last words to her than in Gianluca's clear, sweet tones. If
+he should tell her that he loved her now, she should perhaps not even
+blush; for his whole being was sifted and refined and distilled, as the
+very spirit of star dust, in which there was nothing left of that sweet,
+earthly living, breathing, dying, loving flesh and blood without which
+love itself is but a scholar's word, and passion means but a vague,
+spiritual suffering, in which there is neither hope of joy to come nor
+memory of any past.
+
+Yet Gianluca breathed, and was a human man, and loved her, and he would
+have been strangely surprised had he suddenly seen into her heart and
+understood that she looked upon him as though he were a being out of
+another world. The moment when she had first laid her hand upon his had
+been the supremest of his life yet lived, and all the moments since had
+been as supremely happy. It was something which he had not dared to
+hope--to hear her speaking as though there had never been that veil
+between them, against which he had so often struggled, to feel her warm
+touch, to see the happy light in her young eyes as she sat there looking
+at him, to be sure at last, beyond the half assurance of uncertain
+written words.
+
+But he was wise, and he bridled back the words that most readily of all
+others would have come to his lips. Perhaps even in the midst of his new
+happiness, there was the unacknowledged fear of evil chance if he should
+speak too soon and put the beautiful gold to the touch while the magic
+transmutation was still so dazzlingly fresh. The present was so
+immeasurably better than the past, so near a perfection of its own, that
+he could wait in it a while before he opened wide his arms to take in
+the very whole of happiness itself, wherewith the beautiful future stood
+full laden before him.
+
+As they talked, they went over and over much that they had written to
+each other during the long months of their correspondence, and at last
+Veronica came back to the question she had at first asked him.
+
+"So you think that I am sensible in living as I do," she said. "I am
+glad. I value your opinion, you know."
+
+She had perhaps never said as much as that to any one.
+
+"You have made it what it is," he answered.
+
+"How do you mean?" she asked quickly.
+
+"You cannot do wrong," he replied, with his faint, far-off laugh. "If I
+had read in a book, of an imaginary person, all that you have written me
+of yourself, I should have said that most of it was absolutely
+impossible, or wildly rash, or foolishly unwise. You know how we are all
+brought up. We are nursed in the arms of tradition, we are fed on ideas
+of custom--we are taken to walk, as children, by incarnate prejudice for
+a nursery maid, and taught to see things that used to be, where modern
+things are. What can you expect? We have not much originality by the
+time we grow up."
+
+"Yes--you know that I was educated in a convent."
+
+"That is better than being educated at home by a priest." Gianluca
+smiled again. "Besides, you are different. That is why I say that if I
+have an opinion, you have made it for me. You are doing all those things
+which I could not have believed in a book, and they are turning out
+well. If society could see you here, it would not find it necessary to
+invent a duenna to chaperon you. But it is not everybody who could do
+what you have done, and succeed. I do not wonder that my mother is
+astonished, and my father, too. But at the same time, since you can do
+such things, it seems to me that you would have made a great mistake in
+doing anything else--as great a mistake as Julius Caesar would have made
+if he had chosen to remain a fashionable lawyer instead of mixing in
+politics, or Achilles, if he had taken a necklace or a bracelet and left
+the sword in Ulysses' basket. You would have found your mythical duenna
+a nuisance in real life."
+
+Veronica laughed.
+
+"At the end of the first week I should have locked her up in the dungeon
+tower, to get rid of her," she said.
+
+"I have no doubt that you would, and your people would have thought it
+the most natural thing in the world. You could do anything you pleased
+in this place, I fancy. They would not think it strange if you tried and
+condemned a cheating steward and had him executed in that gloomy
+courtyard we passed through when we came in yesterday."
+
+"The law might find fault with my vivacity," said Veronica. "But my
+people would say that I had done right if the man had really cheated
+them. It is quite true, I think. I could do almost anything here. I had
+a man locked up in the municipal prison the other day for forty-eight
+hours, because he was tipsy and swore at Don Teodoro in the street. Of
+course, it is nominally the syndic who does that sort of thing; but he
+belongs to me, like everything else here, and I do as I please, just as
+my grandfather did, when he really had power of life and death in Muro,
+including the privilege of torture. The first article mentioned in the
+old inventory was forty palms of stout rope for giving the cord, as they
+called it. They did it under the main gate,--that is why it came
+first,--and they used to pull them up to the vault and then drop them
+with a jerk to within two feet of the ground. The ring is still there,
+just inside the gate."
+
+"My mother's uncle--the old Marchese di Rionero--once hanged a ruffian
+for mutilating one of his horses out of spite. And they say that Italy
+has not progressed! There is no hanging, not even for murder, nowadays."
+
+"Yes," answered Veronica, thoughtfully, "we have progressed, in a way.
+That is our trouble--we have progressed too fast and improved too
+little, I think."
+
+"That sounds paradoxical."
+
+"Oh no! It is common sense, as I mean it. Progress costs money,
+improvement brings it. Progress means wearing clothes like other people,
+having splendid cities like other nations, keeping up armies and navies
+like other great powers. Improvement means helping poor people to earn
+more wages and to live better--giving them a possibility of happiness,
+instead of taking the little they have in order to give ourselves the
+appearance of greatness. That is why I say that in Italy we have too
+much progress and too little improvement."
+
+"Yes--how well you put it!" Gianluca looked at her with quick
+admiration.
+
+"Do I? It is because you understand easily. Should you call me
+patriotic? I think I am. I am an Italian before anything else, before
+being a Serra, a woman, a member of society--anything! I feel as though
+I should like to give my heart for my people and my life for our
+country, if it would do any good. Of course, if it really came to making
+any great sacrifice, I suppose my courage would shrivel up and I should
+behave just like any one else."
+
+"No--you would not," said Gianluca, gravely. "There have been women--the
+great Countess, and Saint Catherine of Siena--"
+
+"Yes!" Veronica laughed. "And there were also my good ancestors, who
+tore Italy to pieces, joined hands with German Emperors, upset Popes,
+seized everything they could lay hands upon, and turned the country into
+a sort of perpetual gladiator's show. That is a proud and promising
+inheritance for an aspiring patriot, is it not? The less you and I talk
+of patriotism, the better--seeing what our people have done in history
+to make patriotism necessary in our time."
+
+"Perhaps so. Doing is better than talking, and you have begun by doing
+good and trying to make people happy. You have succeeded in one case,
+already."
+
+She looked at him with a glance of inquiry.
+
+"What case?" she asked.
+
+"I mean myself--of course. You have made me perfectly happy to-day."
+
+"I am glad," she answered. "I wish you to be always happy."
+
+She spoke thoughtfully, gravely, and gently, and then turned from him a
+little, and looked through the iron railing of the balcony, down at the
+deep distance of the valley. She was wondering, and justly, whether
+during the past hour she had not made a mistake, very cruel to him, in
+breaking down all at once the barrier of excessive formality which
+hitherto had stood between them when they met. Words rose to her lips,
+which with the utmost gentleness should quickly undeceive him, if he had
+been deceived; but when she looked at him and saw his happy, appealing
+eyes and his transparent face, her courage was not ready. Perhaps he was
+dying, as she had been told. She turned again and watched the misty
+depths.
+
+"Don Gianluca--" she began, with a little hesitation. But as she spoke
+there was a footfall in the embrasure.
+
+"What were you going to say?" asked Gianluca, knowing from her tone that
+she had meant to speak of some grave matter.
+
+"Nothing!" she answered with a little sharpness. "Pray take my chair,
+Duchessa," she said, turning to the good lady, who had come slowly
+forward till she stood with her head just out in the air. "It is time
+for luncheon," she added, as she made the Duchessa sit down, nodded
+quickly to Gianluca, and went in.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+The regularity of the existence at Muro pleased the old couple, and
+contributed in a measure to allay their perpetual anxiety about their
+son and to calm their uneasiness about the whole situation. They were
+both too wise and too courteous to press the question of marriage upon
+Veronica under the present circumstances, but they did not feel that
+they were led too far by their affection for Gianluca when they told
+each other, in the privacy of the Duchessa's dressing-room, that after
+what Veronica had now done she was bound, in common self-respect, to
+marry him. That he would recover from his illness, they never doubted;
+for, as has been said, the truth had been kept from them, in so far as
+the prognostications of doctors could be looked upon as worthy of
+belief. He had certainly been much better since they had brought him to
+Muro, and they secretly wished that they might all stay where they were
+until the autumn.
+
+On that first day, Veronica had been on the point of speaking very
+plainly to Gianluca, intending to tell him once again that he must not
+be deceived, that she should never marry him, and indeed had no
+intention of ever marrying at all. But she had been interrupted by the
+coming of the Duchessa; and, as she had not spoken at the first
+opportunity, she did not purposely create another at once. She was not
+skilful in such situations. When her directness came into conflict with
+her sense of delicacy, one or the other gave way; for in serious matters
+she instinctively hated complicated methods, and though she could be
+hard and perhaps unnecessarily cruel, yet she would at any time rather
+be over-kind than take refuge in the compromises of what most people
+call tact. The weaknesses of the strong are like the crevasses in a
+glacier; they have a general direction, but it is impossible to know
+certainly beforehand the precise depth or importance of any one of them,
+nor how far it may lead. The little strengths of weak people are like
+jagged rocks jutting up in shifting sands and changing tide, the more
+dangerous to the unwary because they are few and unexpected, and no one
+can tell where they lie, just below the surface. Many a brave enterprise
+has gone to pieces upon the stupid, unforeseen obstinacy of a despised
+weakling.
+
+Veronica, like other people, even the very strongest, had weak points,
+or moments when some points of her character were weak, which comes to
+the same thing in result. She dreaded to hurt Gianluca, and since the
+occasion had passed when she might have made everything clear, and
+would have done so, she found it hard to decide how to act.
+
+Taquisara had told her that the man was dying. If that were true, it
+could make no difference, whether he believed that she would marry him
+or not. The thought of his death was terribly painful, and she thrust it
+from her; for she was not heartless, and in the days that followed their
+conversation on the balcony, her affection grew to be as real and deep
+as it could possibly have been for a most dearly loved brother. For her,
+there had been none of those ties in which such affections live and grow
+and become parts of life itself. Fatherless, motherless, without
+brother, or sisters, the girl had grown up not knowing what she had to
+give, and giving scarcely anything at all of what was best in her. She
+was reticent and proud, and could never be attached to many people.
+Bianca had been her friend, in a way, but Bianca's life was mysterious
+to her, and Pietro Ghisleri had come between the two.
+
+And now, through many months, by the intimacy of correspondence which
+had suddenly turned to an intimacy of real converse in which she had not
+been disappointed, she had grown--for it was a true growth--to the power
+of a most devoted friendship, capable of great and lasting sacrifice. It
+was a friendship, too, that was, as it were, pre-sanctified by the
+rising shadow of near death, fore-hallowed by the sure suffering of its
+coming end. It would be hard indeed to cut from Gianluca's heart the one
+flower of his loving belief.
+
+But then, when she sat beside him on the balcony in the shady hours, and
+the great wave of life came up to her from the southern valley, she
+could not believe that he was really to die. And then, she hesitated,
+and she wished to do what was right and true by him, pain or no pain.
+Sometimes there was a little colour in his face, and often the deep blue
+light came into his beautiful eyes. He was to live, then, and she felt
+that she was cruel, and base, and cowardly to let his thoughts of her
+grow.
+
+Those were the good days. There were worse ones, when he lay like a dead
+angel before her, and only in his eyes there was a little life. Then
+more than once, she gave him the magic of her touch, laid one hand
+softly upon one of his, or smoothed his silk pillow and arranged the
+shawl about him. Perhaps she was wrong to do such things, just because
+she was so young; but when she did them he breathed freely again, and
+the faint false dawn of a new day that might never brighten rose in the
+alabaster cheeks.
+
+Once, Taquisara, standing on the great round bastion below, unnoticed by
+them both under the spreading vine, turned suddenly by chance and looked
+up through the leaves, and he saw how Veronica was bending forward
+towards his friend and touching one hand of his--for it was not far to
+see. Taquisara did not look again, but presently he went in, and there
+was less of unconcern in his handsome bronze face that day, and his dark
+eyes were harder and colder than they were wont to be.
+
+Veronica liked him, and forgot altogether the unpleasantness which there
+had been between them. He was as gentle as a woman with Gianluca. He
+seemed to be strong, too, for on the bad days when his friend could not
+walk at all, he carried him like a child from room to room. Veronica saw
+how necessary he was, and he knew it himself, for after his first
+protest he made no attempt to go away. Gianluca, naturally sensitive and
+abnormally impressionable, hated to be touched by servants, as some
+invalids do, and Taquisara's constant presence saved him much suffering,
+none the less acute because it was imaginary.
+
+At luncheon, at dinner, whenever the Duca and Duchessa were present,
+Taquisara did his best to help the conversation and always seemed
+cheerful, unconcerned, and hopeful for Gianluca's recovery. It was on
+rare occasions, when Veronica found herself alone with him for a few
+moments, or together with him and Don Teodoro, that the man appeared to
+her silent, morose, and sometimes almost ill-tempered. He did not again
+speak rudely in her presence, but she guessed that the unspoken thought
+was constantly in his mind--that, and something else which she could not
+understand. Daily, hourly perhaps, he was inwardly accusing her of
+playing with Gianluca, as he had expressed it.
+
+Strange to say, she began to care for his opinion and to wish that he
+could understand her better; and because he could not, she resented the
+opinion which she thought he held of her. When she was with him, she
+felt something which she did not recognize in herself--a desire to
+attack him, for no reason whatever, and at the same time a wish that he
+might like her better. Even in her childhood she had never cared very
+much whether people liked her or not.
+
+One day it rained,--for it was in August,--and from time to time the
+enormous thunder-storms rolled up out of the valley and crashed and
+split themselves upon the sharp peak above Muro, and rumbled away to
+northward up the pass, while the deluge of cold rain descended in their
+track.
+
+It was afternoon. The windows were all shut, the Duca and Duchessa had
+disappeared for their daily sleep, as they always did, and Veronica and
+Taquisara kept Gianluca company in one of the big rooms. He was better
+than usual, but Veronica found it hard to amuse him, and tried to
+imagine some diversion for the long hours.
+
+"Can you fence?" she asked suddenly, of Taquisara.
+
+"Of course--after a fashion," he answered, with a laugh of surprise at
+the question, which seemed absurd to him.
+
+"Will you fence with me?"
+
+"I? Oh--I remember hearing that you took fencing lessons at the Princess
+Corleone's. If it amuses you, of course I will."
+
+"I have all my things here," said Veronica. "There are any number of
+foils, and I got two men's jackets and masks, just in the hope that they
+might be wanted some day. I am very fond of it, you know. We can move
+the table away from the middle of the room--it will be something to do.
+It is dull, when it rains, and Don Gianluca can watch us and tell me
+when I make mistakes. It will amuse us all."
+
+"Gianluca could give us both lessons," said Taquisara. "He fences
+beautifully."
+
+"Ah--if I only could!" exclaimed Gianluca, in a tone that hurt Veronica.
+
+The invalid looked down at his long, thin legs and emaciated hands, and
+he tried to smile bravely.
+
+"You would rather not see us--we will not do it," said Veronica, gently,
+bending a little to see his face, as she stood near him.
+
+"Oh no! Please do!" he answered. "I have never seen a woman fence--I
+cannot imagine how you could. It would amuse me very much. Please send
+for the foils."
+
+The things were brought, the tables and chairs were moved away,
+Taquisara drew Gianluca's big easy-chair, with him in it, towards the
+window, and Veronica put on her leathern jacket and glove, and stood
+holding her mask in her hand, as she bent over the foils looking for her
+favourite one. She found it, and came forward, carrying both mask and
+foil, while Taquisara got ready. Gianluca looked at her and smiled.
+There was something defiant and warlike about the small, well-poised
+head, the aquiline features, and the bright eyes. With one foot a little
+in advance she stood up, straight and daring, in the middle of the room,
+waiting for her adversary. The grey light of the rainy afternoon gleamed
+coldly along the steel.
+
+Taquisara took the one of the two masks which fitted him the better, and
+picked out a foil. He did not think of putting on a jacket to fence with
+a woman.
+
+"No jacket?" asked Veronica, with a short laugh, as she slipped her mask
+over her head.
+
+He laughed, too, but said nothing, considering it as a matter of course,
+and stepping into position he stood before Veronica with lowered foil.
+She raised hers, saluted him, and then Gianluca, as though they were to
+fence a bout for a prize. Taquisara did the same.
+
+"Oh!" he exclaimed, in surprise, as both were about to fall into guard.
+"Are you left-handed?"
+
+"Yes--did you never notice it?" She laughed again, as her foil played
+upon his for a second. "Now then!" she cried.
+
+Taquisara was not an exceptionally good fencer, and had spent very
+little time in the study of the art. He was bold, quick, and somewhat
+reckless, and in two or three slight affairs in which, like most men of
+his society in the south, he had been unavoidably engaged, he had
+wounded his adversaries rather by surprise and indifference to his own
+safety, than by any superior skill. He had expected that Veronica would
+make a few conventional passes and parries, and grow tired of the sport
+in a few minutes. To his astonishment, he saw in a moment that she could
+really fence fairly well, while the fact of being left-handed gave her a
+great advantage, even against an otherwise superior adversary. He had of
+course intended and expected only to defend himself without ever really
+attacking, as men generally do when they fence with women. But he was
+mistaken in supposing that this was what Veronica wanted.
+
+She tried his wrist once or twice and played a little, feeling her way.
+Then there was a quick flash, a disengagement, a feint, a lunge that was
+like a man's, and as her long left arm shot out like lightning, her foil
+bent nearly double, with the button full on his breast. She stepped
+back, and he heard her short laugh again, followed by Gianluca's, and
+he laughed, too, somewhat disconcerted.
+
+"I took you by surprise," she said. "You had better put on a jacket--it
+is just as well."
+
+"Oh no--but you can really fence! I had no idea. I shall be more
+careful. Try again!"
+
+They engaged once more, and Taquisara was cautious. His defence did not
+compare with his attack, and he could not take the offensive in earnest.
+He parried her quick thrusts with some difficulty, and presently she
+touched him on the arm.
+
+"Why do you not attack me?" she asked impatiently. "You need not be
+afraid--I can defend myself pretty well."
+
+He did not altogether like to lunge as though he were fencing with a
+man, and his hesitation gave her a still greater advantage. She felt an
+unaccountable delight in attacking him furiously, and in her excitement
+she uttered sharp little cries when she touched him, as she did more
+than once. She felt that she had never fenced so well in her life, and
+she was glad that she should do better against him than against Bianca
+or her fencing-master. There was a strange delight in it. He, on his
+part, did his best at defence, but he could not bring himself to a real
+attack. He tried to disarm her, by sheer strength, but he failed
+utterly. Her wrist was more supple than the steel foil itself, and she
+was left-handed.
+
+It was rather wild play, but it was amusing to watch, and Gianluca
+looked on with delighted appreciation. She was so slight and graceful,
+and yet so quick and strong. As for Taquisara, he was glad when she drew
+back, took her mask from her face, and said that it was enough.
+
+"You ought to know that you can hardly ever disarm a left-handed person
+when you are engaged in carte," observed Gianluca, looking at Taquisara.
+
+Though he had never been in a quarrel in his life, he had been
+passionately fond of fencing, and in his real interest in what he had
+seen he did not even think of complimenting Veronica. She was keen
+enough to feel that his scientific remark was better than any flattery.
+
+Taquisara shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
+
+"Donna Veronica fences like a man," he said. "And I am not very good at
+it either. She would have killed me two or three times!"
+
+"You never really attacked me," she answered, flushed and happy. "By the
+by," she added, seeing that he was looking over the other foils, "one of
+those is sharp--the one with the green hilt--be careful not to take it
+by mistake if we fence again, for you might really kill me."
+
+"How did it come here?" he asked, taking up the one she indicated.
+
+"It was lying about at the Princess Corleone's. I took it by mistake, I
+suppose, with my things. I believe that Signor Ghisleri brought it to
+show her, one day. I think he said it had been used."
+
+She threw off her leathern jacket, and tossed the other things aside.
+
+"Let us fence a little every day," she said. "That is, if you will
+really fence, instead of playing with me."
+
+"I am certainly not able to play with you," he answered. "And I shall
+wear a jacket next time."
+
+"You are wonderful," said Gianluca, still watching her with admiration.
+
+The storm had passed, and the rain was over. Before long the Duca and
+Duchessa would appear for tea, and Taquisara said that he would go for a
+walk. Veronica rang and had the room set in order again, and sat down by
+Gianluca. The exercise had done her good, and she still felt that fierce
+little satisfaction at having fought with Taquisara. There was an
+unwonted colour in her cheeks, and her brown hair had been somewhat
+ruffled by the mask. Her hands were warm, and tingled, and she felt
+intensely alive. It had been pleasant, for once, to put out all her
+energy in something like a real struggle.
+
+Little by little her sensations wore off, and she was quite quiet again,
+but the recollection of them remained and made her wish to renew them
+every day.
+
+"You are wonderful," Gianluca repeated, when they had talked of other
+things for a while. "Taquisara is not a fencing-master, but he is as
+good as most men, and better than many. You gave him trouble, I could
+see. It was all he could do to defend himself against you, sometimes."
+
+"Did it amuse you to watch us?" asked Veronica.
+
+"Yes--of course!"
+
+"Then we will do it again, every day. I am glad of a little practice,
+and it will not hurt him either. A descendant of Tancred ought to fence
+better than that! I suppose that your mother would be horrified."
+
+"She might be a little surprised."
+
+"Shall we tell her?"
+
+"Not unless we are obliged to," answered Gianluca, with a smile. "We do
+not tell her everything."
+
+"No," said Veronica, acquiescing rather thoughtfully.
+
+Gianluca was in that state in which there is a delight in having little,
+harmless secrets from the world in common with one much loved, but not
+yet wholly won, and each small secrecy was to the bond that held him
+what the silver threads are to Damascus steel, welded into the whole
+that the blade may bend double without breaking. But to Veronica it was
+different; for she guessed instinctively how he looked upon such
+trifles, and she did not wish them to multiply unduly. Each one was a
+sting to her conscience.
+
+"I hate secrets," she said gravely, after a pause. "Let us tell her. It
+is much better."
+
+"As you like," answered Gianluca, with a little disappointment, which
+she did not fail to notice.
+
+"You think that she will be scandalized? And that we shall not fence any
+more? Why? I am sure, if she could see us, she would think it very
+proper. It is not improper, is it?" She asked the last question
+anxiously, as though in an after-thought.
+
+"Improper? No! How absurd! If everything that is unusual were to be
+considered improper, our writing to each other would be improper, too.
+But we kept it a secret, all the same. I cannot imagine talking about
+it. For me--everything that belongs to you is a secret."
+
+Veronica leaned back in her chair, and her face grew still more grave,
+but she did not answer. The struggle had begun again, and the
+hesitation. Should she tell him, once for all, that she really never
+could love him? Should she leave him the illusion he loved so well? Was
+he to die, or was he to live? The answer to each question seemed to lie
+in the query of the next. He spoke again before she broke the silence.
+
+"Do you not feel that--a little--not as I do, but just a little, about
+me?" he asked in a voice not timid, but very soft.
+
+"No," she answered sadly. "Not as you do. No; it is quite different."
+
+She did not look at him at once, for she was almost afraid to meet his
+eyes, but she heard him catch his breath, as though to strangle a sigh
+by main force, and his head moved on the cushion.
+
+She had begun to hurt him.
+
+"I thought you might," he said, faintly but steadily. "I almost thought
+you did."
+
+"No," she repeated, with ever-increasing gentleness. "No. Do not think
+that--please do not!"
+
+He said nothing, but again he moved his head. Then, seeing that the
+moment had come, and that she must face it with truth or lie to him
+while he lived, she turned her face bravely towards him, to tell him all
+her heart.
+
+"You are the only real friend I have in the world," she said. "But I can
+never love you--never, Gianluca--never. It is not in me. There is no one
+in the whole world for whom I care as I do for you. I cannot imagine
+anything that I could not do for your sake. But not love--not love. That
+is something else. I do not know what it means. You could make me
+understand anything but that. Oh--why must I say it, when it is so hard
+to say?"
+
+His face seemed cut, as a mask of pain, in alabaster, and the appealing,
+hungry eyes waited for each fresh hurt.
+
+"You made me think that you might love me," he said, the slow words
+hardly forming themselves on his dry lips.
+
+"Then God forgive me!" she cried, clasping her hands and bending her
+face over them. "And yet--and yet I knew it. I felt it. I meant to tell
+you, if you did not know! I only wished not to hurt you--it is so hard
+to say."
+
+"Yes," he answered, scarcely above his breath. "I see it is," he added,
+after a long time.
+
+As he lay in the deep chair, he turned his face from her, on the
+cushion, till she could not see his eyes, and then was quite still. It
+would have been easier if he had reproached her vehemently, if he had
+turned and tried to win her again, and poured out his heart full of
+love. But he lay there, like a dead angel, with his face turned from
+her, hardly breathing.
+
+"I have been cowardly, and base, and bad!" she cried, bending over her
+clasped hands, and speaking to herself. "I should have said it--I said
+it long ago, at Bianca's, and I should have said it again--but I was
+afraid--afraid--oh! afraid!"
+
+Her low voice trembled in anger against herself, in pity for him, in
+sorrow for them both. She looked up and saw him still motionless. It
+was as though she had killed him and were sitting beside his body. But
+he still lived, and might live. For one instant she felt a mad impulse
+to give him her life, to marry him, not loving him, to save him if she
+could, to atone for what she had done. But a horrible under-thought told
+her that it would be but gambling for her freedom with his existence,
+and that if she did it, she should do it because she felt that he must
+surely die. Even her simplicity seemed gone. She looked again; he had
+not moved.
+
+She threw herself upon her knees, beside his great chair, her clasped
+hands on his thin shoulder, in a sort of agony of despair.
+
+"Speak to me!" she cried. "Forgive me--say that I have not killed
+you--Gianluca--dear!"
+
+One shadowy hand of his was lifted, and touched hers. It was as cold as
+though it had lain dead in the dew. She took it quickly and held it
+fast. He did not turn his head.
+
+"It has been my life," he said, "my whole life."
+
+He did not try to draw away his hand, but let her hold it, if she would.
+There was still magic in her touch.
+
+"Forgive me!" she repeated more softly, and her cheek touched the arm of
+the chair. "Forgive me!"
+
+At last he turned his face very wearily and slowly on the brown silk
+cushion, and looked at her bent head. Instinctively she raised her hot
+eyes.
+
+"Forgive you?" He spoke very sorrowfully. "I love you. What is there to
+forgive? It is not your fault--"
+
+"It is--it is!" she cried, speaking into his sad eyes for forgiveness,
+with all her soul.
+
+"I shall die--but it is not your fault," he answered, and he sank back,
+for he had raised himself a little. "It is not your fault," he repeated.
+"Do not ask me to forgive you. Perhaps I should have lived longer--I do
+not know, for I only lived for you. No--I am quiet now. I can speak
+better than I could. You must not think that you have killed me, if I
+die. Men live through worse, but not men like me, perhaps. Something
+else is killing me slowly, but they will not tell me what it is. Never
+mind. It will do as well without a name, and if I get well, it needs
+none. After all, I am not dead yet, and while I am alive, I can love
+you. You have been all to me. If you had loved me, I should have had
+more than all the world, and that would have been too much. If I
+deceived myself, loving you as I did,--as I do,--it is not your fault,
+Veronica. It is not your fault. There was a time last year, when I would
+have done anything, given everything, life and all, for one of a
+thousand words you have written and said to me since then--when I would
+have committed crimes for the touch of this little hand. Do you see? It
+is all my fault. That is what I wanted you to understand."
+
+He had said all he could, and his breath came with an effort at the
+last. But his lips smiled bravely as he looked at her, still kneeling by
+his side. Then he seemed to realize that she should not be there.
+
+"Get up, dear," he said, with failing voice. "You must not kneel--some
+one might come--they would think--that you meant--something."
+
+His lids quivered and closed, and his lips trembled oddly. She felt his
+hand relax, and she thought that he was gone. Instantly she sprang to
+her feet beside him, and lifted his head, her face full of the horror
+that goes before the wave of pain for those one loves. But he had not
+even fainted. He opened his eyes, and smiled, and tried to speak again,
+but could not.
+
+Veronica's lips moved, too, as she stood there, supporting him a little
+with her arm and stiffened with terror for his life. But she could not
+speak either. She watched his face with most intense anxiety. Again and
+again, he opened his eyes, and saw her, and he felt her arm under him.
+
+"It is nothing," he said suddenly. "I was a little faint."
+
+She drew away her arm with a deep breath of relief, and he sighed when
+it was gone. But neither of them spoke. Veronica rang, and sent for his
+favourite wine, and he drank a little of it. Then she sat down beside
+him, where she had sat before, and the room was very still.
+
+It was hot, too, for no one had opened the window since it had stopped
+raining. Veronica rose and undid the fastenings and threw back the
+glass, and the cool air rushed in, laden with the sweet smell of the wet
+earth. As she came back, she saw that his eyes followed all her
+movements, gravely, as a sick child watches its nurse moving about its
+room. There was no reproach in their look, but they were still fixed on
+her, when she sat down again by his side.
+
+"Veronica," said the faint, far voice, presently. "May I ask you one
+question, that I have no right to ask?"
+
+"Anything," she answered. "And you have the right to ask anything."
+
+"No--not this. Do you love another man?"
+
+The still blue eyes widened, in earnestness.
+
+"No, Gianluca. No--by the truth of God--no living man!"
+
+"Nor one dead?" His tone sank almost to a whisper, and still his eyes
+were wide for her answer.
+
+A faint and tender light came into her face, so faint, so far reflected
+from an infinite somewhere, that only such eyes as his could have seen
+it.
+
+"There was Bosio," she said softly. "He spoke to me the night he
+died--I could have married him--I should have loved him--perhaps."
+
+If the little phrases were broken, it was not by hesitation; it seemed
+rather as though what they meant must find each memory to have meaning,
+one by one, and word by word--and finding, wondered at what had once
+been true.
+
+And Gianluca smiled, as he lay still, and the lids of his eyes closed
+peacefully and naturally, opening again with another look. He was too
+weak to be surprised by what he had only vaguely guessed, from some word
+she had let fall, but he knew well enough, from her voice and face, that
+she had never loved Bosio Macomer, nor any other man, dead or living.
+And Hope, that is ever last to leave a breaking heart, nestled back into
+her own sweet place, breathing soft things of love, and life, and golden
+years to be.
+
+"Thank you," he said. "I should not have asked you. It was kind to
+answer."
+
+They did not speak again, and presently the door opened. The old Duca
+held it back with a stately bow, and the Duchessa swept into the room
+with that sort of uncertain swaying motion, which is all that weakness
+leaves of grace. And the Duca shuffled in after her, and closed the door
+most precisely, for he was a precise old man.
+
+"I thought it was time for tea, my dear," said the Duchessa. "We have
+had such a good sleep!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+Though Gianluca had seemed to gain strength during the first week of his
+stay at Muro, he appeared to lose it even more rapidly after that
+memorable afternoon. It was not that he lost heart and control of
+courage; on the contrary, he spoke all at once more hopefully, and grew
+most particular in the carrying out of each detail of the day, precisely
+in the manner prescribed by the doctors. He forced himself to eat, he
+did his best to sleep a certain number of hours, he made Taquisara carry
+him out into the air and back again at fixed times, in order that the
+extreme regularity of his life might help his recovery if possible. But
+all this was of no use. It had seemed inconceivable that he should grow
+more thin, and yet his face and throat and hands shrunk day by day. He
+could not use his legs at all, now, and he told no one that he had
+hardly any sensation in them.
+
+The Duchessa prayed for her son, always in her own room and sometimes in
+the church, whither she went often alone in the afternoon, and sometimes
+accompanied by her husband. She even curtailed her daily siesta in order
+to have more time for prayer. No doubt, she would have given anything
+in the world for Gianluca, but she had very little else to give, beyond
+that sacrifice, which did not seem small or laughable to her. The Duca
+said little, but often shook his head, unexpectedly, and his weak eyes
+were watery. He sometimes walked twenty-five times round the top of the
+big lower bastion, under the vines that grew upon the trellis over it,
+before the midday breakfast, while the Duchessa was at her devotions. At
+every round, when he came to the point fronting the valley he paused a
+moment and repeated very much the same words each time.
+
+"My poor son! My poor Gianluca!" he said, and then shuffled round the
+bastion again.
+
+Taquisara scarcely left the sick man's side except when Gianluca could
+be alone with Veronica. He was evidently very anxious, though his face
+betrayed little of what he felt. He knew it, and was glad that nature
+had given him that bronze-like colour, which could hardly change at all.
+When the whole party were together, he talked; he talked when he was
+alone with Gianluca; but when he was with Gianluca and Veronica he spoke
+in monosyllables. Once she noticed that he was biting his lip nervously,
+just as he turned away his face.
+
+Though Gianluca was worse, without doubt, he insisted that there should
+be no change in his way of spending the day. To amuse him, Veronica and
+Taquisara fenced a little of an afternoon. But the Sicilian had no heart
+in it, and evidently did not care whether Veronica touched him or not,
+and his indifference annoyed her, so that she sometimes worked herself
+into little furies of attack, and he, rather than really attack her in
+return and oppose his strength, broke ground and let himself be driven
+back across the room.
+
+"Some day I shall take the foil with the green hilt," laughed Veronica.
+"Then you will really take the trouble to fight me."
+
+The foil with the green hilt was the sharp one which had got among the
+others by mistake. Taquisara smiled indifferently.
+
+"My life is at your service," he said, in a tone that seemed a little
+sarcastic.
+
+"Keep it for those who need it," she answered, laughing again, and
+glancing at Gianluca.
+
+Her tone was a little scornful, too, and Gianluca watched them both with
+some surprise. Almost any one would have thought that they disliked each
+other, but such a possibility had never struck him before. He would have
+admitted that Veronica might not like Taquisara, but that any one in the
+world should not like Veronica was beyond his comprehension. He spoke to
+his friend about it when they were alone.
+
+"What is the matter between you and Donna Veronica?" he asked that
+evening, before dinner.
+
+"Nothing," answered Taquisara, stopping in his walk. "What do you mean."
+
+"I think you dislike her," said Gianluca.
+
+"I?" The Sicilian's strong voice rang in the room. "No," he added
+quietly, and recovering instantly from his astonishment. "I do not
+dislike her. What makes you think that I do?"
+
+"Little things. You seem so silent and out of temper when she is in the
+room. To-day when she was laughing about the pointed foil you answered
+her sarcastically. Many little things make me think that you do not like
+her."
+
+"You are mistaken," said Taquisara, gravely. "I like Donna Veronica very
+much. Indeed, I always did, ever since I first saw her. I am sorry that
+my manner should have given you a wrong impression. I always feel that I
+am in the way when I am with you two."
+
+"You are never in the way," answered Gianluca.
+
+After that, Taquisara was very careful, but more than ever he did his
+best not to remain as a third when the Duca and Duchessa were away, and
+Veronica and Gianluca could be together. The fencing alone was
+inevitable, and he hated it, though he went through it with a good grace
+almost every day, since Veronica seemed so unreasonably fond of the
+exercise.
+
+She and Gianluca did not refer to what had happened, and to what had
+been said, when she had told him the truth. She, on her part, felt that
+she had done right, and that it was the sort of right which need not be
+done again. But he, poor man, was not so wholly undeceived as she
+thought him to be. Since she loved no one else, he could still hope that
+she might love him.
+
+Yet he felt his life slipping from him, and he made desperate efforts to
+get well, insisting upon every detail of his invalid existence as though
+each several minute of the day had a healing virtue which he must not
+lose. He was sure that his chance of winning the woman he loved lay in
+living to win her, and he grappled his soul to his frail body with every
+thrill of energy that his dying nerve had left, with all the tense moral
+grip that love and despair can give. And yet it seemed hopeless, for his
+strength sank daily. At last he could not even sit up at table, and
+remained lying in his low chair, while the others ate their meals
+hastily in order not to leave him long alone.
+
+The doctor came, a clever young man, whom Veronica had procured for the
+good of the village. He shook his head, though he tried to speak
+cheerfully to Gianluca's father and mother. But he advised them to send
+for the great authority whom they had consulted in Naples, and under
+whom he himself had studied. Veronica spoke with him in an outer room.
+
+"I fear that he cannot live, but I am not infallible," he said.
+
+"How long will he live, if he is going to die?" asked Veronica, pale and
+quiet.
+
+"Do not ask me--it is guess-work," answered the young doctor. "I think
+he may live a fortnight. He is practically paralyzed from his waist
+downwards--it is almost complete. What he eats does not nourish him."
+
+"What has caused this?"
+
+The doctor shrugged his shoulders, smiled faintly, and made a gesture
+which in the south signifies the inevitable.
+
+"It is a decayed race," he said; "a family too old--there is no more
+blood in them--what shall I say?"
+
+"I do not believe that has anything to do with it," replied Veronica,
+rather proudly. "The Serra are as old as they. Did you see that
+gentleman who is Don Gianluca's friend? He is descended from Tancred."
+
+"It is other blood," said the doctor.
+
+He went away, and the great physician who lived in Naples was sent for
+at once. A carriage went down to Eboli to meet him. He came, looked,
+asked questions, and shook his head, very much as his pupil had done. He
+stayed a night, and when it was late, Veronica and Taquisara were alone
+with him. He was a fat man, with enormous shoulders and very short
+legs, and a round face and dreamy eyes set too low for proportion of
+feature. Taquisara thought that he was like a turtle standing on its
+hind flippers, preternaturally endowed with a hemispherical black
+stomach, and a large watch chain; but the idea did not seem comic to
+him, for he was in no humour to be amused at anything.
+
+The professor--for he was one--talked long and learnedly, using a number
+of Latin words with edifying terminations. In spite of this, however, he
+was not without common sense.
+
+"I have known people to recover when they seemed to have no chance at
+all," he said.
+
+"But you do not expect him to live?" asked Taquisara, pressing him.
+
+"It is a desperate case," answered the physician.
+
+Being very fat, and having travelled all day, he went to bed. Veronica
+remained alone in the drawing-room with Taquisara. The latter slowly
+walked up and down between two opposite doors. Veronica kept her seat,
+her head bent, listening to his regular footsteps.
+
+"Donna Veronica--" he stopped.
+
+"Yes," she answered, not looking up, but starting slightly at the sound
+of his voice. "What do you wish to say?"
+
+"You know that I have not always been fortunate in what I have said to
+you, and that makes me hesitate to speak now. But it seems to me that,
+as Gianluca is really in the care of us two--"
+
+"Well?" Still she did not turn to him, though he paused awkwardly, and
+began to walk again.
+
+"Gianluca asked me the other day whether I disliked you," he said.
+
+"Well? Do you?" Her tone was unnaturally cold, even to her own ears.
+
+He stood still on the other side of the table, looking towards her.
+
+"No," he said, as though he were making an effort. "If he asked me the
+question, it must be that I have behaved rudely to you before him. Have
+I?"
+
+"I have not noticed it," answered Veronica, as coldly as before.
+
+"It would certainly not have been intentional, if there had been
+anything to notice. If I speak of it now, it is because Gianluca spoke
+to me, and because, if we are to talk about him, the way must be clear.
+You say that it is? May I go on?"
+
+Veronica did not answer at once. Then she rose slowly, turned, and stood
+before the low, long chimneypiece.
+
+"Why should we talk about him at all?" she asked, at length determining
+what to say. "We shall not agree, and we can only repeat what we have
+both said before now. It can be of no use."
+
+"I have something more to say," replied Taquisara.
+
+"Yes. There may be more to be said, that may be better not said. I know
+what it is. You once accused me of playing with him. You said it rudely
+and roughly, but I have forgiven you for saying it. You would have more
+reason for saying it now than you had then, and I should be less angry.
+You have a better right to speak, and I have less right to defend
+myself. But I will speak for you. I am not afraid."
+
+"No. That is the last thing any one could say of you!"
+
+"Or of you, perhaps," she said, more kindly, and it was the first word
+of appreciation she had ever given him. "We are neither of us cowards.
+That is why I am willing to tell you what I think of myself. It is
+almost what you think of me--that I have done a thousand things which
+might make Don Gianluca, and his father and mother, too, believe that if
+he recovers I mean to marry him. But you think me a heartless woman. I
+am not. There are things which you neither know, nor could understand if
+you knew them. I will ask you only one question. Is there any imaginable
+reason why I should wish to hurt him?"
+
+"None that I can guess," answered Taquisara, looking into her eyes.
+
+"Then you must understand what I have done. Out of too much friendship
+I have made a great mistake. What you can never understand, I suppose,
+is, that I can feel for him what you do--just that, and no more--or more
+of that, perhaps, and nothing else. A woman can be a man's friend, as
+well as a man can. I never played with him--as you call it--though you
+have enough right to say it. I told him from the first that I could
+never marry him. I told him so again on the day when we had first
+fenced, and you went to walk after the rain."
+
+"That is why he has been worse, since then. It began that very evening."
+
+"Yes. I know it. Do you think I do not reproach myself for having gone
+so far that I had to speak? Indeed, indeed, I do, more than you know.
+But what am I to do? He cannot go away, ill as he is. I cannot leave you
+all here. And then, I would not leave him, if I could. He is more to me
+than I can ever tell you--I would give my right hand for his life. Would
+you have me marry him, knowing that I can never love him? Is that what
+you would have me do?"
+
+Taquisara was silent for a moment, looking earnestly at her, and he bit
+his lip a little.
+
+"Yes," he said. "That is what you should do. It is all you can do, to
+try and save his life."
+
+The moment he had spoken he turned from her and began to walk up and
+down again.
+
+"Do you know what you are asking?" Veronica followed him with her eyes.
+
+"It is a sacrifice," he said, pursuing his walk and not glancing at her.
+"It is to give your life for his. I know it. But you can hardly give him
+more than he has given you--or you have taken from him. Yes--I know what
+the doctors say, that it is a disease which is known and understood. No
+doubt it is. But diseases of that sort may remain latent for a lifetime,
+unless something determines them. Until they have gone too far, they may
+be overcome. If he had not lived for weeks in a state of nervous tension
+that would almost make a strong man ill, he would not be in such a
+condition now. If he had never known you, he might have been as well as
+he ever was--he might have been well for twenty or thirty years, before
+it attacked him. It is not all your fault, but a part of it is. Take
+your friendship, and your mistakes, together--your wish that he may
+live, and your responsibility if he dies--two motives are better than
+one, when the one is not strong enough. You have two, and good ones.
+Marry him, Donna Veronica--marry him and save his life, if you can, and
+your own remorse if he dies. Let me go to him now--he is not asleep--let
+me tell him that you have changed your mind, or made up your mind--that
+you love him, after all--"
+
+"Please do not go on," said Veronica, drawing back a little, till she
+leaned against the mantelpiece.
+
+He had placed himself in front of her before he had finished speaking.
+He was excited, vehement, and not eloquent--like a man driven to bay by
+a crowd to argue a question in which he had no conviction, but which
+concerns his life. He stopped speaking when she interrupted him, and he
+seemed to be waiting for her to say more. She had drawn herself up a
+little proudly, with her head high.
+
+"You hurt me," she said, breaking the silence, and hardly knowing why
+she said the words.
+
+"Do you think it costs me nothing?" he asked, in a low voice.
+
+His eyes burned strangely in the lamp-light. But he turned away quickly,
+to resume his walk. She could not help asking him a question.
+
+"Why should it cost you anything? You are speaking for your friend--but
+I--"
+
+She did not finish the sentence, for it seemed to her selfish to throw
+her right to happiness into the scale against Gianluca's life. But she
+could not understand him.
+
+"It is hard to do, for all that," he answered indistinctly. "I have said
+too much," he continued, stopping before her. "I meant to do the best I
+could. Perhaps I should have said nothing. This is no time to stop at
+trifles. The man is dying, and I have a right to say that I believe you
+might save his life--and a right to beg you to try. You have the right
+to refuse, to question, to doubt--all rights that are a woman's in such
+a case. As for me--there is no question of me in all this. Since I must
+be here for him, since I have displeased you from the first, since you
+do not like me, look upon me as a necessary evil, do not consider my
+existence, think of me as a man who loves your best friend and is giving
+all he has--to save him."
+
+"All you have," repeated Veronica, thoughtfully, but without a question.
+
+"Yes!" he exclaimed.
+
+The single word was spoken with a sort of passion, as though it meant
+much to him. She liked him better now than when he walked up and down,
+giving her incoherent advice. Whatever he might mean, it was something
+which had power to move him.
+
+"You are mistaken," she said. "I like you very much."
+
+"You--Princess!" His surprise was genuine. "You have not made me think
+so," he added in a tone of wonder.
+
+"Nor have you made me think that you liked me," she answered.
+
+"Gianluca thought I did not," said Taquisara, slowly, as though speaking
+to himself.
+
+Veronica smiled.
+
+"When I first knew you, when we talked together at the villa on that
+morning before Christmas, I liked you better than him," she said.
+
+He started sharply.
+
+"Please--" He checked himself almost before the one word had escaped his
+lips.
+
+"Please--what?" she asked, naturally enough.
+
+"Nothing."
+
+His face quickened as he walked again, and she watched him curiously.
+
+"As friends of one friend, we must be friends," she said, after a pause.
+"We have spoken frankly to-night, both of us. It is much better. With
+his life between us we can say things, perhaps, which neither of us
+would have said before. You are doing all you can. You ask me to do more
+than I can--I think. As for his life--let us not talk of what may
+happen. I think of it enough, as it is."
+
+She turned as she spoke the last words, for she did not trust her face.
+But he heard the true note of sorrow in her tone.
+
+"Is it possible that you do not love him a little?" he asked, in a low
+voice.
+
+"It is true," she answered mechanically, as though hearing him in a
+dream. "I could never love him."
+
+Then, all at once she straightened herself and left the chimneypiece.
+
+"We must not talk of these things any more," she said. "Good night. We
+understand each other, do we not?"
+
+She held out her hand to him, which she very rarely did. He took it
+quietly.
+
+"I understand you--yes," he said.
+
+She looked at him a moment longer, smiled faintly, and then left the
+room. After she was gone, he sat down in the chair she had occupied,
+crossed one knee over the other, folded his hands, and stared at the
+carpet. He sat there for a long time, motionless, as though absorbed in
+the study of a difficult problem. But his expression did not change, and
+he did not speak aloud to himself as some men do when they are alone and
+in great trouble, as he was then. He was not a man of theatrical
+instincts, nor, indeed, of any great imagination. Least of all was he
+given to anything like self-examination, or arguing with his conscience.
+He was exceedingly simple in nature. He either loved or hated, either
+respected or was indifferent or despised altogether, with no
+half-measures nor compromises.
+
+Just then he was merely revolving the situation in his mind, and trying
+to see some way of escaping from it, without abandoning his friend. But
+no way occurred to him which did not look cowardly, and when he rose
+from his seat, he had made up his mind to face his troubles as well as
+he could, since he could not avoid them.
+
+He went to Gianluca's room before he went to bed. A small light burned
+behind a shade in a corner, and at first he could barely see the white
+face on the white pillow. The sick man lay sound asleep, breathing
+almost inaudibly, one light hand lying upon the coverlet, the other
+hidden. Gradually, as Taquisara looked, his eyes became accustomed to
+the light, and he gazed earnestly at his sleeping friend. He saw the
+dark rings come out beneath the drooping lids, and the paleness of the
+parted lips, and the terrible emaciation of the thin hand.
+
+But there was life still, and hope. Hope that the man might still live
+and stand among men, hope that he might yet marry Veronica Serra--and be
+happy. In the half-darkness, Taquisara set his teeth, biting hard, as
+though he would have bitten through iron, lest a sharp breath should
+escape him and disturb the sleeper's rest.
+
+That frail thing, that ghost, that airy remnant of a man, lay there,
+alive in name, between Taquisara and the mere right to think of his own
+happiness; and next to the reality of the shadow of his dream, he loved
+best on earth this shadow of reality that would not die. For he loved
+Veronica with all his heart, and after her, Gianluca della Spina. Above
+both stood honour.
+
+He knew that he was loyal and true as he stood there, and that there was
+not in the inmost inward heart of him a mean, double-faced wish that
+his friend might die there, peacefully, and leave to the winning of the
+strong what the weak had wooed in vain. He had spoken the truth when he
+had said that for his friend's life he was giving all he had, when he
+did his best to persuade Veronica that she must marry the dying man, in
+the bare hope of saving him while there was yet time. He had done his
+best, though it was no wonder that there was no conviction, but only
+vehemence, in his tone. It had been different on that day, now long ago,
+when he had first spoken for Gianluca in the garden. He had not loved
+her then. She had been no more to him than any other woman. But even on
+that day, when he had left her, he had half guessed that he might love
+her if opportunity gave possibility the right of way. He had guessed it,
+and even to guess it was to fear it, for Gianluca's sake. He was not
+quixotic. Had he been first, death or life, he would not have given
+another room at her side, had that or that man been twenty times his
+friend or his brother. Even if it had been a little otherwise, if
+Gianluca had not confided in him from the beginning, and had stood out
+as any other suitor for her hand, Taquisara, as he loved her now, would
+hardly have drawn back because his friend had been before him. But
+Gianluca had come to him, told him all; asked his advice, taken his
+help--all that, when Veronica had still been nothing to Taquisara--less
+than nothing, in a way, because she was such a great heiress, and he
+would have hesitated before asking for her hand, being but a poor
+Sicilian gentleman of good repute, few acres, and old blood.
+
+He was loyal to the core of his sound soul. Whatever became of him,
+Gianluca was to be first in his actions, wherever Veronica might stand
+in his heart, and he had the strength to do all that he meant to do. He
+would do it. He knew that he should do it, and he was glad, for his
+honour, that he could do it.
+
+He had avoided all meetings, as much as possible, from the first, going
+rarely to Bianca's house, and then not talking with Veronica when he
+could help it. For each time that he saw her, he felt that soft mystery
+of attraction in which great passion begins; that something which
+touches and draws gently on, and presses and draws again more gently,
+yet with stronger power, growing great on nothings by day and night,
+till it drives the senses slowly mad, and overtops the soul, and pricks,
+then goads, then drives--then, at the last, tears men up like straws in
+its enormous arms, rising on sudden wings to outstrip wind and whirlwind
+in the wild race that ends in death or blinding joy, or reckless ruin of
+honour, worse than any death.
+
+He had felt the growing danger at every one of their few meetings, and,
+being simple, he mistrusted himself to be what other men were. But in
+that, he was not like the many. He was not of the kind and temper to
+break down in loyalty, and he could still bear much more. Under strong
+pressure, he had come with Gianluca to the gates of Muro, and he had
+done his best to get away at once. Fate had been against him. He was
+still strong, and could face fate alone. He did not pine, and waste
+bodily, as Gianluca had done. But he turned his eyes away when he could,
+and spent his hours out of danger when he might, waiting for the moment
+when he should be free to go and live his own life alone, husbanding the
+strength which was not lacking in him, setting his teeth hard to bear
+the pain,--a simple, brave, and loyal man, caught in fate's grip, but
+silently unyielding to the last.
+
+It was his nature, to suffer without complaint, when he must suffer at
+all. No one can tell whether those feel pain most who show least what
+they feel. The measure of pain is always man, and no man can really be
+measured except by himself. We often believe that they who utter no cry
+are the most badly hurt, perhaps because silence has suggestion in it,
+and noise has none. No one knows the truth. No one has stood in the fire
+that scorches his brother's soul, to tell us which can suffer the more.
+
+Taquisara lay long awake that night, and every word that had passed
+between Veronica and him came back to his thoughts.
+
+More than once he rose and, crossing the intermediate room, went to
+Gianluca's side. Once the latter was awake, still half dreaming, and
+looked up wonderingly into his friend's eyes. He scarcely knew that he
+spoke, as his lips moved.
+
+"I am going to die," he said, in a far-off tone.
+
+Taquisara bent over him quickly, trying to smile.
+
+"Nonsense--no--no!" he said cheerfully. "You have been dreaming--you are
+better."
+
+"Yes--I am dreaming--let me sleep," answered the sick man, hardly
+articulating the words.
+
+And in a moment, he was asleep again. Taquisara listened to his
+breathing, bending down a moment longer. Then he went softly away. He
+himself slept a little, but it seemed long before the morning broke.
+
+When it was broad daylight, Gianluca seemed better, for the deep sleep
+had refreshed him. It was still very early, when the professor appeared
+and paid him a long visit, asking a few questions at first and then
+suddenly, beginning to talk of politics and the public news. Taquisara
+left the room with him, and they stood together in Gianluca's
+sitting-room.
+
+"He is better, is he not?" asked the Sicilian, eagerly.
+
+To his surprise the doctor shook his head and was silent a long time.
+
+"I know nothing," he said, at last. "Nobody knows anything. Surgery is a
+fine art, but medicine is witchcraft, or little better. You see, I
+speak frankly. I can only give you my experience, and that may be worth
+something. I have seen two cases of this kind in which, when the change
+came, the patients partially recovered, and lived for several years,
+paralyzed downwards from the point in the spine where the disease
+begins. I have seen several cases where death has resulted rather
+suddenly."
+
+"And do you see a change coming?"
+
+"Yes. It has begun already. Is he a devout man?"
+
+"A religious man, at all events," answered Taquisara, gravely.
+
+"Then, if he wishes to see a priest, it would be as well to send for one
+this morning. But if he wishes to be moved as usual, and dressed, let
+him have his way. Do not frighten him, if you can help it. No moral
+shock can do any good. I leave it to you. It is of no use to tell his
+father and mother. They are here, and you will see if he is worse. I
+suppose you know that he suffers great pain when he is moved?"
+
+"No!" said Taquisara, anxiously. "I did not know it. I sometimes hear
+him draw his breath sharply once or twice--but he never complains. I
+thought it hurt him a little."
+
+"It is agony," said the doctor. "He must be a very brave man."
+
+The professor seemed much impressed by what Taquisara had said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+Taquisara went immediately to find Don Teodoro, who was generally at
+home at that hour, in his little house just opposite the castle gate. He
+found him with his silver spectacles pushed up to the top of his head,
+his long nose buried in a musty volume, a cup of untasted coffee at his
+elbow, absorbed in study. The small room was filled with books, old and
+new, and smelt of them. As Taquisara entered, the old priest looked up,
+screwing his lids together in the attempt to recognize his visitor
+without using his spectacles. He took him for the syndic of Muro, a
+respectable countryman of fifty years, come to consult with him about
+some public matters.
+
+"Be seated," he said. "If you will pardon me, for a moment--I was
+just--"
+
+In an instant his nose almost touched the page again, and he did not
+complete the sentence, before he was lost in study once more. Taquisara
+sat down upon the only chair there was and waited a few moments, not
+realizing that he had not been recognized. But the priest forgot his
+existence immediately and if not disturbed would probably have gone on
+reading till noon.
+
+"Don Teodoro!" said Taquisara, rousing him. "Pray excuse me--"
+
+The old man looked up suddenly, with an exclamation of surprise.
+
+"Dear me!" he cried. "Are you there, Baron? I beg your pardon. I think I
+took you for some one else."
+
+He drew his spectacles down to the level of his eyes, and let the big
+book fall back upon the table.
+
+"Our friend is very ill," said Taquisara, gravely. "That is why I have
+come to disturb you."
+
+He told the priest what the doctor had said about Gianluca's condition.
+Don Teodoro listened with an expression of concern and anxiety, for he
+had become fond of the sick man during the past weeks, and Gianluca
+liked him, too. Almost every day they talked together, and the refined
+taste and sincere love of literature of the younger man delighted in the
+profound learning of the old student, while the latter found a rare
+pleasure in speaking of his favourite occupations to such an
+appreciative listener.
+
+"The fact is," Taquisara concluded, "though I have not much faith in
+doctors, I really believe that he may die at any moment. You know what
+kind of man he is. Go and sit with him after luncheon to-day--or
+before--the sooner, the better. Do not frighten him--do not tell him
+that I have spoken to you about his condition. I believe that he knows
+it himself, and if he is alone with you for some time, and you speak of
+the uncertainty of life, as a priest can, he will probably himself
+propose to make his confession. You understand those things, Don
+Teodoro--it is your business. It is our business to give you a chance."
+
+"Yes--yes," answered the old man. "I daresay you are right. I suppose
+that is what I should do." There was a reluctance in his voice which
+surprised Taquisara.
+
+"You do not seem convinced," said the latter.
+
+"I wish there were another priest here," replied Don Teodoro,
+thoughtfully, and his clear eyes looked away, avoiding the other's
+direct glance.
+
+"Why?" inquired the Sicilian, with increasing astonishment.
+
+"It is a painful office to perform for a friend." The curate looked down
+now, and fingered the corner of his old book, in evident hesitation. "It
+is quite another thing to assist the poor."
+
+"I do not understand you," said Taquisara. "I suppose that priests have
+especial sensibilities of their own--"
+
+"Sometimes--sometimes," interrupted Don Teodoro, as though speaking to
+himself. "Yes--I have especial sensibilities."
+
+"It cannot be helped," answered Taquisara, in a tone that had something
+of authority in it. "Of course we laymen do not appreciate those nice
+questions. A man is dying. He wants a priest. It is your place to go to
+him, whether he is your own father, or a swineherd. You are alone here,
+and you have no choice."
+
+"Yes, I am alone. I wish I were not. I wish that the princess would get
+me an assistant."
+
+"It will be best if you come to the castle in about an hour," said
+Taquisara, paying no attention to Don Teodoro's last remark. "By that
+time Gianluca will be in his sitting-room, and I shall be with him. The
+Duca and Duchessa will be out for their walk, for the weather is cool
+and fine, and they do not know of his imminent danger. Come in without
+warning, as though you had just come to pay him a visit of a quarter of
+an hour. You have done the same thing before. I will go away after five
+minutes and leave you together. Donna Veronica will not interrupt you."
+
+"Very well," replied the priest, in a tone that was still reluctant. "If
+it must be, it must be."
+
+Taquisara looked at him curiously and went away to arrange matters as he
+proposed. But Don Teodoro, though he wore his spectacles, with the help
+of which he really could see very well, did not notice the young man's
+glance of curiosity, as he went with him to the door, and carefully
+fastened it after him, which was an unusual proceeding on his part; for
+though he lived quite alone, the poor people never found that door
+locked by day or night. An old woman came every day to do the little
+household work that was necessary, and to cook something for him, when
+he ate at home. But to-day, for once, he drew the rusty old bolt across,
+before he went back to his study. He did nothing which could seem to
+have justified the precaution, after he had sat down again in his big
+wooden easy-chair; and if the door had been wide open, and if any one
+had come in without warning, the visitor would have found the priest
+before the table, slowly lifting one long, bent shank of his silver
+spectacles and letting it fall upon the other, in a slow and
+absent-minded fashion to which no one could have attached any especial
+importance. People who have kept a secret very long and well, keep it
+when they are alone, even when it turns its bones in the narrow grave of
+their hearts, reminding them that it is there and would be glad to see
+if it could get a vampire's dead life for a night, and come out, and
+draw blood.
+
+Taquisara went away and re-entered the castle, walking more slowly than
+was his wont. In the narrow court within, he stopped before passing
+through the door, and stood a long time staring at a fragment of a
+marble tablet with a part of a Roman inscription cut on it, which was
+built into the enormous masonry of the main wall and had remained white
+while the surrounding blocks had grown black with age. There was no more
+apparent reason why he should try to make out the meaning of the
+inscription, than why Don Teodoro should play so long with his glasses,
+all alone in his room. But Taquisara was not thinking of Don Teodoro. He
+had a secret of his own to keep from everybody, and if possible from
+himself.
+
+But that was not easy. The thing which had taken hold of him was as
+strong as he was and seemed to be watching him, grip for grip, hold for
+hold, wrench for wrench. It had not beaten him yet, but he knew that to
+yield a hair's breadth would mean a fall, and a bad one. He had almost
+relaxed his strength that little, last night, when he had been alone
+with Veronica.
+
+He read the letters of the inscription over twenty times, then turned
+sharply on his heel and went in, having probably convinced himself that
+to waste time over his own thoughts was the worst waste imaginable,
+since the more he thought of anything, the more he loved Veronica. And
+he had set himself to arrange the meeting between Gianluca and Don
+Teodoro, and each hour was precious.
+
+His face helped him, for he did not easily betray emotion; he rarely
+changed colour at all, and was not a man of mobile features. But he had
+grown thinner since he had been in Muro, and the clearly cut curves that
+marked the Saracen strain in him were sharper and more defined.
+
+He went in and met Veronica in the large room in which they usually
+fenced, and which lay between what was really the drawing-room and the
+apartment set aside for Gianluca and Taquisara. She was standing alone
+beside the table, her face very white, and as she turned to Taquisara,
+he saw something desperate in her eyes.
+
+"I have seen the doctor again," she said, not waiting for any greeting,
+and knowing that he would understand.
+
+"And I have seen the priest," answered Taquisara.
+
+She started, and pressed her lips tightly to suppress something. Her
+eyes wandered slowly and then came back to the Sicilian before she
+spoke.
+
+"You have done right," she said, and then paused a second. "He is going
+to die to-day," she added, very low.
+
+"That is not sure," replied Taquisara. "The doctor says that he has
+known cases--"
+
+"No," interrupted Veronica. "I know it--I feel it."
+
+She was resting one hand on the heavy table, and as she spoke she bent
+down, as though bowed in bodily pain. Taquisara saw the sharp lines in
+the smooth young forehead, and his teeth bit hard on one another as he
+watched her. He could not speak. With a quick-drawn breath she
+straightened herself suddenly and looked at him again. He thought he
+saw the very slightest moisture, not in her eyes, but on the lower lids
+and just below them. It was very hard to shed tears, and not like her.
+
+"Hope!" he said gently.
+
+During what seemed a long time they stood looking at each other with
+unchanging faces, and neither spoke. Some people know that dead silence
+which descends while fate's great hand is working in the dark, and men
+hold their breath and shut their eyes, listening speechless for the dull
+footfall of near destiny.
+
+At last Veronica, without a word, turned from the table and went slowly
+towards a door. Taquisara did not move. When her hand was on the lock,
+she turned her head.
+
+"Stand by me, whatever I do to-day," she said earnestly.
+
+"Yes. I will."
+
+He did not find any eloquent words nor oaths of protest, but she saw his
+face and believed him. She bent her head once, as though acknowledging
+his promise, and she went out quietly, closing the door behind her.
+
+Some minutes passed before Taquisara also left the room in the other
+direction. He wondered why she had said those last words, for he had
+seen again that desperate look in her face and did not understand it.
+Perhaps she meant to marry Gianluca before he died, and at the thought
+Taquisara felt as though a strong man had struck him a heavy blow just
+on his heart, and for one instant he steadied himself by the table and
+swallowed hard, as though the breath were out of him. It did not last a
+moment. Then he, too, went out, to go to his friend.
+
+Gianluca was gentle, quiet, almost cheerful, on that morning. He had
+evidently forgotten that he had opened his eyes and seen Taquisara
+standing by his bedside in the night, nor would he have thought anything
+of so common an occurrence had it come back to his recollection. He
+certainly did not remember having spoken of dying. But he was very weak,
+and his face was deadly pale, rather than transparent, as it usually
+seemed.
+
+Taquisara had thought of what the doctor had said about his sufferings,
+and hesitated before lifting him to carry him to the next room.
+
+"Tell me," he said, "does it hurt you very much when I take you up?"
+
+"It hurts," answered Gianluca, with a smile. "Hurting is relative, you
+know. I can bear it very well. There are things that hurt more."
+
+"What? When you try to move alone?"
+
+"Oh no! Imaginary things. You hurt me very little--you are so careful.
+What should I have done without you?"
+
+Taquisara had never touched him so tenderly before, though he was
+always as gentle as a woman with him. He lifted him, carried him from
+his bedroom and laid him in his accustomed chair. The pale head rested
+with a sigh upon the brown silk cushion.
+
+"Thank you," he said faintly. "That was better than ever. But I am
+better to-day, too."
+
+The Sicilian said nothing, but proceeded to arrange all the invalid's
+small belongings near him,--his books, his cigarettes,--for he sometimes
+smoked a little,--and the stimulant he took, and a few wild flowers
+which Elettra renewed every morning. Gianluca drew a breath of
+satisfaction when all was done. He really felt a little better, and by
+Taquisara's care had suffered less than usual in the moving. His father
+and mother had been in to see him as usual, before he was up, and before
+they went out for their daily walk. Veronica would not come yet, but he
+had the true invalid's pleasure in anticipating the coming of a
+well-loved woman. As often happens in such cases he seemed quite
+unconscious of his approaching danger.
+
+He was not surprised when Don Teodoro came in, a little later, and the
+two very soon fell into conversation together. Taquisara presently went
+away and left them, as he often did when they began to talk of books.
+Half an hour had not passed since his meeting with Veronica, but as he
+again entered the room where they had met, he found her standing before
+the window, looking out, and twisting her handkerchief slowly with both
+her hands. She started when she heard him come in, and she turned her
+head to see who it was that had opened the door. To go on, he had to
+pass near her, and she kept her eyes on his face as he approached her.
+
+"How is he?" she asked in a voice hardly recognizable as her own.
+
+She had an agonized look, and she raised her handkerchief to her mouth
+quickly, and held it, almost biting it, while he answered her.
+
+"He says that he feels better. Don Teodoro is there. He has just come.
+Is there anything that I can do?"
+
+She shook her head, still holding the handkerchief to her lips, and
+again looked out of the window. He waited a moment longer and then
+passed on, leaving her alone. He saw that she was half mad with anxiety,
+and he neither trusted himself to speak, nor believed that speaking
+could be of any use. He went down to the lower bastion, where he could
+be alone, and for a long time he walked steadily up and down, trying
+hard to think of nothing, and sometimes counting his steps as he walked,
+in order to keep his mind from itself.
+
+He did not idealize the woman he loved, for he was not a man of ideals,
+nor of much imagination. Such defects as she might have, he did not
+see, and if he had seen them he would have been indifferent to them. To
+such a man, loving meant everything and admitted of no comment, because
+there was no part of him left free to judge. He was a whole-souled man,
+who asked no questions of himself and no advice of others. He had never
+needed counsel, in his own opinion, and for the rest, what he felt was
+himself and not a secondary, dual being of separate passions and
+impressions which he could analyze and examine. He had never
+comprehended that strange machine of nicely-balanced doubts and
+certainties, forever in a state of half-morbid equilibrium between the
+wish, the thought, and the deed--such a man as Pietro Ghisleri was, for
+instance, who would refuse a beggar an alms lest the giving should be a
+satisfaction to his own vanity, and then, perhaps, would turn back in
+pity and give the poor wretch half a handful of silver. When Taquisara
+once knew that he loved Veronica, he never reverted to a state of doubt.
+He fought against it, because his friend had loved her first, and
+rooting himself where he stood, as it were, he would have let the
+passion tear him piecemeal rather than be moved by it. But he never had
+the smallest doubt as to what the passion was in itself and might be, in
+its consequences, if he should be weak for one moment. Simple struggles,
+when they are for life and death, are more terrible than any
+complicated conflict can possibly be.
+
+Don Teodoro was a long time alone with Gianluca. Whatever reasons he had
+of his own for not wishing to comply with Taquisara's request, he
+overcame them and faithfully carried out the mission imposed upon him.
+In itself it was no very hard one. Gianluca was a religious man, as
+Taquisara had said that he was, and he knew that he was very ill, though
+he did not believe himself to be dying. With his character and in his
+condition, he was glad to talk seriously with such a man as Don Teodoro,
+and then to lay before him the account of his few shortcomings according
+to the practice of his belief.
+
+The old priest came out at last, grave and bent, and, going through the
+rooms, he came upon Veronica standing alone where Taquisara had left
+her. She did not know how long she had stood there, waiting for him. He
+paused before her, and her eyes questioned him.
+
+"He wishes to see you," he said simply.
+
+"How is he?" He had not understood her unspoken question. "How is he?"
+she repeated, as he hesitated a moment.
+
+"To me he seems no worse. He says that he feels better to-day. But there
+is something, some change--something, I cannot tell what it is, since I
+last saw him."
+
+"Stay here--please stay in the house!" said Veronica. "He may need you."
+
+While she was speaking she had gone to the door, and she went out
+without looking back. A moment later, she was by Gianluca's side. She
+saw that what Don Teodoro had said was true. There was an undefinable
+change in his features since the previous day, and at the first sight of
+it her heart stood still an instant and the blood left her face, so that
+she felt very cold. She kept her back to the light, that he might not
+see that she was disturbed, and while she asked him how he was, her
+hands touched, and displaced, and replaced the little objects on the
+small table beside him,--the book, the glass, the flowers in the silver
+cup, the silver cigarette case, the things which, being quite helpless,
+he liked to have within his reach.
+
+"I really feel better to-day," he said, watching her lovingly, as he
+answered her question. "I wish I could go out."
+
+"You can be carried out upon the balcony in a little while," she said.
+"It is too cool, yet. It was a cold night, for we are getting near the
+end of August."
+
+"And in Naples they are sweltering in the heat," he answered, smiling.
+"It is beautiful here. I can see the mountains through the open window,
+and the flowers tell me what the hillsides are like, in the sunshine.
+Taquisara says that your maid brings them every morning. Thank you--of
+course it is one of your endless kind doings."
+
+"No," replied Veronica, frankly. "It is her way of showing her devotion,
+poor thing! Everybody loves you in the house--even the people who have
+hardly ever seen you. The women, speak of you as 'that angel'!" She
+tried to laugh cheerfully.
+
+"I am glad they like me, though I have done nothing to be liked by them.
+Please thank your maid for me. It is very kind of her."
+
+There was a little disappointment in his voice; for he had been happy in
+believing that Veronica sent the flowers herself, not because he needed
+coin of kindness to prove her wealth of friendship, but because whatever
+small thing came from her hand had so much more value for him than the
+greatest and most that any one else could give.
+
+She sat down beside him, and endeavoured to talk as though she were
+quite unconcerned. She tried not to look at his face, upon which it
+seemed to her that death was already fixing the last mask of life's
+comedy. It was the more terrible, because he was so quiet and so sure of
+life that morning, so convinced that he was better, so almost certain
+that he should get well.
+
+It seemed an awful thing to sit there, talking against death; but she
+did her best not to think, and only to talk and talk on, and make him
+believe that she was cheerful, while, in a kind way, she kept him from
+coming back to within a phrase's length of his love for her. It was hard
+for him, too, to make any effort. The doctor had said so. And all the
+time, she fancied that his features became by degrees less mobile, and
+that the transparent pallor so long familiar to her was turning to
+another hue, grey and stony, which she had never seen.
+
+Suddenly, while she was speaking of some indifferent thing, his eyelids
+closed and twitched, and his hand went out towards hers, almost
+spasmodically. She caught it and held it, bending far forward, and again
+her heart stood still till she missed its beating.
+
+"What is it?" she asked, staring into his face, and already half wild
+with fear.
+
+He could shake his head feebly, but for a moment he could not speak.
+With one of her hands she still held his, and with the other she pressed
+his brow. He smiled, as in a spasm, and then his face was a little
+distorted. She felt his life slipping from her, under her very touch, as
+though it were her fault because she would not hold it and keep it for
+him.
+
+"Gianluca!" she cried, repeating his name in an agonized tone.
+"Gianluca! You must not die! I am here--"
+
+He opened his eyes, and the faint smile came back, but without a spasm
+this time.
+
+"It was a little pain," he said. "I am sorry--it frightened you."
+
+"Thank God!" she exclaimed, still bending over him. "Oh--I thought you
+were gone!"
+
+"Your voice--would bring me back--Veronica," he said, with many little
+efforts, word by word, but with life in his face.
+
+She moved, and held the glass to his lips. Bravely he lifted his hand,
+and tried to hold it himself. He drank a little of the stimulant, and
+then his pale head sank back, with the short, fair hair about his
+forehead, like a glory.
+
+"Ah yes!" he said, speaking more easily, a moment later. "Death could
+never be so near but that you might stand between him and me--if you
+would," he added, so softly that the three words just reached her ears,
+as the far echo of sad music, full of beseeching tenderness.
+
+Still she held his hand, and gazed down into his face. They had told her
+long ago that he was dying of love for her. In that moment she believed
+it true. He seemed to tell her so, to be telling it with his last
+breath. And each breath might be the last. Science could not save him.
+Physicians disagreed--the great authority himself could not say whether
+he was to live or die. He fainted, fell back, seemed dead already, and
+her voice and touch brought him to life, happy for an instant, hoping
+still and living only by the beating of hope's wings. And with all that,
+though she did not love him, he was to her the dearest of all living
+beings. Holding his hand still, she looked upward, as though to be alone
+with herself for one breathing space. But as she stood there, she
+pressed his fingers little by little more tightly, not knowing what she
+did, so that he wondered.
+
+Then she bent down again, and steadily gazed into the upturned blue
+eyes, and once more smoothed away the fair hair from the pallid brow.
+
+"Do you wish it very much?" she asked simply.
+
+Half paralyzed though he was, he started, and the light that came
+suddenly to his face, wavered and sank and rose once more. She seemed to
+hear his words again, saying that she could stand between death and him,
+were death ever so near.
+
+"You?" he faltered. "Wish for you? Ah God! Veronica--" his face grew
+dead again. "No--no--I did not understand--"
+
+"But I mean it!" she said, in desperate, low tones, for she thought he
+was sinking back. "I will marry you, Gianluca! I will, dear--I will--I
+am in earnest!"
+
+Slowly his eyes opened again and looked at her, wide, startled, and half
+blind with joy. So the leader looks who, stunned to death between the
+door-posts of the hard-won gate, wakes unhurt to life in the tide of the
+victory he led, and hears the strong music of triumph, and the huge
+shout of brave men whose bursting throats cry out his name for very
+glory's sake, their own and his.
+
+Gianluca's eyes opened, and with sudden pressure he grasped the hand
+that had so long held his, believing because he held it and felt the
+flesh and blood and the warmth in his own shadowy hold.
+
+"Veronica--love!" She would not have thought that he could press her
+fingers so hard, weak as he was.
+
+The word smote her, even then, with a small icy chill, and though she
+smiled, there was a shadow in her face. Again he doubted.
+
+"Veronica--for the love of God--you are not deceiving me, to save my
+life?" The vision of despair rose in his eyes.
+
+"Deceive you? I?" she cried, with sudden energy. "Indeed, indeed, I mean
+it, as I said it."
+
+"Yes--but--but if, to-morrow--" Again his voice was failing, and she was
+hand to hand with death, for him.
+
+"No! There shall be no to-morrow for that--it shall be now!"
+
+"Now? To-day? Now?"
+
+He seemed to rise and sink, and sink and rise again, on the low-surging
+waves of his life's ebbing tide.
+
+"Yes--now!" she answered. "This moment Don Teodoro is in the house--I
+will call him--let me go for a moment--only one moment!"
+
+"No--no! Do not leave me!" He clung frantically to her hand.
+"But--yes--call him--call him! And Taquisara. He is my friend--Oh! It
+kills me to let you go!"
+
+It was indeed the very supreme moment. The great burst of happiness had
+almost killed him, and he was like a child, not knowing what he wanted.
+Still he clutched her hand. A quick thought crossed her mind. She had
+gone to the window for a moment, to fasten it back, and had seen
+Taquisara walking under the vines. He might be there.
+
+"Let me go to the window," she said, regaining her self-possession.
+"Taquisara may be on the bastion--I saw him there. He will call Don
+Teodoro, and I shall not have to leave you."
+
+Any reasoning which kept her by his side was divinely good. Her words
+calmed him a little, and his hands gradually loosened themselves. But as
+she turned quickly, he uttered a very low cry, and tried to catch her
+skirt. She did not hear him. She was already speaking from the window;
+for the Sicilian was still there, walking up and down, as he had done
+for more than an hour. She called to him. He started, and looked up
+through the broad leaves.
+
+"Get Don Teodoro at once, and bring him," she cried. "He is in the
+house--somewhere."
+
+Taquisara thought that Gianluca was dying, and neither paused nor
+answered, as he disappeared within.
+
+Veronica came back instantly. She had not been gone thirty seconds, but
+already the sick man's face was grey again, though his eyes were wide
+and staring. His head had fallen to one side, on the brown silk cushion,
+in his last attempt to reach her. With both hands, she raised him a
+little, so that he lay straight again.
+
+"They are coming--they are coming, dear one!" she repeated. "Live, live!
+Gianluca--live, for me!"
+
+In her agony of fighting for his life, she pushed his hair back, and
+pressed her lips in one long kiss upon his forehead. A shiver ran
+through him, and the sense came back to his eyes. But though she held
+his hand, there was no more strength in it to grasp hers. He sighed the
+words she heard.
+
+"Love--is it you? Veronica--love--life! Ah, Christ!"
+
+And his lids closed again. The door opened, and was shut, and Veronica
+half turned her head to see, but she brought her face tenderly nearer to
+his, as though to let him know that it was for his sake she looked away.
+Don Teodoro and Taquisara were both in the room. Even before she spoke,
+she had changed her hold upon Gianluca's fingers, and held his right
+hand in hers, as those hold hands who are to be wedded.
+
+"Bless us!" she said to the priest. "This is our marriage! Say the
+words--quickly!"
+
+Taquisara's face was livid, for he had as much of instant death in him
+as the dying man, though he could not die. But he did not fail. He came
+and knelt on the other side of the couch, away from Veronica. The priest
+stood at the foot, in pale hesitation. Veronica's eyes commanded.
+
+"Speak quickly!" she said. "I will marry him--I have said it!
+Gianluca--say it--say that you will marry me!"
+
+Holding his right hand, with her left thrust under his pillow she lifted
+him so that he sat almost upright. It needed all her strength, and she
+was very desperate for him.
+
+"Volo!" The one word floated on the air, breathed, not spoken, and dead
+silence followed.
+
+Again Veronica turned to Don Teodoro.
+
+"Say the words. I command you! I have the right--I am free!"
+
+The priest's face was white now. He stretched out his arms, lifting his
+eyes upwards.
+
+A worse change was in Gianluca's face before Don Teodoro had spoken the
+words he had to say. Taquisara saw it. Both he and Veronica bent over
+the motionless head. Still Veronica held the cold hand in hers.
+Taquisara knew that in another instant the priest would speak. Gently,
+with womanly tenderness, though his soul was on the wheel of anguish, he
+took Veronica's right hand and loosed it, and Gianluca's fell cold and
+motionless from her fingers.
+
+"He is gone," he whispered, close to her ear, and he held her right hand
+firmly, in his horror at the thought that she might be wedded to a man
+already dead.
+
+Veronica made a slight effort of instinct, to loose his hold and to take
+the hand that had fallen from hers. But it was only instinctive and
+hardly conscious at all. Her eyes were on Gianluca's face, and the
+blackness of a vast grief already darkened her soul.
+
+There was but an instant. The tall old priest, with eyes lifted
+heavenwards, neither saw nor heard.
+
+"Ego conjungo vos--" He said all the words, and then, high in air, he
+made the great sign of the cross. "Benedictas vos omnipotens Deus--" and
+he spoke all the benediction.
+
+He closed his eyes a moment in instant prayer. When he opened them and
+looked down, his face turned whiter still. On each side, before him,
+knelt the living, Veronica and Taquisara, their hands clasped and
+wedded, as they had been when he had spoken the high sacramental words,
+and between them, white, motionless, the halo of his fair hair about
+his marble brow, lay Gianluca della Spina, like an angel dead on earth.
+
+"Merciful Lord! What have I done!" cried the priest.
+
+At the sound of his voice Taquisara turned quickly. But Veronica did not
+hear. The Sicilian saw where Don Teodoro's starting eyes were fixed, and
+he understood, and his own blood shrieked in his ears, for he was
+married to Veronica Serra. Married--half married, wholly married,
+married truly or falsely, by the sudden leap of violent chance--but a
+marriage it was, of some sort. Both he and the priest knew that, and
+that it must be a voice of more authority than Don Teodoro's which could
+say that it was no marriage. For the Church's forms of office, that are
+necessary, are few and very simple, but they mean much, and what is done
+by them is not easily undone. But Veronica neither saw nor heard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+"I think--I assure you that nobody knows anything--but I think that Don
+Gianluca will improve rapidly after this crisis."
+
+That was the opinion of the great doctor, when he had seen the patient
+on the afternoon of that memorable day. For Veronica, Taquisara, and Don
+Teodoro had all three been mistaken when they had thought that Gianluca
+was dead. As the doctor said, there had been a crisis, an inward
+convulsion of the nerves, a fainting which had been almost a catalepsy,
+and, several hours later, a return to consciousness with a greatly
+increased chance of life, though with extreme momentary exhaustion.
+
+It was Taquisara who went to find the doctor, leaving Veronica on her
+knees, while Don Teodoro stood motionless at the foot of the couch, his
+hands gripping each other till his nails cut the flesh, his grotesque
+face invested for the moment with an almost sublime horror of what he
+had unwittingly done.
+
+And then had come the physician's systematic and painful search for
+life, his doubts, his hopes, his suspicions, his increasing hope again,
+his certainty at last that all was not over--and then the necessity for
+instantly carrying out his orders, the getting of all things needed for
+the sick man snatched out of death, and all the confusion that rises
+when the whole being of a great household must exert its utmost strength
+in one direction, to save one life.
+
+Amidst it all, too, the helpless father and mother ran about tearful,
+incoherent, wringing their hands, believing no one and yet believing the
+impossible, praying, crying, talking, hindering everything in their
+supreme parents' right to be in the way and nearest to what they loved
+best--hysterical with joy, both of them, at the end, when the physician
+said that Gianluca was to live, and was not dead as they had thought
+him, and wildly, pathetically, insanely grateful to Veronica.
+
+"I saw that he was dying," she told them simply, when he was out of
+danger. "I sent for Don Teodoro, and we were married."
+
+They fell upon her neck, the old man and the prematurely old woman,
+kissing her, pressing her in their arms, crying over her, not knowing
+what they did.
+
+When he saw that she was telling them, Taquisara went away from them to
+his own room and stayed there some time. And Don Teodoro also went home,
+and for the second time on that day he bolted his battered door and made
+sure that he was alone. But he did not sit at his table playing with
+his spectacles, as in the morning. He knelt in a corner, against one of
+his rough bookcases, bowed to the ground as though a mountain had come
+upon him unawares, and now and then he beat his forehead against the
+parchment bindings of his favourite folio Muratori, as certain wild
+beasts crouch on their knees and with a swinging of slow despair strike
+their heads against the bars of their cage many times in succession.
+
+For Taquisara and Don Teodoro knew, each knowing also that the other
+knew, that what Veronica believed to have been done that day had not
+been really done, save in the intention, and that what had really been
+done must by Church law and right be undone before she could be truly
+married to Gianluca della Spina. That is to say, if the thing done had
+any value whatsoever before God and man.
+
+It is easy to say that in other lands and under other practices of faith
+the four persons concerned in what had happened might have honestly told
+themselves that such a marriage was no marriage at all. An unbelieving
+Italian, and there are many in the cities, though few in the country,
+would have laughed and said that the important point was the legal union
+pronounced by the municipal authority, and that since there had been
+none here, there was nothing to undo. Yet if by any similar
+chance--more difficult to imagine, of course, but conceivable for
+argument's sake--the same mistake had occurred in a legal marriage by a
+syndic, that same unbelieving Italian would have felt in regard to it
+precisely what Taquisara and Don Teodoro felt, namely, that the union
+was well nigh indissoluble. For Italy, as a nation and a whole, while
+imitating other nations in many respects, has again and again refused to
+listen to any suggestion embodying a law of divorce. To all Italians,
+high, low, atheists, bigots, monarchists, republicans,--whatever they
+may be,--marriage is an absolutely indissoluble bond. The most that they
+will allow, and have always allowed, is that in such cases as
+Veronica's, it is in the power of the highest authority, ecclesiastic or
+legal, according to their persuasion, to annul a marriage altogether and
+declare that it never took place at all, on the ground that the
+requirements of the Church or of the law have not been properly
+fulfilled.
+
+In society, of the two forms, which are both looked upon as necessary
+together, the blessing of the Church is considered by far the more
+indispensable, though most people acknowledge the importance and
+validity of the other, as well as its wisdom; and society, as an
+aristocratic body, as a rule refuses absolutely to receive within its
+doors an Italian couple who have not been married by a priest. Among all
+society's many traditions and prejudices, there is none more ancient,
+more deep-rooted, or more rigorous to-day than this one.
+
+Under these circumstances it is not surprising that Taquisara, strong,
+loyal, and simple as he was, should honestly believe with all his heart
+that he had been married to Veronica; nor that Don Teodoro himself
+should look upon what he had unwittingly done as being something which
+he alone had no power to undo, if, in all conscience and truth, it had
+been done at all.
+
+The worst point of all, in the opinion of those two men, was that
+Veronica sincerely believed herself married to Gianluca, as in her
+intention she really was, while Gianluca himself, having pronounced the
+solemn 'I will' with his last conscious breath and being told on coming
+to himself that the sacramental words had been spoken, had no reason at
+all for doubting that he was actually her husband. The position was as
+full of difficulties as could be imagined. To let Gianluca know the
+truth would have been almost certain to kill him. To speak of it to
+Veronica for the present seemed almost equally impracticable, though it
+was quite impossible to take any steps towards the annulling of the
+marriage without her open concurrence and help, as well as Taquisara's.
+Meanwhile, not only she and Gianluca, but the Duca and Duchessa, too,
+regarded the matter as altogether settled and accomplished. At any
+moment Veronica had it in her power to send for the syndic of Muro and
+cause the necessary formalities of the municipal marriage to be properly
+executed. She would then be legally married to Gianluca, while in the
+eyes of the Church she was already Taquisara's wife, by the fact of form
+though not by the intention of any one.
+
+It did not occur either to Taquisara or to the priest that they could
+keep their secret forever and allow matters to proceed to such a
+conclusion. Don Teodoro was far too earnest a believer and a churchman
+at heart to allow what he should consider a great sin to be committed
+without any attempt to hinder it, and with the Sicilian the point of
+honour was concerned, as well as a deeply rooted adherence to social
+tradition and to the forms and ceremonies of religion in which he had
+been brought up. They were neither of them men to have so repudiated all
+they held the most sacred in faith and honour, even if either of them
+had held the secret alone without the other's knowledge.
+
+But each knew that the other knew the truth, and on that first day, each
+departed to his own room lest he should be suddenly brought face to face
+again with the other.
+
+It was his unwillingness to allow a thing to be done which, as a man and
+a gentleman, he thought both dishonourable and wrong, that prevented
+Taquisara from leaving Muro at once. For himself, his first impulse was
+to escape from the situation, from the horrible temptation he endured
+when he was with Veronica, from the barest possibility of any
+unfaithfulness to his friend. At that time the Italians were fighting in
+Massowah and as an officer of the reserve he could have volunteered for
+active service at a moment's notice--with a terribly good prospect of
+never coming back alive.
+
+But even his death would hardly have mended matters, in his scrupulous
+opinion, unless Veronica should of her own accord and without any
+especial reason insist upon being again married in church, contrary to
+the Church's own rule, but on the reasonable ground that Gianluca had
+been unconscious during a part of the ceremony. If Taquisara were dead,
+such a marriage would be valid, of course; but the prospect of his death
+gave him no assurance that she would ever do such a thing at all; and,
+moreover, in spite of his passionate temperament, he was far too
+sensible a man to think deliberately of sacrificing his life for such
+reasons. Like many another man suddenly placed in a hard position as an
+obstacle in the path of a loved woman, he asked himself the question,
+whether, in honour and against religion, he should not commit suicide.
+But the answer was a foregone conclusion, and it was plainly his duty to
+stand by his friend and by Veronica, alive and able to do the best he
+could for them both. In immediate present circumstances his presence
+was of the greatest importance to Gianluca, who depended on him almost
+entirely for help, in his sensitive dislike of being touched and moved
+by servants.
+
+And the man who was thus thrust into a situation from which it seemed
+hard to escape at all, loved Veronica Serra with all his heart, with all
+his soul, with the broad, deep, simple passion of simpler times, having
+in him much of that old plainness of character which made men take
+without question the things they wanted, and hold them by main strength
+and stoutness of heart against all comers while they lived.
+
+There had been a time when he had been able to speak coldly to her, and
+to seem to dislike her. That was past, and his devotion was even in his
+hands and visible, if he did with them the smallest act for her service.
+
+She saw it, and was glad, for he pleased her more and more in the days
+that followed the great day, while Gianluca lay pale and happy and
+gaining a little strength, and she, as his wife, sat through many hours
+of the day by his bedside, reading to him, and telling him much about
+her life, but not often allowing him to speak much, lest he should lose
+ground and be in danger again. It seemed to her at that time that
+Taquisara was learning to be another friend to her, less in most ways
+than Gianluca had been, but having much that Gianluca had not--the
+strength, the decision, the toughness. She did not miss those things in
+Gianluca. She would not have had him otherwise than he was, but she saw
+them all, and felt their influence, and admired them in the other man.
+
+She felt, too, that she had often treated him with unnecessary and
+almost unmannerly coldness, and repenting of it, she meant, in pure
+innocence of maiden purpose, to make it up to him now, by being more
+kind. Indeed, she could not understand why she had ever been so hard to
+him in former days, excepting when he had spoken so rudely to her at
+Bianca's house; and since she had seen and learned to value his loyal
+affection for Gianluca, she had not only forgiven him for what he had
+said, but had found that, on the whole, he had been right to say it.
+
+As for her marriage with Gianluca, it seemed to her to have changed
+nothing, beyond the great change it had wrought in him for the better.
+She talked with him as before. She felt, as before, that he was her
+dearest and best friend. To please him, she made plans with him for
+their future, though sometimes the sharp fear for his life ran through
+her heart like a needle of ice. They could live half the year in Naples
+and the other six months in Muro, but sometimes, when he should be quite
+well, they would travel and see the world together. It was pleasant to
+think that they had the right to be always together, now, for it would
+have seemed terrible even to Veronica to go back to the old days of
+letter-writing. To her, their marriage had been the final cementing of
+the most beautiful friendship in the world. She was glad that she had
+given her life for him, since, after all, the giving of it now changed
+it so little. It was clear, she thought, that she was made for
+friendship and not for love; and since she was so made, she had done the
+best in marrying her best friend.
+
+One day, when Gianluca was asleep, she had gone alone to her little rose
+garden up by the dungeon tower. The autumn was beginning in the
+mountains; there were few roses left, and the northerly breeze blew up
+to her out of the vast depth at her feet. Alone there, she thought of
+all these things and of how she was intended by her nature for this
+friendship of hers. Seasoning about it with herself, she took an
+imaginary case. Suppose, she thought, that she had begun to be
+Taquisara's friend, instead of Gianluca's, on that day in Bianca's
+garden. Her mind worked quickly. She pictured to herself the long
+correspondence, the intimacy of thought, the meeting and the destruction
+of the dividing barrier, the daily, hourly growing friendship, and
+then--the marriage, the touch of hands, the first kiss.
+
+The scarlet blood leapt up like fire to her face. She started and
+looked round, half dreading lest some one might be there to see. But she
+was quite alone, and she wondered at herself. It must be shame, she
+thought, at the mere idea of marrying another man when she was
+Gianluca's wife. At all events, she said in her heart, she would not
+think of such things again. It was probably a sin, and she would
+remember to speak of it, at her next confession. Don Teodoro would tell
+her what he thought. For in lonely Muro, she had no other confessor, nor
+desired any. Her faults, great and small, were such as she would have
+acknowledged and discussed with the good man, in her own drawing-room as
+willingly as in church--as, indeed, she often did. But not wishing to be
+alone with herself any longer on that day, she came down from the tower
+and went to her room, where she spent an hour with Elettra in examining
+the state of her very much reduced wardrobe.
+
+"Your Excellency is in rags," observed the woman. "You cannot appear in
+Naples as a bride with any of the things you have. In the first place,
+you have scarcely anything that is not black or white. But also, though
+some of these clothes had a cheerful youth, their old age is very sad."
+
+Veronica laughed at Elettra's way of expressing herself, and they went
+over all the wardrobe together that afternoon.
+
+As Taquisara saw how those around him seemed to have recovered from the
+terrible emotions through which they had passed, and how the life in the
+castle quickly subsided again to its monotonous level and ran on in its
+old channel, the temptation to solve all difficulties by letting matters
+alone presented itself to him with considerable force. Ten days had gone
+by, and he had not once found himself alone with Don Teodoro. When they
+met, they avoided each other's eyes, and each remained separately face
+to face with the same trouble, while each had a trouble of his own with
+which the other had nothing to do.
+
+There was little or no change now from what had formerly been the daily
+round. Again, as before, Taquisara carried his friend daily from his own
+room to the large one in which Veronica and the Sicilian again fenced
+almost every day. Sometimes, when it was fine and warm, Gianluca was
+taken out upon the balcony for a couple of hours. He no longer suffered
+in being moved; but his lower limbs were now completely paralyzed. He
+hardly thought of the fact, in his constant and increasing happiness. It
+was only when he saw the fencing that he sometimes looked down sadly at
+his useless legs and thin hands, for fencing was the only exercise for
+which he had ever cared. He had none of that sanguine vitality which
+would have made such an existence intolerable to Taquisara, or even to
+Veronica. With her beside him, or if he could not have her, with books
+or conversation, he was not only contented, but happy. It must be
+remembered, too, that he was not aware that his condition was hopeless
+and that he might live a total cripple for many years to come. If he had
+known that, he might have been less gay; not knowing it, married to the
+woman he loved and looking forward to complete recovery, life was little
+short of a paradise within sight of a heaven.
+
+Veronica never tired of taking care of him, and one might have supposed
+that she was satisfied with the prospect of nursing him all her life, or
+all his. But she herself by no means believed the doctor's predictions.
+She had been too sure that he was to die, and too much surprised and
+delighted by his recovery, to accept on mere faith of any man's verdict
+the assurance that he was never to walk again. There was the reaction,
+too, after the strong emotion and the heart-rending anxiety, the
+relaxation of mind and nerve, and the willingness to be happy again
+after so much strain and stress.
+
+As Gianluca's general health improved, the Duca and Duchessa began to
+speak of an early departure for their own place near Avellino. Their
+eldest son's illness had placed him first with them, but they had
+several other children, all of whom had been under the care of a sister
+of the Duchessa during the latter's stay at Muro. The motherly woman
+was beginning to be anxious about them, and the old gentleman had a
+fair-haired little daughter of eleven summers, whom he especially loved
+and longed to see.
+
+They thought that before long Gianluca might be moved. It was growing
+colder, day by day, in the first chill of early autumn, and they
+believed that a little warmth would do him good. Veronica should come
+and pay them a visit, and Taquisara, too.
+
+As for the marriage, they meant that it should be an open secret for a
+little while longer. The servants knew of it, and would tell other
+servants of course, and the Duchessa had written of it to her sister, on
+hearing which fact Veronica had written to Bianca Corleone, telling her
+exactly what had happened, lest Bianca should hear of it from some one
+else. It was long before she had an answer to this letter, and when it
+came Bianca's writing was full of her own desperate sadness, though
+there were words of congratulation for Veronica, such as the occasion
+seemed to require. Bianca wrote from a remote corner of Sicily, where
+she was living almost alone on her husband's principal estate. There had
+been trouble. Corleone had suddenly taken it into his head to come home
+for a few weeks. Then Bianca's brother, Gianforte Campodonico, had
+appeared and had taken a violent dislike to Pietro Ghisleri, so that
+Bianca feared a quarrel between them. Before anything had happened, she
+had induced Ghisleri to go to Switzerland, and she herself had gone to
+Sicily, whither her brother had accompanied her. But he had been obliged
+to leave her soon afterwards, and she suspected that he had followed
+Ghisleri to the north in order to pick a quarrel with him. She was very
+unhappy, and there was much more about herself in her letter than about
+Veronica's marriage.
+
+The old couple grew daily more anxious to leave for Avellino. They
+proposed that as soon as Gianluca could safely travel, the whole party
+should go there together. Before returning to Naples for the winter, the
+legal formalities of the municipal wedding could be fulfilled, and the
+marriage should then be formally announced. Gianluca and Veronica would
+come and spend the winter in the Della Spina palace, wherein, as in all
+Italian patriarchal establishments, there was a spacious apartment for
+the establishment of the eldest son whenever he should marry.
+
+Once, when this was discussed before them, Taquisara met Don Teodoro's
+eyes, and the two men looked steadily at each other for several seconds.
+But even after that they avoided a meeting. It did not seem absolutely
+necessary yet, and each knew that the other had not yet found the
+solution of the difficulty. To every one's surprise, Gianluca opposed
+the plan altogether. They all seemed to have taken it for granted that
+he need not be consulted, and Veronica, in her complete self-sacrifice,
+would have been willing to do whatever pleased the rest. But Gianluca
+quietly refused to go to Avellino at all. So long as his wife would give
+him hospitality, he said with a proud smile, he would stay in Muro.
+After that, he should prefer to return directly to Naples. It was not
+easy to argue against an invalid's prerogative. After some fruitless
+attempts to move him, his father and mother temporarily desisted.
+
+"You shall not go to Avellino," he said to Veronica, when they were
+alone. "It is a den of wild children and intolerable relations, and you
+would not have a moment's peace. You have no idea how detestable that
+sort of existence would be after this heavenly calm. I am very fond of
+my father and mother, and my brothers and sisters, and my relations, and
+most of them are very good people in their way. But that is no reason
+why you and I should be set up to be looked at, and tallied at, by them
+all, twelve hours every day."
+
+"I would certainly much rather stay here," answered Veronica, with a
+little laugh. "That is, if you can induce them to stay here, too."
+
+"For that matter, they are quite unnecessary," said Gianluca. "There is
+no reason in the world why, if you like, we should not have the legal
+marriage here since you have a syndic and a municipality. Then we could
+announce it, and there would be no objection to our staying here alone."
+
+"That is true," replied Veronica, thoughtfully. "We could always do
+that, if we chose."
+
+But she did not propose to do it at once, and he did not like to press
+her. He saw no harm, however, in speaking of the project with Taquisara.
+The Sicilian looked at him, said nothing, and then carefully examined a
+cigar before lighting it. He had long expected that such a proposal
+would come either from Gianluca or Veronica, and he was not surprised.
+But when he at last heard it made he held his breath for a moment or two
+and then began to smoke in silence.
+
+"You say nothing," observed Gianluca. "Do you see any possible objection
+to our doing that? Society ought to be satisfied."
+
+"I should think so," answered Taquisara. "I should think that anything
+would be better than Avellino and all the relations. As for going back
+to Naples and having a municipal wedding there, and no religious
+ceremony, I would not do it if I were you. The two marriages are always
+supposed to take place on consecutive days, or at least very near
+together, since both are necessary nowadays."
+
+"I know," said Gianluca.
+
+Taquisara made up his mind that he must take the initiative and speak
+with Don Teodoro. He had been willing and ready to give up all right to
+hope for the woman he loved, in order that his friend might marry her,
+but the idea that there should be an irregularity about the marriage, or
+no real marriage at all, as he believed was the case, was more than he
+could, or would, bear. To speak with Veronica was out of the question.
+He knew enough of women to understand that if she ever knew how, by an
+accident, she had held his hand instead of Gianluca's at the moment when
+she was giving her very soul to save the dying man, she might never
+forgive him. She might even turn and hate him. She would never believe
+that he himself had not known what he was doing. If it were possible, he
+would not incur such risk. Anything in reason and honour would be better
+than to be hated by her. He had seen her change of manner, of late, and
+he knew very well that she was beginning to like him much more than
+formerly.
+
+In the morning, after Don Teodoro had said mass, Taquisara went to him
+and found him over his books. This time the priest recognized him at
+once and rose to greet him gravely, as though he had expected his visit.
+
+"Have you made up your mind what to do?" asked the Sicilian, as he sat
+down.
+
+It was as though they had been in the habit of discussing the situation
+together, and were about to renew a conversation which had been broken
+off.
+
+"I know what I shall have to do, if matters go any further," answered
+the priest, in a dull voice, unlike his own.
+
+"What would that be?"
+
+"It is in my power to cause the marriage to be declared null and void."
+
+"By appealing to your bishop, I suppose. In that event Donna Veronica
+would have to be told."
+
+"There is another way."
+
+"Then why do you not take it and act at once? Why do you hesitate?"
+Taquisara watched him keenly.
+
+"Because it would mean the sacrifice of my whole existence. I am human.
+I hesitate, as long as there is any other hope."
+
+"I do not understand. As for sacrificing your existence--that must be an
+exaggeration."
+
+"Not at all. If it were only my own, I should not have hesitated,
+perhaps. I do not know. But what I should do would involve a great and
+direct injury to many others--to hundreds of other people."
+
+Taquisara looked at him harder than ever, understanding him less and
+less.
+
+"You seem to have a secret," he said at last, thoughtfully.
+
+"Yes," answered the priest, resting his elbow on the old table and
+shading his eyes with his hand, though there was no strong light to
+dazzle him. "Yes--yes," he repeated. "I have a secret, a great secret.
+I cannot tell it to you--not even to you, though you are one of the most
+discreet men I ever met. You must forgive me, but I cannot."
+
+"I do not wish to know it," replied Taquisara. "Especially not, if it
+concerns many people."
+
+A short silence followed, during which neither moved, nor looked at the
+other.
+
+"Don Teodoro," asked the Sicilian, at last, in a low voice, "please tell
+me your view of the case, as a priest. Am I, at the present moment, in
+consequence of what happened a fortnight ago, actually married to Donna
+Veronica, or not?"
+
+The priest hesitated, looked down, took off his spectacles, and put them
+on again, before he answered the question.
+
+"I think," he said, "that most people, if any had been present, would be
+of opinion that it was enough of a marriage to require a formal
+annullation before any other could take place. I should certainly not
+dare to consider the princess and Don Gianluca as married, when it was
+you who held her right hand, and received the benediction with her in
+the prescribed attitude."
+
+"Yes," answered Taquisara; "but in your own individual opinion, as a
+priest, am I married to her, or not?"
+
+"As a priest, I can have no individual opinion. I can tell you, of
+course, that the marriage can be annulled. In the first place, you
+neither of you had the intention of being married to each other. In all
+the sacraments, the intention of those to whom they are administered is
+the prime consideration. It would only be necessary for you and the
+princess to swear that you had no intention of being married, and that
+it was, to the best of your knowledge, entirely an accident, and all
+difficulties could be removed."
+
+"Ah, yes! But then Donna Veronica would know, and Gianluca would have to
+know it, too. I came here to tell you that they are seriously thinking
+of sending for the syndic, to publish the banns of marriage at the
+municipality and marry them legally, after which the Duca and Duchessa
+will go to Avellino, and leave them here together. Whether it costs your
+existence or mine, Don Teodoro, this thing shall not be done."
+
+"No," said Don Teodoro. "It shall not. You are in a terrible position
+yourself. I feel for you."
+
+"I?" Taquisara bent his brows. "I, in a terrible position?"
+
+"Do not be angry," answered the priest, gently. "I know your secret well
+enough, though she does not guess it yet. Do not think me indiscreet
+because I mention the fact. It would be far better if you could go away
+for the present. But I know how you are situated, and you are helping to
+prevent mischief. We must help each other. If it is to cost the
+existence of one of us, it shall be mine. You are young, and I am old.
+And that is not the only reason. My secret is not like yours. I cannot
+let it go down into the grave with me. I have kept it long enough, and I
+should have kept it longer, if this had not happened. I shall probably
+go to Naples to-morrow. You must prevent them from publishing the banns
+until I come back, or until you hear from me. I may never come back. It
+is possible."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Taquisara, for he saw a strange look in the
+old man's clear eyes.
+
+"I shall not end my life here," he said quietly.
+
+"You? End your life? You, commit suicide? Are you mad, Don Teodoro?"
+
+"Oh no! I may live many years yet. I hope that I may, for I have much to
+repent of. But I shall not live here."
+
+"I hope you will," said Taquisara. "But if you know my secret--keep it."
+
+"As I have kept mine till now," answered the old man.
+
+So they parted, and Taquisara went back to the castle, leaving the
+lonely priest among his books.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+Veronica did not wish the people of Muro to believe that she was
+marrying a cripple. That was the reason why she did not at once agree to
+Gianluca's proposal and send for the syndic to perform the legal
+ceremony. She had persuaded herself that by quick degrees of
+improvement, he would recover the power to stand upright, at least to
+the extent to which he had still retained his strength when he had first
+arrived. Since he had lived through the crisis, she grew sanguine for
+him and hoped much.
+
+Her feeling was natural enough in the matter, though it was made up of
+several undefined instincts about which she troubled herself very
+little--pride of race, pride of personal wholeness and soundness, pride
+of womanhood in the manhood of a husband. Veronica named none of these
+in her thoughts, but they were all in her heart. Few women would not
+have felt the same in her place.
+
+She was sure that he was to get better, if not quite well, and she
+wished that he might be well enough to stand beside her on his feet when
+they should be formally married. If he continued to improve as rapidly
+as during the past fortnight, she believed that the day could not be far
+off. When he could stand, in another month, perhaps, the syndic should
+come. It was even possible that by that time he might be able to walk a
+little with her in the village.
+
+Her people were a sort of family to her. That was a remnant of feudalism
+in her character, perhaps, which had suddenly developed during the
+months she had spent in Muro. But that, too, was natural, as it was
+natural that they should love her and almost worship the ground she
+trod. For the poorer classes of Italians are sometimes very forgetful of
+benefits, but are rarely ungrateful. She had done in a few months, for
+their real advantage, so that they felt it, enough to make up for the
+oppression of generations of Serra, and almost enough to atone for the
+extortions of Gregorio Macomer. She was the last of her name, and her
+husband, if he lived, was to be the father of a new stock, which would
+be called Serra della Spina, and whose men would hold the lands and take
+the rents and do good, or not, according to their hearts, each in his
+generation. It seemed to her that the people had a right to see Gianluca
+standing on his feet beside her, since her marriage was to mean so much
+to them.
+
+Don Teodoro came to her, soon after Taquisara had left him, to tell her
+that he must go to Naples without delay. She looked at him in
+astonishment at the proposal, and as she looked, she saw that his face
+was changed. Oddly enough, he held himself much more erect than usual;
+but his features were drawn down as though by much suffering, and his
+eyes, usually so clear and steady, wandered nervously about the room.
+
+"You are not well," said Veronica. "Why must you go now?"
+
+"It is because I must go now that I am not well," answered the priest,
+shaking his head. "I am very sorry to be obliged to leave you at this
+time. I only hope that, if you are thinking of fulfilling the legal
+formalities of your marriage, you will give me notice of the fact, so
+that I may come back, if I can. You know that all that concerns you
+concerns my life."
+
+Veronica looked at him, and wondered why he was so much disturbed. But
+his words gave her an opportunity of speaking to him about her own
+decision. She did not wish him to think her capricious, much less to
+imagine that she looked upon the marriage as a mere piece of sentiment,
+which was not to change her life at all, except to bind her as a nurse
+to the bedside of a hopeless invalid. That idea itself was beginning to
+be repugnant to her, and the hope that Gianluca might recover was
+becoming a necessary part of her happiness, though she scarcely knew
+it.
+
+"My dear Don Teodoro," she said, "so far as that is concerned, you may
+be quite sure that I will let you know in time. I have not the slightest
+intention of fulfilling any legal formalities until my husband is well
+enough to stand on his feet with me before the syndic; and I am afraid
+that he will not be well enough for that in less than a month, at the
+earliest."
+
+The wandering eyes suddenly fixed themselves on her face, the strange
+great features relaxed, and the wide, thin lips smiled at her. His
+happiness was strangely founded, but it was genuine, though not
+altogether noble. Her words were a reprieve; and he could keep his
+secret longer, almost, perhaps, until he died, and when he should be
+dying, it would be easier to tell. But that was far from being all. He
+loved her, as the source of great charity and kindness from which the
+people were drawing life, with all his own passionate charity; and he
+loved her for herself, for her gentleness and her hardness, because she
+ruled him, and because she touched his heart. All other thoughts away,
+he could not bear to think of her as bound for life to be the actual
+wife of a helpless cripple.
+
+And something of her own heart he half guessed and half knew. For in her
+innocence she had confessed to him how she had thought of Taquisara,
+when she had been alone that day, and how the blood had flowed in her
+face, and burned her so that she was almost sure that such thoughts
+must be wrong. It was because she had told him these things that he had
+watched Taquisara ever since, and he had seen that the man loved her
+silently.
+
+But he knew also, as well as any one could know it, that Gianluca would
+never stand upon his feet again. And, moreover, he knew that though it
+would seem wrong to Veronica to love Taquisara, and would be wrong, if
+she had intention, as it were, yet there could be no real sin in it, for
+she was not Gianluca's wife. Had she been truly married, Don Teodoro,
+gentle and old, would have found strength to force Taquisara to go
+away--had anything more than the force of honour been needed in such a
+case.
+
+"I am very glad, my dear Princess," he said, and his voice trembled in
+the reaction after his own anxiety. "You do not wish me to go to Naples,
+now?" he said with an interrogation, after a brief pause. "You would
+rather that I should wait until Christmas?"
+
+"Of course--if you can," answered Veronica, somewhat surprised at his
+change of tone. "But if you really must go, if you are so very anxious
+to go at once, I must not hinder you."
+
+"I will see," said Don Teodoro. "I will think of it. Perhaps it can be
+arranged--indeed, I think it can."
+
+He was old, she thought, and he had never been decided in character,
+except about doing good to poor people, and studying Church history. So
+she did not press him with questions, but let him do as he would; and he
+did not go to Naples then, but he went and found Taquisara within the
+hour, and told him what Veronica had said about her marriage.
+
+The Sicilian heard him in silence, as they stood together on the lower
+bastion where they had met, but Don Teodoro saw the high-cut nostrils
+quiver, while the even lips set themselves to betray nothing.
+
+"If matters go no further than they have gone," he said at last, as the
+priest waited, "we need do nothing."
+
+So they did nothing, and Don Teodoro did not go to Naples.
+
+The daily life ran on in its channel. But Gianluca did not continue to
+improve so fast. Then it seemed as though improvement had reached its
+limit, and still he was helpless to stand, being completely and
+hopelessly paralyzed in his lower limbs. At first, neither the old
+couple nor Veronica realized that he was no longer getting better,
+though he was no worse. He himself did not believe it; but Taquisara saw
+and understood. Gianluca refused to be moved, insisting that he was
+gaining strength, and that some day the sensation would come suddenly to
+his feet, and he should stand upright. Otherwise, he was now almost as
+well as when he had come to Muro. They sent for a wheel-chair from
+Naples, and he wheeled himself through the endless rooms, and to
+luncheon, and to dinner, Veronica walking by his side. It gave his arms
+exercise, and he became very expert at it, laughing cheerfully as he
+made the wheels go round, and he went so fast that Veronica sometimes
+had to run a few steps to keep up with him.
+
+Then, one day, Taquisara carried him out to the gate, and set him in the
+carriage, and Veronica took him for a short drive. The poor people were,
+most of them, at their work, but the very old men and the boys and girls
+turned out, and flocked after the victoria as it moved slowly through
+the narrow street. Some of them called out words of simple blessing on
+the couple, but others hushed them and said that the princess was not
+really married yet. Gianluca smiled as he looked into Veronica's face,
+and she smiled, too, but less happily.
+
+The weather changed. There had been a short touch of cold in the air at
+the end of August, and breezes from the north that poured down from the
+heights behind the castle, into the tremendous abyss below, and shot up
+again to the walls and the windows, even as high as the dungeon tower.
+Then, at the new moon, the weather had changed, the sky grew warm again,
+the little clouds hung high and motionless above the peaks, melting from
+day to day to a serene, deep calm, in which, all the earth seemed to be
+ripening in a great stillness while heaven held its breath, and the
+mountains slept. In the rich valley the grapes grew full and dark, and
+the last figs cracked with full sweetness in the sun, the pears grew
+golden, and the apples red, and all the green silver of the olive groves
+was dotted through and through its shade, with myriad millions of dull
+green points, where the oil-fruit hung by little stems beneath the
+leaves.
+
+An autumn began, such as no one in Muro remembered--an autumn of golden
+days and dewy moonlight nights, soft, breathless, sweet, and tender. It
+was a year of plenty and of much good wine, which is rare in the south,
+for when the wine is much it is very seldom good. But this year all
+prospered, and the people said that the Blessed Mother of God loved the
+young princess and would bless her, and hers also, and give her husband
+back his strength, even by a miracle if need should be.
+
+Gianluca clung to the place where he was happy, and would not be taken
+away. His mother humoured him, and the old Duca, yearning for his little
+fair-haired daughter, went alone at last to Avellino.
+
+Then came long conversations at night between the Duchessa and Veronica.
+The Duchessa loved her son very dearly, but since he was so much better,
+she was tired of Muro. She wished to see her other children. It was
+ridiculous to expect that she and her husband should relieve each other
+as sentries of propriety in Veronica's castle, the one not daring to go
+till the other came back. Why should Veronica not send for the syndic
+and have the formalities fulfilled? Once legally, as well as
+christianly, man and wife, the two could stay in Muro as long as they
+pleased.
+
+But Veronica would not. Gianluca was improving, and before long he would
+walk. She had set her heart upon it, that he should be strong again. She
+would not have her people think that he was a cripple. The people were
+peasants, the Duchessa answered, peasants like any others. Why should
+the Princess of Acireale care what such creatures thought? But
+Veronica's eyes gleamed, and she said that they were her own people and
+a part of her life, and she told the Duchessa all that was in her mind,
+very frankly, and so innocently, yet with such unbending determination
+to have her way, that the Duchessa did not know what to do. Thereupon,
+after the manner of futile people, she repeated herself, and the
+struggle began again.
+
+It was a tragedy that had begun. Veronica had escaped with her life from
+Matilde Macomer to find out in the consequence of her own free deeds
+what tragedy really meant, and how bitter the fruit of good could be.
+
+Nor in the slightest degree had her affection for Gianluca diminished,
+nor did it change in itself, as days followed days to full weeks, and
+week choked week, cramming whole months back into time's sack, for time
+to bear away and cast into the abyss of the useless and irrevocable
+past.
+
+Still he was her friend, still she would give her life to save him, and
+would have given it again if it had been to give. Still she could talk
+with him, and listen to him, and answer smile and word and gesture. She
+could sit beside him through quiet hours, and drive with him in the
+vast, still sunshine of that golden autumn, calling him by gentler names
+than friend and touching his hand softly in the long silence. All this
+she could do, and if there were ever any effort in it, that was surely
+not an effort to be kind, but one of those little doubting, uncertain,
+spontaneous efforts which we make whenever we unconsciously begin to
+feel that it will not be enough to do right, but that we must also seem
+to do right in other eyes, lest our right be thought half hearted.
+
+The days were monotonous, but it was not their monotony which she felt,
+so much as that irrevocable quality of them all which made a grey
+background in her soul, against which something was moving, undefined,
+strong as the unseen wind, yet mistily visible sometimes, having more
+life than shape--a terrible thing which drew her to it against her will,
+and yet a thing which had in it much besides terror.
+
+She turned from it when she knew that it was there, and fixed her sight
+upon Gianluca's face. Sometimes she found comfort in that, and she did
+all that was required of her, and more also, and was glad to do it.
+
+But the wrong done to nature was deeper and more real than all the good
+she could do to hide it, and it cried out against her continually by the
+voice of the woman's instinct. It was not Gianluca who became
+intolerable to her, but she herself, and it was to escape from herself
+that she clung to him closely, as well as out of affection for him; for
+when she was by herself she was no longer alone. That other unshaped
+something kept her company.
+
+She was bound hand and foot, soul, body, and intelligence, for life.
+She, the very strong, was tied to the helpless; she, the energetic, was
+bound to apathy; she, the active, was nailed to the passive; she, the
+free, the erect, was bowed under a burden which she must carry to her
+life's end, never to be free again.
+
+She could bear the burden, and she said none of these things to herself.
+But the wrong was upon nature, and the mother of all turned against the
+one child that would be unlike all the rest.
+
+The man who was a man, soul and body, heart, hand, and spirit, stood
+beside the other, who was a shadow, and beside her, who was a woman--and
+the tragedy began in the prologue of contrast. Strength to weakness,
+motion to immobility, the grace and carriage of manly youth to the sad
+restfulness of helpless, hopeless limbs that never again could feel and
+bear weight; that was the contrast from which there was no escaping. On
+the steps of love's temple, at the very threshold, the one lay half
+dead, never to rise again; and beside him stood the other, in the pride
+and glory of the morning of life.
+
+It would have been hard, even if the contrast had been less strong to
+the eye, and the distance of the two souls greater one from the
+other--even if Taquisara had not been what he was. But as the one, in
+his being, was alive from head to heel, so the other was dead save in
+the thoughts in which he still had a shadowy life. And for the
+rest--flesh, blood, and life apart--they were equals. Was Gianluca true?
+Taquisara was as honest and loyal as the brave daylight. Was the one
+brave? So was the other, in thought and deed. Was Gianluca enduring? So
+was Taquisara, and he had the more to endure, the more to fight, the
+more to keep down in him.
+
+She knew that he loved her. How it was that she knew it she could not
+tell, but sometimes the music of the truth rang in her ears till the
+flame shot up in her face and she shut her eyes to hide her soul--a
+loud, triumphant music, stately and grand as might herald the marching
+of archangels--till her inward cry of terror pierced it, and all was as
+still as the grave. Then, for a space, the vision of sin stood dark in
+the way, and she turned and fled from it back to Gianluca's side, back
+to the care of him, back to his helpless love for her, back to his
+pathetic, stricken restfulness, back to the maiden dreams of a life-long
+friendship, unbroken as the calm of the summer ocean, perfect as the
+cloudless sky of those golden autumn days.
+
+For a time, the dark wraith of sin faded, and there was no music in the
+air, and her cheek was cool, while she looked all the world in the face
+with the fearless eyes of a child-empress. Again the monotonous, good
+day rolled in the same grooves, noiselessly, and surely, as all the days
+to come were to roll along, to the end of ends. She worked for her
+people, talked with Don Teodoro, talked, smiled, laughed with Gianluca,
+and bore the old Duchessa's ramblings with patience and kindness.
+
+But all of a sudden, for a nothing, at the sight of a fencing foil, at
+the smell of Gianluca's cigarette, at the sound of a footfall she knew,
+there came the mad wish to be alone; and she resisted it, for it did not
+seem good to her, and even as she struggled the blood rose in her throat
+and was in her cheeks in a moment, so that if just then by chance
+Taquisara came upon her suddenly, the room swam and for an instant her
+brain reeled as she turned her face from him in mortal shame.
+
+She knew so well that he loved her, and that he was suffering, too. It
+was love's hands that had chiselled the bronze of his face to leaner
+lines, and that threw a new darkness into his dark eyes. It was for her
+that there was that other note in his voice that had never been there
+before. It was for love of her that once or twice, when she took his
+hand in greeting, it was icy cold--not like Gianluca's, half dead, and
+dull, and chilly, and very thin--but cold from the heart, as it were,
+and more wildly living than if it had burned like fire; trembling, and
+not in weakness, with something that caught her own fingers and ran like
+lightning to the very core and quick of her soul, hurting it overmuch
+with its bolt of joy and fear. It was for her that, at the first, he had
+been cold and silent, because he was afraid of himself, and of love, and
+of the least, faintest breath that might tarnish the bright shield of
+his spotless loyalty to Gianluca.
+
+All the little changes in his speech and manner were clear to her now,
+and each had its meaning, and all meant the same. His words, spoken from
+time to time, came back to her, and she understood them, and saw how,
+for his friend's sake, he had held his peace for himself, and had ever
+urged her to marry Gianluca, in spite of everything.
+
+If he had not loved her, or if she had thought that he did not, she
+would have had the pride to tear her heart clean from love's terrible
+hands, whole or broken, as might be, and to toss it, with the dead dull
+weeks into old time's sack of irrevocably lost and useless things, and
+so to live her life out, loveless, in the still haven of Gianluca's
+friendship. But, having his love, she had not such pride; and the
+loyalty she truly had was matched alone against all human nature since
+the world began.
+
+Do what she would, she yielded sometimes to that great wish to go
+suddenly to her own room and be alone. Then, standing at her window when
+the mist whitened in the valley under the broad moon, she listened, and
+instantly the air was full of music again as love lifted up its voice,
+and sweetly chanted the melody of life. With parted lips she listened,
+till the moonlight filled her eyes, and her heart fluttered softly, and
+her throat was warm.
+
+And sometimes, too, while she was there, the man who loved her so
+silently and so well was by his friend's side, tending as his own the
+life that stood between him and the hope of happiness; loving both him
+and her, but honour best. But sometimes he, too, was alone in his own
+room, and even at his window, facing the same broad moon, the same white
+mist in the sleeping valley, the same dark, crested hills, but not
+hearing the music that the woman heard. He could be calm for a while as
+he looked out; but presently, without warning, he swallowed hard, and
+again, as on the fatal day, he held her little hand in his, under the
+priest's great sign of the cross, and his own blood shrieked in his
+ears. In cruel anger against himself, he turned from the window then and
+paced the room with short, braced steps, till at last he threw himself
+into a deep chair and sullenly took the first book at hand, to read
+himself back to the monotony of all he had to bear.
+
+And so those two fearless ones went through the days and weeks in
+twofold terror of themselves and each of the other, and the slow,
+wordless tragedy was acted before eyes that saw but did not understand.
+Still Gianluca refused to go away, and still Veronica refused to send
+for the syndic. She would not yield to the Duchessa, who found herself
+opposed both by her son and her son's wife.
+
+No one knew how much Veronica herself still hoped, when the bright
+autumn days were broken at last by the first winter storm that rose out
+of the dark south in monstrous wrath against such perpetual calm. She
+herself did not know whether she still hoped for any improvement, or
+whether, in her inmost thoughts, she had given up hope and had accepted
+the certainty that Gianluca was never to be better than he was now.
+There is something of habit in all hope that has been with us long, and
+the habits we notice the least are sometimes the hardest of all to
+break.
+
+When Veronica said that Gianluca would yet stand up and walk, no one
+contradicted her, except the doctors, and she had no faith in them.
+They came and went. The great professor came three times from Naples and
+saw the patient, ate his dinner, slept soundly, and went away assuring
+Veronica that it was useless to send for him unless some great change
+took place. To please her, he recommended a little electricity, baths,
+light treatment such as could give little trouble, and he carefully
+instructed the young doctor of Muro in all he was to do. When he had
+finished, and the young man had promised to do everything regularly,
+they looked at each other, smiled sadly, but professionally, and parted
+with mutual good will and understanding, both knowing that the case was
+now perfectly hopeless. Their coming and going made little intervals in
+the tragic play of life, but never broke its continuity.
+
+The old Duca appeared again, and slipped quietly into his place, as
+before. But at the end of a week there was an unexpected flaring-up of
+energy, as it were, in his docile and affectionate being. When he and
+his wife and Veronica were with Gianluca, he suddenly declared that the
+situation must end, and that they must all go down to Naples. Veronica
+should send for the syndic, and have the legal marriage at once, and
+then they would all go down together. It was quite clear in his mind, as
+simple as daylight, as easy of performance as breathing, as satisfactory
+as satisfaction itself. The Duchessa was with him, and supported all he
+said with approving nods and futile gestures and incoherent phrases
+thrown in, as one throws straws upon a stream to see the current carry
+them away.
+
+Gianluca said nothing, and Veronica stood alone against them all, for
+she knew that he was on his father's side. She guessed, perhaps, that
+Gianluca had made up his mind never to leave her roof except as her
+lawful husband, clinging to her, as he had tried to cling to her skirt
+on that most eventful day when she had gone to the window for a moment;
+and she understood why, having spoken once, he would not speak again. He
+was too proud to repeat such a request, but his love was far too
+obstinate to be satisfied with less than its fulfilment. But his own
+hope for his recovery was more alive than hers.
+
+Instinctively, as she opposed them all, Veronica looked round for
+Taquisara. It was not often that she needed help, and she knew that he
+could have helped her, had he been there. But she had to speak for
+herself. She said what she could; but in that self-examination which
+self-defence forces upon those who have never dissected their own
+hearts, a new and fearful truth sprang up, clear of all others, bright,
+keen, and terrible.
+
+It was no longer for her people's sake that she was waiting in the hope
+of Gianluca's recovery. It was no longer for her own, nor for his. It
+was out of her deadly love for Taquisara that all her nature rose
+against that final bond of the law, and the world, and society. So long
+as that was not yet welded and made fast upon her, there was the
+fleeting shadow of a desperate hope that she might still be free.
+
+It rose and smote her between the eyes, and clutched at her heart; and
+when she knew its face, she stopped in the midst of her speech, and
+turned white, even to her lips and her throat.
+
+"I do not know. I will think about it," she said faintly.
+
+As her power to oppose gave way, the Duca's astonishment at his victory
+swelled his weakness to violence; and he raved of duties and
+obligations, of paternal authority, of the obedience of children and
+children-in-law, in all the boundless, self-assured incoherence of
+feebleness suddenly let loose against smitten strength.
+
+Veronica seemed to hear nothing. She had resumed her seat beside
+Gianluca, and was stroking his white hand,--less thin than it had been,
+but somehow even more lifeless,--and she looked down at it very
+thoughtfully, while he watched her face. He was happier than he had been
+for a long time, for he knew that she was going to make a concession,
+and that he had not asked for it.
+
+There was silence, and Veronica raised her head. The old Duca's face
+was red with the exertion of much speaking. He was a good man and meant
+well, but in that moment Veronica hated him as she had never hated any
+one, not even Matilde Macomer. And yet she knew that his intention was
+all for the best, and that it was natural that he should press his point
+and exult when she gave up the fight. She opened her lips to speak.
+
+At that moment the door turned on its hinges opposite her eyes, and
+Taquisara stood before her. He came in quietly and not knowing that
+anything extraordinary was occurring. But his eyes met hers for one
+moment, and instantly her cheek reddened in the evening light.
+
+"I will give you a promise," she said slowly. "This is the first week in
+December. If Gianluca is not much better by the first of January, I will
+do as you ask. The civil marriage shall take place here, and if he
+wishes to go down to Naples, we will all go together."
+
+The Duca began to speak again, sure that he could press her further. But
+she interrupted him. Taquisara had gone to the window and was turning
+his back on them all.
+
+"No," said Veronica. "That is what I will do, and I will do it--I have
+promised--that, and nothing else."
+
+She had risen, and as she pronounced the last words, she left Gianluca's
+side and, with her eyes fixed before her, went straight to the door,
+pale and erect. She felt that she had given her life a second time.
+Taquisara heard her footsteps, left the window, and opened the door for
+her to pass, standing aside while she went by. He saw her head move a
+little, as though she would turn and look at him, and he saw how
+resolutely she resisted and looked before her. He understood that she
+would not trust herself to see his eyes again, and he quietly closed the
+door behind her. She knew what he must have felt when she had spoken,
+and he felt a lofty pride that she should trust him to bear the knife
+without warning, sure that he would utter no cry.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+The tenth of December was at hand, on which day Don Teodoro had been in
+the habit of going to Naples to pay his annual visit to his friend Don
+Matteo. When Taquisara told him of what had taken place, the priest knew
+that he need not disturb Veronica for permission to leave Muro, merely
+for the sake of gaining a day or two. One day was all he needed, and
+there would be three weeks from the tenth of December to the first of
+January. He made his preparations for the little journey with much care,
+and went away with more luggage than usual. He also set all his
+manuscripts and books in order. When he was going away he gave the key
+of his little house to Taquisara.
+
+"I do not expect to come back," he said. "But you will hear from me. It
+will be kind of you to have my books and manuscripts sent to an address
+which I will give you in my letter. I do not think that we shall meet
+again. Good-bye. If I were not what I am, I would bless you. Good-bye."
+
+Taquisara held his hand for a moment.
+
+"We shall all bless you," he answered, "if you can end this trouble."
+
+"I can," said the priest. "And your blessing is worth having."
+
+He went away quickly, as though not trusting himself to speak any more.
+He had taken leave of Veronica and the rest as hastily as he could
+without giving offence to any one. It was not until he looked back at
+the poor people who waved their hands at him as he went out of the
+village that the hot tears streamed down his cheeks.
+
+He was twenty-four hours in reaching Naples, as usual, and his friend
+greeted him with open arms as he always did. He thought that Don Teodoro
+looked ill and tired, and as it was a fine day they walked the short
+distance from Don Matteo's house to the cafe where the priest had sat
+with Bosio, and they each drank a cup of chocolate.
+
+Don Matteo observed that the tenth of December had been a fine day in
+the preceding year, too, and Don Teodoro tried to remember in what year
+it had last rained on that date. They ate little puffed bits of pastry
+with their chocolate, and they sat a long time over it, while Don Matteo
+told Don Teodoro of an interesting document of the fourteenth century
+which he had discovered in a private library. Don Teodoro spoke rarely,
+but not at random, for the thinking habit of the scholarly mind does not
+easily break down, even under a great strain.
+
+Then they went back to Don Matteo's house, and sat down together in the
+study. Don Matteo wondered why his friend did not unpack and arrange his
+belongings, especially as he had brought more luggage than usual with
+him, but he saw that he was tired, and said nothing. Don Teodoro took
+off his spectacles, and rubbed them bright with the corner of his
+mantle. He looked at them and took a long time over polishing them, for
+he was thinking of all the things he had seen through the old
+silver-rimmed glasses, some of which he should never see again.
+
+"My friend," he said at last, "I wish to tell you a secret."
+
+Don Matteo turned slowly in his seat, uncrossed his knees, and looked at
+him.
+
+"You may trust me," he answered.
+
+"I know that," said Don Teodoro. "But there are reasons, as you will
+see, why you cannot receive this as an ordinary secret. I wish to tell
+it to you as a confession. You will then have to consult the archbishop,
+before giving me absolution--and advice."
+
+"Is it as serious as that?" asked Don Matteo, very much surprised, for
+only the very gravest matters, and generally the most terrible crimes,
+are referred to the bishop by a confessor.
+
+"It is a grave matter," answered Don Teodoro. "Have the kindness to get
+your stole, and I will make my confession, here. But we will lock the
+enter door of the outer room, if you please."
+
+He was shivering, and his face was white as he rose to go and slip the
+bolt. Re-entering the room, he locked the inner door also behind him.
+Don Matteo had produced from a drawer an old violet stole with tarnished
+silver embroidery. It was carefully wrapped up in thin, clean, white
+paper. A priest always wears the stole in administering any of the seven
+sacraments. He passed it over his head, and the broad bands fell over
+his breast, and he held the ends, upon which were embroidered small
+Greek crosses, in one of his hands. Grave and silent, he sat down beside
+the table, resting his elbow upon it and shading his eyes with his other
+hand.
+
+Don Teodoro knelt down, beside him at the table, and each said his part
+of the preliminary form in a low voice. When Don Teodoro had said the
+first half of the 'Confiteor,' he was silent for some time, and Don
+Matteo was aware that his tall, thin frame was trembling, for the table
+shook under his elbow. Then he began to speak, as follows:--
+
+"I must tell the story of my life. My father was an officer in the army
+of King Ferdinand, under the former government, and I was his only
+child. He had a little fortune, and his pay was relatively large for
+those days, so that I was brought up as a gentleman's son. My father,
+who had been so fortunate as to make many advantageous friendships in
+the course of his career, wished me to enter the military academy and
+the army. By his interest I should have had rapid advancement. But this
+was not my inclination. Ever since I can remember anything, I know that
+I ardently wished to be a priest. As a little boy, I used to make a
+small altar in a dark room behind my own, and I used to adorn it and
+dress it for the feast days, and light tapers on it, and save my pocket
+money to buy tiny silver ornaments for it. Before I could read I knew
+the Rosary and the short Litanies, and I used to say them very devoutly
+before my little altar, with genuflexions and other gestures such as I
+saw the priests make in church. My father smiled sometimes, but he did
+not interfere. He was a devout man, though he was a soldier. I had some
+facility for learning, also, and was fond of all books. My mother died
+when I was four years old.
+
+"I need not tell how the devout passion increased in me as I grew older.
+I passed through all the stages of such development very quickly. My
+father believed that I had a true vocation for the Church, and yielding
+to my entreaties and to the advice of his friends, who told him that he
+could never make a soldier of such a boy, he allowed me to enter a
+seminary. I was very happy, and my love of books and my earnest desire
+to be a priest continued to increase. I was made a deacon and received
+the tonsure. Then I fell ill. It was the will of Heaven, for I never was
+ill before that, nor have been since. It was a long illness, a dangerous
+fever. Just before that time, while I was in the seminary, my father had
+married a second time, a young and very beautiful woman, scarcely two
+years older than I. They both took care of me, and she was very kind and
+liked me from the first.
+
+"I loved her. That was perhaps an illness also, for I never suffered in
+that way again. It was very terrible, for I knew what a great sin it was
+to love my father's wife. I never told her that I loved her, and she was
+always the same, kind and good. My heart was red-hot iron in my breast,
+day and night, and it was very long before I was really well again.
+After that, I confessed my sin many times, but I could not feel
+repentance for it. My father wondered, and so did she, why I would not
+go back to the seminary for the few months that remained to complete my
+studies. It would have been better if I had gone back. But I loved her,
+and I could not. I could not confess the sin in my heart to the
+confessor of the seminary, for whom I had great esteem and who had known
+me so long, I was ashamed, and waited, thinking that it would pass. But
+I wished to escape.
+
+"I joined myself as a lay brother to a Franciscan mission that was
+going to Africa. My father made many objections to this, but I overcame
+them. I think he guessed that I loved his wife, and though he loved me,
+too, he was glad that I should go away. As for me, I trusted that in the
+labours of a distant mission I should forget my love, feel honest
+repentance, receive absolution, and be ordained a true priest by a
+missionary bishop.
+
+"We were seven who started together upon that mission. After two years I
+alone was left alive. One after the other they died of the fever of that
+country. We had written for help, but I knew afterwards that our letters
+had not reached the sea. That was why no one came to bring help. We had
+converted people amongst those savages and had built a chapel. Even
+those who were not converted were friendly, for we had taught them many
+things. My companions all died, one by one, and I buried the last. But I
+myself was never ill of the fever. Yet the people there clung around me.
+I committed a great sin. They had no priest, and they did not understand
+that I was not one, for I dressed like the others. If there were no more
+services in the little chapel, they would think that Christianity was
+dead, and they would fall back to their former condition. I took the sin
+upon myself, and I said mass for them, knowing that it was no mass, and
+praying that God would forgive me, and that it might not be a sacrilege.
+I did not fall ill. I lived amongst them, and received their
+confessions and administered all the sacraments when they were required,
+for the space of a year and a half, during which I sent many appeals for
+help. But in my letters I did not explain what I was doing, for I
+intended to go to the bishop if I ever got home alive, and confess to
+him.
+
+"At last help came, priests and lay brothers. It pleased Heaven that
+they should come at last at the very moment when I was saying mass for
+the people. Of course there was no bishop amongst them, and none of them
+knew that I was not a priest. I should have confessed the truth to the
+eldest of them, but I had no courage, for I did not do it at once, but
+put it off, and as every priest said mass every day, I said mine, too,
+on the first morning after the others had come. I wished to go away at
+once. But I alone knew all the people, and could preach a little in
+their language, and I was much loved by them, for I had been alone with
+them during eighteen months. So my new brethren would not let me go, and
+after what I had done so far, I was ashamed to tell the truth about
+myself. They looked up to me as a superior, because I had been so long
+in the mission and had lived through what had killed so many. They
+thought me very humble and praised my humility. But it was not
+humility--it was shame.
+
+"During two years more I remained with them, and two of them died, but
+the rest lived, for I had learned how men should live in that country in
+order to escape the fevers, and I taught them. The mission grew, and
+many people were converted. Then they began to speak of sending home two
+of their number to Rome, to give an account of the work, and to get more
+help, if possible, in order that the conversion might be carried further
+into the country; and they decided to do so. It was my right to be one
+of the two, and I took it. My companion was a young priest less strong
+than the rest, and we left the mission and after a long journey we got
+home safely. I meant to go to the first bishop I met, and make my
+confession.
+
+"But when we came to Rome and we were giving an account of what had been
+done, the young priest thrust me forward to speak, as was natural, and I
+seemed to be a personage of importance, because I had lived through so
+many perils and had outlived so many. We two were invited to dinner by
+cardinals, and were admitted to a private audience of the Pope.
+Everybody seemed to know what I had done, and even the liberal
+newspapers praised my courage and devotion.
+
+"I had no courage, for being full of vanity, I never confessed my sin.
+But I would not go back to the mission, and when I could leave Rome, I
+left the young priests there and went to Naples to see my father. He
+had read what had been written about me, and was proud of me, and he
+received me gladly, for he loved me and was a devout man. Six years had
+passed since I had seen his wife, and though I trembled when I was just
+about to see her, yet when she entered the room I knew that I did not
+love her any more, and I was very much pleased to find that this sin, at
+least, had left me.
+
+"I lived with them several years, devoting myself to study, and I used
+to say my mass in a church close by. For I was a priest by nature and
+heart, and I had grown so used to my sin of sacrilege, that I shut my
+eyes, and told myself that it was the wish of Heaven. But the truth is,
+I was a coward. It was then that you first knew me and you know how my
+father died and my stepmother married again, and how I undertook to be
+the tutor of poor Bosio Macomer. But with years, the city grew
+distasteful to me, and I wished to be alone, for Bosio was grown up, and
+I had no heart for teaching any one else. I was also very poor, having
+spent what my father left me, both on books, and in other ways of which
+I need not speak because there was nothing wrong in what I did with the
+money.
+
+"And then, Count Macomer--the one who is now insane--offered to make me
+curate of Muro and chaplain of the castle of the Serra, all of which
+you know. And I, accustomed to my wickedness, and feeling myself a
+priest, though I was not one, accepted it for the peace of it.
+
+"It is a very terrible thing. For all the sacraments I have administered
+in these many years have been of no value; but the worst, for its
+consequences, is that none of the many hundreds I have married, are
+truly married, and that if the truth were known to them, the confusion
+would be beyond my power to imagine. But Christians they are, for a
+layman may baptize, even though he be not in a state of grace.
+
+"And for the other sacraments, the sin is all mine, as you see, and God
+will be good to them all, according to the intention and belief they
+had. And now a worse thing has happened, though it was not my fault,
+excepting that the original fault is all mine. For Don Gianluca della
+Spina was lying at the point of death, and there were with him the
+princess and Don Sigismondo Taquisara, the Baron of Guardia, his friend.
+The princess desired to be married to Don Gianluca, before he died, and
+sent for me in great haste and commanded me to marry them. As I raised
+my eyes to speak, for it was impossible to resist her will, the
+Taquisara thought that Don Gianluca was dead and took the princess's
+hand from the dead man's, as he thought, and as I suppose--and I gave
+them the benediction. But when I looked down, it was the Baron of
+Guardia who appeared to have been married to the princess, for their
+right hands were clasped; and I cannot tell whether, if I were a true
+priest, they would have been married or not.
+
+"But the princess and Don Gianluca believe that I made them husband and
+wife, though the Taquisara knows that something was wrong, since he held
+her hand. For Don Gianluca has recovered, and they are now about to have
+a civil marriage and announce it to their friends.
+
+"It was the will of God that my own sin should follow me to the end, and
+that it should be the means of freeing these three persons from their
+terrible position. For the Baron of Guardia believes that he is married
+to the princess, and she believes that she is Don Gianluca's wife. But
+as yet no further harm is done, and the Taquisara is the bravest
+gentleman and the truest man to his friend that ever drew breath.
+Therefore I have made this confession. And I will abide all the
+consequences. The bishop before whom you will lay the case will know
+what is to be done. It will be in his power, I presume, to acquaint the
+princess with the fact that she is not married at all, and must be
+married by a true priest; and to do so, without injuring the poor people
+of Muro who have been the victims of my sin for many years.
+
+"That is my confession. And now, if I have not made all clear to you, I
+beg you to ask me such questions as you think fit, for it is not in
+your power to give me absolution."
+
+Don Teodoro was exhausted. His face sank upon his folded hands on the
+edge of the table, and his shoulders trembled.
+
+"My poor friend! My poor friend!" repeated Don Matteo, in a low and
+wondering tone. "No--it is quite clear," he added. "There is nothing
+which I have not understood. But I can say nothing, my poor friend!
+Pray--pray for forgiveness. God will forgive you, for you have done evil
+only to yourself, and never anything but good to others."
+
+Don Teodoro in a hardly audible voice repeated the second half of the
+'Confiteor' and remained on his knees a little while longer. Don Matteo
+covered his eyes with his hands, and during several minutes there was
+silence. Then the two old men rose and looked at each other for a
+moment.
+
+"Courage!" said Don Matteo, and he gently patted his friend's shoulder.
+
+He took off his stole, folded it carefully, and wrapped it in its clean
+white paper again, before putting it away. But he did that by force of
+habit. Confessors hear strange things sometimes and are not easily
+disconcerted, but Don Teodoro's was the strangest tale that had ever
+come to Don Matteo's ears. Again he came and patted Don Teodoro's
+shoulder in a way of kindly encouragement.
+
+Then he took his three-cornered hat and went out without a word. In
+such a case there was no time to be lost.
+
+Cardinal Campodonico was at that time the archbishop of Naples, and he
+received Don Matteo immediately, for the priest was a man of
+extraordinarily brilliant gifts and well known to the prelate, who liked
+him and had caused him to be made a canon of the cathedral not many
+years earlier.
+
+Don Matteo, as was right in such a position, laid the whole matter
+before him as a theoretical case of conscience, without names, and
+without any useless details which might by any possibility give a clue
+to his real penitent's identity. He stated it all with great clearness
+and force, but he dwelt much upon the spotless life of charity and good
+works which the man had led, in spite of his one chief sin. He knew,
+when Don Teodoro spoke of having spent his father's fortune, that almost
+every penny of it had gone to the poor of Naples in one way or another,
+and he had seen at a glance how his poor friend had in his youth
+exaggerated his boyish admiration for his stepmother. But Don Matteo put
+the main point very clearly before the cardinal--always as a purely
+theoretical case of conscience, asking what a confessor's duty would be
+in such an extremely difficult situation.
+
+The cardinal listened attentively, and then was silent for some time.
+
+"The first thing to be done," he said at last, "would be to make a
+priest of him. He is evidently a man with a vocation, and the chain of
+circumstances which led him into this sin and difficulty is a very
+strange one. I hardly know what to say of it--left alone with savages
+only just converted--well, he was wrong, of course. But the man you
+represent in your theoretical case is supposed to be in all other
+respects almost a holy man."
+
+"Yes, a man of holy life," said Don Matteo, earnestly.
+
+"I do not see how a man of such disposition could have been so lacking
+in courage afterwards," said the cardinal.
+
+"But suppose that it were exactly as I represent the case, Eminence,
+what should the confessor do?"
+
+The cardinal looked into his eyes long and gravely.
+
+"I should think it best to make a priest of him as soon as possible," he
+said at last.
+
+"But how? No bishop could ordain him a priest without knowing his
+story."
+
+"I would ordain him, if he came to me. I think I should be doing right."
+
+"But then your Eminence would know him, and the secret of confession
+would have been betrayed."
+
+"That is true. Let him go to another bishop and tell his story."
+
+"Another bishop might not think as your Eminence does. Besides, the
+question is what the confessor is to do under the circumstances."
+
+The cardinal suddenly rose, went to the broad window, and looked out
+thoughtfully. Don Matteo stood up respectfully, waiting. It seemed to
+him a long time before the prelate turned, and what he did then
+surprised the priest very much, for he went to each of the three doors
+of the room in succession, opened it, looked out, closed it again and
+locked it. Then he came back to Don Matteo.
+
+"Are you, to the best of your belief, in a state of grace, my friend?"
+he asked in a low voice. "Have you no mortal sin on your conscience?
+Reflect well. This is a grave matter."
+
+"I cannot think of any, Eminence," answered the good priest, after a
+moment's pause.
+
+"Very well. We are alone here. The case of conscience you have laid
+before me is a very extraordinary one. I do not wish to know whether it
+has actually come before you in confession. But if it has,--or if it
+should,--I should wish you to be in a position to help that poor man and
+set his life straight, by the grace of God, without injuring him, and,
+above all, without injuring any of those persons to whom he has
+administered the sacraments. I have known you a long time, Don Matteo,
+and I can trust you to make no use of any power I give you, before the
+world. I have the power and the right to consecrate a bishop any priest
+whom I think a fit person. Kneel down here, say the 'Confiteor,' and I
+will lay my hands on you. You could then give the penitent absolution
+and ordain him a priest privately."
+
+Don Matteo started in utmost surprise, and hesitated an instant.
+
+"Kneel down," said the cardinal. "I take this upon myself."
+
+The priest knelt, and the solemn words sounded low in the quiet little
+room, as the archbishop laid his hands upon Don Matteo's grey head. When
+the latter rose, he kissed the cardinal's ring, trembling a little, for
+it had all been very unexpected. The cardinal embraced him in the
+ecclesiastical fashion, and then, to his further amazement, drew off his
+episcopal ring and slipped it upon Don Matteo's finger, took his own
+bishop's cross and chain from his neck and hung it about Don Matteo's
+neck.
+
+"Keep them both in memory of this morning," said the prelate. "But hide
+the chain and the cross under your cassock, for people need not see that
+you are a bishop, when you sit among the canons in church. You know it,
+I know it, your penitent must know it if the case is a real one, and the
+Pope shall know it--but no one else living need ever guess it. Will you
+kindly unlock the doors? Thank you. We will not mention this occurrence
+again, if we can help it. Good morning, Don Matteo--good morning, my
+friend."
+
+When Don Matteo was in the street again, he stood still and passed his
+hand over his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts. His bishop's ring
+touched his forehead, and he realized that it was all true. He had not
+been half an hour in the archbishop's palace, and when he reached his
+own door, he had not been absent an hour from the house.
+
+He found Don Teodoro in the same room and still in the same chair, into
+which he had dropped exhausted when Don Matteo had gone out, his head
+sunk on his breast, his hands clasped despairingly on his knees. As the
+door opened, he looked up with scared eyes, and rose.
+
+"Courage!" exclaimed Don Matteo, patting his shoulder just as he had
+done before going out. "I have seen his Eminence."
+
+Don Teodoro looked at him in mute and resigned expectation, and wondered
+at his cheerful face. But his friend made him sit down again, and told
+him all that had taken place, and then, before Don Teodoro could recover
+his astonishment and emotion, he found himself kneeling on the floor and
+heard the words of absolution spoken softly over him. A moment later he
+felt upon his head the laying of hands and heard those still more
+solemn words pronounced over him, which, he had never hoped to hear
+said for himself.
+
+When he rose to his feet at last, he saw Don Matteo wrapping up the
+bishop's cross and chain and ring in the same piece of clean white paper
+in which he kept the old stole.
+
+But Don Teodoro went to his little room, which was ready for him as
+usual, and he was not seen again on that day. Several times Don Matteo
+went softly to the door. Once he heard the old man sobbing within as
+though his heart would break, all alone; and once again he heard his
+voice saying Latin prayers in a low tone; and the third time all was
+very still, and Don Matteo knew that the worst was past.
+
+On the next morning very early Don Teodoro came out of his room. Neither
+of the two spoke of what had happened, but the clear light was in the
+old priest's eyes again, clearer and happier than before, and little by
+little the lines smoothed themselves from his singular face until there
+were no more there than there had been for years. All that day they
+talked together of books and of Don Teodoro's great history of the
+Church. But they were both thoughtful and subject to moments of absence
+of mind.
+
+It was not until the evening of the third day that Don Teodoro asked his
+friend a question.
+
+"What do you advise me to say to the princess?" he inquired, when they
+were alone together.
+
+"Tell her that you have consulted an ecclesiastical authority and that
+there was an irregularity about the marriage with Don Gianluca so that
+you must solemnly marry them again before they can consider themselves
+man and wife. And tell the Baron of Guardia that the same authority is
+sure that he was not married to the princess, but is a free man. It is
+very simple, and there can be no possible mistake, now."
+
+"Yes," said Don Teodoro. "It is very simple."
+
+And so it was, for Cardinal Campodonico deserved the reputation he
+enjoyed of being, in ecclesiastical affairs, a man equal to the most
+difficult emergencies, in character, in keen discernment, and in prompt
+action.
+
+But Don Teodoro sighed softly when he had spoken, for he thought of
+Taquisara and of what that brave and silent man would suffer when he was
+forced to stand by Gianluca's side and see the rings exchanged and the
+hands joined, and hear the words spoken which must cut him off forever
+from all hope. But Taquisara, at least, in his suffering, would have the
+consolation of having been honest and true and loyal from first to last.
+He would never have to bear the consequences of having been a coward at
+a great moment. It could not be so very hard for him, after all, thought
+Don Teodoro.
+
+And he saw no reason for curtailing his stay in Naples, since there was
+time until the first of January. On the contrary, he grew glad of those
+long days, in which he could meditate on the past and think of the
+future, and be supremely and humbly thankful for the great change that
+had come into his life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+Don Teodoro wrote a few words to Taquisara, embodying what Don. Matteo
+had advised him to say. He added also that matters had not turned out as
+he had expected and that he should return to Muro as usual on the
+twentieth of the month. The Sicilian, read the letter twice and then
+burned it carefully. He was neither surprised nor disappointed by its
+contents, though he had expected that there would be much more
+difficulty in undoing what had been done. There was clearly nothing more
+to be said, as there was most certainly nothing more to hope. Don
+Teodoro had undoubtedly consulted the archbishop of Naples, thought
+Taquisara, and such a decision was final and authoritative.
+
+He had succeeded in forcing himself into a sort of mechanical regularity
+of life which helped him through the day. Gianluca needed him still,
+though less than formerly, and as long as he could be of use, and could
+control his face and voice, he would stay in Muro. Since Veronica had
+fixed the first of January as a limit, he could hardly find an excuse
+for going away during the last three weeks of the time, when he could
+still be of infinite service to his friend on the journey to Naples.
+
+On the whole, he considered himself very little. It was easier to do his
+utmost, and to invent more than his utmost to be done, than it would be
+to live an idle life anywhere else.
+
+Again, as in the early days, he avoided Veronica when he could do so,
+without attracting Gianluca's attention, and Veronica herself kept out
+of his way as much as she could. Without words they had a tacit
+understanding that they would never be left alone together, even for an
+instant.
+
+One day, by chance, going in opposite directions through the house, they
+opened opposite doors of the same room and faced each other
+unexpectedly. For a single instant both paused, and then came forward to
+pass each other. Veronica held her head high and looked straight before
+her, for they had met already on that day, and there was no reason why
+she should speak to him. But Taquisara could not help looking into her
+face, and he saw how hard it tried to be and yet how, in spite of
+herself, it softened almost before she had passed him. He turned and
+glanced at her retreating figure, and her head was bent low, and her
+right hand, hanging by her side, opened and shut twice convulsively, in
+his sight.
+
+He had not dared to suggest to himself until then that she might
+possibly love him, but in the flash of that quick passing he almost knew
+it. Then, before he had closed the door behind him and entered the next
+room, the knowledge was gone, and he cursed himself for the thought, as
+though it had been an insult to her. If he should have to pass her alone
+again, he would rather cut off his right hand than turn and look at her.
+But that one moment, past and gone, had life in it to torment him night
+and day.
+
+Gianluca was no better, and no worse. He wheeled himself about the great
+rooms, and on fine mornings Veronica took him to drive. She read to him,
+played besique with him, fenced with Taquisara to amuse him; she devoted
+herself to him in every way; but as day followed day, she invented all
+sorts of occupations and games which should take the place of
+conversation. Anything was better than talking with him, now; anything
+was better than to hear him say that he loved her, expecting her to
+pronounce the words.
+
+He himself lost heart suddenly.
+
+"I shall never walk again," he said, one afternoon, as they sat together
+in the big room.
+
+The days were very short, for it was mid-December, and the lamps had
+been brought. They had been out in the carriage, and when Taquisara had
+lifted him from his seat, he had made a desperate attempt to move his
+legs, a sudden effort into which he had thrown all the concentrated
+hope and will that were still in him. But there had been neither motion
+nor sensation, and all at once he had felt that it was all over,
+forever.
+
+Veronica looked at him quickly, and he was watching her face. He saw no
+contradiction there of what he had said, but only a little surprise that
+he should have said it.
+
+"You may not be able to walk as soon as we thought," she answered
+gently. "But that is no reason why you should never walk at all."
+
+"I am afraid it is," he said.
+
+She stroked his hand, as she often did, and her eyes wandered from his
+face to the other side of the room, and back again.
+
+"I have been trying very hard to get well," he continued presently.
+"Harder than any one knows."
+
+"I know," Veronica answered. "You are so brave!"
+
+"Brave? No. I am desperate. Do you think I do not know what it must be
+to you, to be tied to a hopeless cripple like me?"
+
+"Tied? I?" She spoke bravely, for it would have been a deadly cruelty
+not to contradict him. "It is for you," she went on. "You must not think
+of me as tied to you, dear, as you call it! I did it gladly, of my own
+free will, and I knew what I was doing."
+
+"Ah no!" he answered sadly. "You could not have known what you were
+doing, then. Your whole life has only saved half of mine."
+
+A chill of fear shot through Veronica's heart.
+
+"Dear," she said anxiously and nervously. "Have I done anything to make
+you talk like this?"
+
+"Yes, love, you have done much," he answered, with a tender, regretful
+look. "No--do not start! I am sorry that you did not understand. It is
+because you do so much, because you give your whole life for my wretched
+existence, because I know what my hours of happiness cost you now and
+will cost you hereafter. That is why I say these things. It would have
+been so much easier and simpler if I had died with my hand in yours,
+that day, when Don Teodoro married us. Veronica--tell me--did he say all
+the words? I fainted, I think."
+
+"Yes," answered Veronica, still pale. "He said all the words."
+
+"And did he give us the benediction?"
+
+"Yes, he gave us the benediction."
+
+Gianluca sighed.
+
+"Then it cannot be undone, dear," he said softly. "You must forgive me."
+
+"I would not have it undone, Gianluca."
+
+And before that great unselfishness, Veronica bowed her head down, until
+her lips kissed his hands. But as she touched them, she heard the door
+open, and instantly she was erect again, and trying to smile. Taquisara
+came in.
+
+Veronica rose, for she felt that she could not sit still by Gianluca's
+side, with his words in her ear, her own scarcely cold upon her lips,
+and the man for whom she would have given her soul's salvation, who
+would have died ten deaths for her, standing quietly there, looking on.
+She walked nervously up and down the room.
+
+"Should you like to fence?" asked Taquisara. "We have not touched a foil
+to-day."
+
+Anything seemed good which could pass the time without talking. But to
+her it seemed heartless just then.
+
+"No," she answered, almost curtly. "It seems to me that we are always
+fencing."
+
+But Gianluca understood why she refused. And to him, perhaps, anything
+was better than thinking.
+
+"Please do!" he said. "I enjoy it so much!"
+
+Mechanically and without a word, she went to the corner where the foils
+and other things were kept in a great carved chest.
+
+Taquisara moved a large table out of the way, pushing it slowly before
+him.
+
+"Do you think you can see? Or shall we have more lamps?" asked Veronica.
+
+"I can see very well--as well as one can, by lamp-light," answered
+Taquisara, as he placed the lamps together upon the table, so that the
+light should fall sideways upon them when they fenced.
+
+Veronica was glad to slip her mask over her face, just then. She was
+conscious of the fact when she had done it, though she hardly knew what
+she was doing as she took a foil from the long chest and stepped out
+into the room to meet Taquisara. Then, as he raised his arm to engage
+and she still held her foil down, her habitual interest in the amusement
+momentarily asserted itself.
+
+"Shall we try that feint of yours that you were doing the other day?"
+she asked. "You know, you touched me with it. I think I can meet it now,
+for I have been thinking about it."
+
+"Yes, try it!" said Gianluca, from his chair.
+
+"Certainly," answered Taquisara.
+
+Instantly, both fell into position and engaged. Barely crossing foils,
+Taquisara executed the feint in question at once, and lunged his fullest
+length. But Veronica had thought out the right parry and answer, and was
+quicker than he.
+
+His weapon ran past her head without touching her, and as he recovered
+himself, hers shot out after him. He uttered an exclamation as it ran
+under his arm, with a little soft resistance.
+
+"Touched!" cried Veronica, at the same instant.
+
+He said nothing. Then, a second later, she uttered a sharp cry of
+horror, dropped her foil upon the floor and raising her mask stared at
+him with wild, white face. Not heeding what she did, she had taken the
+sharp foil by mistake. It was dark in the corner where the chest stood.
+
+"It is nothing," he said. "It is nothing, I assure you."
+
+"What is the matter?" asked Gianluca, in astonishment, for he could not
+see that the foil had no button.
+
+But Veronica did not answer him. She was close to Taquisara now,
+clutching his arm with both hands and staring at the wire mask which
+covered his face.
+
+"You are hurt! I know you are hurt!" she said, in a voice faint with
+fear.
+
+"Oh no!" he answered, with a short laugh. "I was a little surprised.
+Take another foil. It is nothing, I assure you."
+
+"I know you are hurt," she repeated. "Oh God! I might have killed you--"
+
+She felt dizzy, and sick with horror, and she clung to his arm, now, for
+support.
+
+"Do you mean to say that you had the sharp foil?" asked Gianluca,
+beginning to understand.
+
+"It is nothing at all," said Taquisara. "It ran through my jacket, just
+under the arm. It did not touch me."
+
+"It might have run through you," said Gianluca, gravely. "It might have
+killed you."
+
+"Oh--please--please--" cried Veronica, still clinging to Taquisara's
+arm and turning her pale face to Gianluca.
+
+He looked on, and his face changed. There was something in her attitude,
+just for a few seconds, in her ghastly pallor, in the tones of her
+voice, that went through Gianluca like a knife. The dreadful instinctive
+certainty that she loved the man she had so nearly killed, took
+possession of him in a dark prevision of terror. Veronica was strong and
+brave, but it would have been strange indeed if she had shown nothing of
+what she felt.
+
+It did not last long, and perhaps she knew what she had shown, for she
+dropped Taquisara's arm, and the colour rushed to her face as she
+stooped and picked up the foil with the green hilt. The hilts of the
+others were blue, like those of many Neapolitan foils, and in the
+lamp-light she could hardly distinguish the difference.
+
+With sudden anger Veronica set her foot upon the steel and bent it up,
+trying to break it. She could not, for it was of soft temper, but she
+bent it out of all shape, so as to be useless.
+
+She forced herself to take another, and they fenced again for a few
+minutes. Gianluca watched them at first, but soon his head fell back,
+and he stared at the ceiling. Death had entered into his soul. He had
+guessed half the truth. But in the state in which he was on that
+evening, and after what had passed between him and Veronica, the
+suspicion alone would have been enough. Nothing could have saved him
+from it, since it was indeed the truth. Such passionate, strong love
+could only hide itself so long as it lived in the even, unchanging light
+of monotonous days. In the flash of a danger, a terror, a violent
+chance, its shape stood out for an instant and was not to be mistaken.
+
+Gianluca scarcely spoke again on that evening. The next morning, before
+he left his own room, Taquisara was with him, walking up and down and
+smoking while Gianluca drank his coffee. They had been discussing the
+accident of the previous evening, and Taquisara had laughed over it. But
+Gianluca was sad and grave.
+
+"I wish to ask you a question," he said, after a short silence. "When I
+fainted, that day--did Don Teodoro pronounce all the proper words? You
+must have heard him. Was it a real marriage, without any defect of
+form?"
+
+Taquisara stopped in his walk and hesitated. After all, since Don
+Teodoro had written to him that the marriage must be performed again, it
+was much better that Gianluca should be prepared for it, since he
+himself had put the question.
+
+"Since you ask me," answered Taquisara, after a moment's thought, "I may
+as well tell you what I know. After it was done, both Don Teodoro and I
+had doubts as to whether the marriage were perfectly valid, and he
+determined to consult a bishop. I suppose that he has done so, for he
+has written to me about it. He says that the ecclesiastical authority
+before whom the matter was laid declares that there were informalities,
+and that you must be married again. You see, in the first place, there
+were no banns published in church, and there was no permission from the
+bishop to omit publishing them. But, of course, that might be set aside.
+I fancy that the real trouble may have been that you were unconscious.
+At all events, it is a very simple matter to be married again."
+
+"In other words, it is no marriage at all. I thought so--I thought so."
+Gianluca repeated the words slowly and sadly.
+
+"What does it matter?" asked Taquisara, turning away and walking again.
+"It is a question of five minutes. I should think that you would be
+glad--"
+
+"Yes--perhaps I am glad," said Gianluca, so low that the words were
+scarcely an interruption.
+
+"Because you can be married in your full senses," continued Taquisara,
+bravely, "with your father and mother beside you, and all the rest of
+it."
+
+Gianluca said nothing to this, and again there was a short silence. Just
+as Taquisara came to the table in his walk, Gianluca spoke again.
+
+"Stop a moment," he said. "Look at me, Taquisara. If you were in my
+place, what would you do?"
+
+Their eyes met, and Gianluca saw the quick effort of the other's
+features, controlling themselves, as though he had been struck unawares.
+
+"I?" exclaimed Taquisara, taken entirely off his guard. "If I were in
+your place? Why--" he recovered himself--"I should get married again, as
+soon as possible, of course. What else should any one do?"
+
+But the bold eyes for once looked down a little, their steadiness
+broken.
+
+"You would do nothing of the sort," said Gianluca.
+
+"What do you mean?" Again Taquisara started almost imperceptibly, and
+his brows contracted as he looked up sharply.
+
+"If you were in my place," said Gianluca, "you would cut your throat
+rather than ruin the life of the woman you loved, by tying your misery
+to her for life, a load for her to carry."
+
+"Do not say such things!" exclaimed the Sicilian, turning suddenly from
+the table and resuming his walk. "You are mad!"
+
+"No--not mad. But not cowardly either. There is not much left of me, but
+what there is shall not be afraid. I am not truly married to her. I will
+not be. I will not die with that on my soul."
+
+"Gianluca--for God's sake do not say such things!" Taquisara turned upon
+him, staring.
+
+He sat in his deep chair, his fair angel head thrown back, the dark blue
+eyes bright, brave, and daring--all the rest, dead.
+
+"I say them, and I mean them," he answered. "I love her very much. I
+love her enough for that. I love her more than you do."
+
+"Than I?" Taquisara's voice almost broke, as the blow struck him, but
+there was no fear in his eyes either. He drew a breath then, and spoke
+strong words. "Now may Christ forget me in the hour of death, if I have
+not been true to you!"
+
+"And me and mine if I blast your life and hers," came back the
+unflinching answer.
+
+A deep silence fell upon them both. At last Gianluca spoke again, and
+his voice sank to another tone.
+
+"She loves you, too," he said.
+
+"Loves me?" cried Taquisara, his brows suddenly close bent. "Oh no!
+Unsay that, or--no--Gianluca--how dare you even dream the right to say
+that of your wife?"
+
+It was beyond his strength to bear.
+
+"She is not my wife," said Gianluca. "You have told me so--she is not my
+wife. She has done what no other living woman could have done, to be my
+wife and to love me. But she is not my wife, and what I say is true, and
+right as well, your right and hers.
+
+"No--not that--not hers." Taquisara turned half round, against the
+table, where he stood, and his voice was low and broken.
+
+"Yes, hers. You will know it soon--when I have taken my love to my
+grave, and left her yours on earth."
+
+"Gianluca!"
+
+Taquisara could not speak, beyond that, but he laid his hand upon his
+friend's arm and clutched it, as though to hold him back. His dark eyes
+darkened, and in them were the terrible tears that strong men shed once
+in life, and sometimes once again, but very seldom more.
+
+Gianluca's thin fingers folded upon the hand that held him.
+
+"You have been very true to me," he said. "She will be quite safe with
+you."
+
+For a long time they were both silent. It began to rain, and the big
+drops beat against the windows, melancholy as the muffled drum of a
+funeral march, and the grey morning light grew still more dim.
+
+"I will not go into the other room just yet," said Gianluca, quietly. "I
+would rather be alone for a little while."
+
+Their eyes met once more, and Taquisara went away without a word.
+
+That had been almost the last act of the strange tragedy of love and
+death which had been lived out in slow scenes during those many weeks.
+It was needful that it should come, and inevitable, soon or late. It
+began when Gianluca made that one last desperate effort to move, in
+sudden certainty of hope that ended in the instant foreknowledge of what
+was to be. A little thing swayed him then--such a little thing as the
+accident of a sharp foil, a rent in a jacket, the woman's blinding fear
+for the man she loved. There are many arrows in fate's quiver, and the
+little ones are as keen as the long shafts, and quicker to find the
+tender mark.
+
+The man was born to suffer, but he had in him that something divine by
+which martyrs made death the witness of life and turned despair of earth
+to sure hope of heaven.
+
+He had ever been a man tender and gentle. His nature did not fail him
+now. With exquisite devotion and thought for Veronica's happiness, and
+with a love for her that penetrated the short future of near death, he
+would not say to her what he had said to Taquisara. He would not let one
+breath of doubt disturb her only satisfaction while he still lived, nor
+trouble her with the least fear lest she had not done all her fullest to
+give him happiness while she could. In the end, it was his love that cut
+short his living, and no one knew what hours and days and nights of pain
+he bore, till the end came. He made of his love and his death a way for
+her life. She had given him all she had. He gave it back to her a
+hundred-fold, but she should not know, while he lived, that her great
+gift had not been to him more than she could make it, all that she
+wished it might be, all that she knew it was not.
+
+He had not far to carry his burden; but except his friend, no one should
+know the heaviness of his heart, neither his father nor his mother, and
+least of all, Veronica. He could not hide that he was dying, but he
+could hide the cost of it, and its bitterness. After that day, his life
+went from him, as the strength falls away from a ship's sails when the
+breeze is softly dying on a summer's evening. In fear Veronica watched
+him, and in fear she met Taquisara's eyes. In the long nights, when it
+rained and there was no moon, the darkness of death's wings was in the
+air, and she held her breath, alone in her dim room.
+
+They all knew it, and none said it, though shadow answered shadow in one
+another's faces when they met. It was as though another element than air
+had descended amongst them, dull, unresonant, hushing word and tread.
+
+For each life we love is a sun, in our lives that would be dark if there
+were no love in them, and when it goes down to its setting in our
+hearts, the last light of love's day is very deep and tender, as no
+other is after it, and the passionate, sad twilight of regret deepens
+to a darkness of great loneliness over all, until our tears are wept,
+and our souls take of our mortal selves memories of love undying.
+
+The end came soon, in the night, for it was his will to live that had
+kept him with them so long. Taquisara was with him. One by one the
+others came, hastily muffled and wrapped in dark robes, for the night
+was cold and damp even within doors. One after another they came, and
+they stood and knelt beside him on the right and left. He spoke to them
+all,--to his father and his mother first, for he felt the tide ebbing.
+With streaming eyes Veronica bent down and looked for the fading light
+in his, through her fast-falling tears. And close to her his mother
+stretched out weak hands that trembled with every breaking sob. His
+father knelt there, burying his face against the pillow, shaking all
+over, his arms hanging down loose and helpless by his sides, bent,
+bowed, crushed, as a weak old lion, stricken in age and cruelly wounded
+to death. And above them all, Taquisara's sad, deep-chiselled face
+looked down, as the face of a bronze statue beside a grave. Without, the
+winter's rain beat a low dead-march on the great windows, and the
+southwest wind sighed out its vast breath along the castle walls.
+
+It was long since he had spoken, and they thought that they should never
+hear his voice again. But still the last light lingered in his eyes.
+Very little was left for him to do.
+
+He moved Veronica's right hand, that was in his, drawing it a little,
+and she let it move; and his other held Taquisara's, and he drew it
+also, they yielding, till the two touched, and at his dying will clasped
+one another. Then he smiled faintly, his last smile on earth. And as it
+faded forever, there came back to them from beyond all pain the words of
+his blessing upon their two strong young lives.
+
+"Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus--" and the angels heard the rest.
+
+Thus died Gianluca della Spina.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Taquisara, by F. Marion Crawford
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