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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: Roderick Hudson + +Author: Henry James + +Release Date: March 12, 2006 [EBook #176] +Last Updated: September 18, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RODERICK HUDSON *** + + + + +Produced by Judy Boss and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + RODERICK HUDSON + </h1> + <h2> + by Henry James + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + Rowland + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + Roderick + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + Rome + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + Experience + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + Christina + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + Frascati + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + Saint Cecilia’s + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + Provocation + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + Mary Garland + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Cavaliere + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + Mrs. Hudson + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Princess Casamassima + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + Switzerland + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. Rowland + </h2> + <p> + Mallet had made his arrangements to sail for Europe on the first of + September, and having in the interval a fortnight to spare, he determined + to spend it with his cousin Cecilia, the widow of a nephew of his father. + He was urged by the reflection that an affectionate farewell might help to + exonerate him from the charge of neglect frequently preferred by this + lady. It was not that the young man disliked her; on the contrary, he + regarded her with a tender admiration, and he had not forgotten how, when + his cousin had brought her home on her marriage, he had seemed to feel the + upward sweep of the empty bough from which the golden fruit had been + plucked, and had then and there accepted the prospect of bachelorhood. The + truth was, that, as it will be part of the entertainment of this narrative + to exhibit, Rowland Mallet had an uncomfortably sensitive conscience, and + that, in spite of the seeming paradox, his visits to Cecilia were rare + because she and her misfortunes were often uppermost in it. Her + misfortunes were three in number: first, she had lost her husband; second, + she had lost her money (or the greater part of it); and third, she lived + at Northampton, Massachusetts. Mallet’s compassion was really wasted, + because Cecilia was a very clever woman, and a most skillful + counter-plotter to adversity. She had made herself a charming home, her + economies were not obtrusive, and there was always a cheerful flutter in + the folds of her crape. It was the consciousness of all this that puzzled + Mallet whenever he felt tempted to put in his oar. He had money and he had + time, but he never could decide just how to place these gifts gracefully + at Cecilia’s service. He no longer felt like marrying her: in these eight + years that fancy had died a natural death. And yet her extreme cleverness + seemed somehow to make charity difficult and patronage impossible. He + would rather chop off his hand than offer her a check, a piece of useful + furniture, or a black silk dress; and yet there was some sadness in seeing + such a bright, proud woman living in such a small, dull way. Cecilia had, + moreover, a turn for sarcasm, and her smile, which was her pretty feature, + was never so pretty as when her sprightly phrase had a lurking scratch in + it. Rowland remembered that, for him, she was all smiles, and suspected, + awkwardly, that he ministered not a little to her sense of the irony of + things. And in truth, with his means, his leisure, and his opportunities, + what had he done? He had an unaffected suspicion of his uselessness. + Cecilia, meanwhile, cut out her own dresses, and was personally giving her + little girl the education of a princess. + </p> + <p> + This time, however, he presented himself bravely enough; for in the way of + activity it was something definite, at least, to be going to Europe and to + be meaning to spend the winter in Rome. Cecilia met him in the early dusk + at the gate of her little garden, amid a studied combination of floral + perfumes. A rosy widow of twenty-eight, half cousin, half hostess, doing + the honors of an odorous cottage on a midsummer evening, was a phenomenon + to which the young man’s imagination was able to do ample justice. Cecilia + was always gracious, but this evening she was almost joyous. She was in a + happy mood, and Mallet imagined there was a private reason for it—a + reason quite distinct from her pleasure in receiving her honored kinsman. + The next day he flattered himself he was on the way to discover it. + </p> + <p> + For the present, after tea, as they sat on the rose-framed porch, while + Rowland held his younger cousin between his knees, and she, enjoying her + situation, listened timorously for the stroke of bedtime, Cecilia insisted + on talking more about her visitor than about herself. + </p> + <p> + “What is it you mean to do in Europe?” she asked, lightly, giving a turn + to the frill of her sleeve—just such a turn as seemed to Mallet to + bring out all the latent difficulties of the question. + </p> + <p> + “Why, very much what I do here,” he answered. “No great harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it true,” Cecilia asked, “that here you do no great harm? Is not a man + like you doing harm when he is not doing positive good?” + </p> + <p> + “Your compliment is ambiguous,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered the widow, “you know what I think of you. You have a + particular aptitude for beneficence. You have it in the first place in + your character. You are a benevolent person. Ask Bessie if you don’t hold + her more gently and comfortably than any of her other admirers.” + </p> + <p> + “He holds me more comfortably than Mr. Hudson,” Bessie declared, roundly. + </p> + <p> + Rowland, not knowing Mr. Hudson, could but half appreciate the eulogy, and + Cecilia went on to develop her idea. “Your circumstances, in the second + place, suggest the idea of social usefulness. You are intelligent, you are + well-informed, and your charity, if one may call it charity, would be + discriminating. You are rich and unoccupied, so that it might be abundant. + Therefore, I say, you are a person to do something on a large scale. + Bestir yourself, dear Rowland, or we may be taught to think that virtue + herself is setting a bad example.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid,” cried Rowland, “that I should set the examples of virtue! + I am quite willing to follow them, however, and if I don’t do something on + the grand scale, it is that my genius is altogether imitative, and that I + have not recently encountered any very striking models of grandeur. Pray, + what shall I do? Found an orphan asylum, or build a dormitory for Harvard + College? I am not rich enough to do either in an ideally handsome way, and + I confess that, yet awhile, I feel too young to strike my grand coup. I am + holding myself ready for inspiration. I am waiting till something takes my + fancy irresistibly. If inspiration comes at forty, it will be a hundred + pities to have tied up my money-bag at thirty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I give you till forty,” said Cecilia. “It ‘s only a word to the + wise, a notification that you are expected not to run your course without + having done something handsome for your fellow-men.” + </p> + <p> + Nine o’clock sounded, and Bessie, with each stroke, courted a closer + embrace. But a single winged word from her mother overleaped her + successive intrenchments. She turned and kissed her cousin, and deposited + an irrepressible tear on his moustache. Then she went and said her prayers + to her mother: it was evident she was being admirably brought up. Rowland, + with the permission of his hostess, lighted a cigar and puffed it awhile + in silence. Cecilia’s interest in his career seemed very agreeable. That + Mallet was without vanity I by no means intend to affirm; but there had + been times when, seeing him accept, hardly less deferentially, advice even + more peremptory than the widow’s, you might have asked yourself what had + become of his vanity. Now, in the sweet-smelling starlight, he felt gently + wooed to egotism. There was a project connected with his going abroad + which it was on his tongue’s end to communicate. It had no relation to + hospitals or dormitories, and yet it would have sounded very generous. But + it was not because it would have sounded generous that poor Mallet at last + puffed it away in the fumes of his cigar. Useful though it might be, it + expressed most imperfectly the young man’s own personal conception of + usefulness. He was extremely fond of all the arts, and he had an almost + passionate enjoyment of pictures. He had seen many, and he judged them + sagaciously. It had occurred to him some time before that it would be the + work of a good citizen to go abroad and with all expedition and secrecy + purchase certain valuable specimens of the Dutch and Italian schools as to + which he had received private proposals, and then present his treasures + out of hand to an American city, not unknown to aesthetic fame, in which + at that time there prevailed a good deal of fruitless aspiration toward an + art-museum. He had seen himself in imagination, more than once, in some + mouldy old saloon of a Florentine palace, turning toward the deep + embrasure of the window some scarcely-faded Ghirlandaio or Botticelli, + while a host in reduced circumstances pointed out the lovely drawing of a + hand. But he imparted none of these visions to Cecilia, and he suddenly + swept them away with the declaration that he was of course an idle, + useless creature, and that he would probably be even more so in Europe + than at home. “The only thing is,” he said, “that there I shall seem to be + doing something. I shall be better entertained, and shall be therefore, I + suppose, in a better humor with life. You may say that that is just the + humor a useless man should keep out of. He should cultivate + discontentment. I did a good many things when I was in Europe before, but + I did not spend a winter in Rome. Every one assures me that this is a + peculiar refinement of bliss; most people talk about Rome in the same way. + It is evidently only a sort of idealized form of loafing: a passive life + in Rome, thanks to the number and the quality of one’s impressions, takes + on a very respectable likeness to activity. It is still lotus-eating, only + you sit down at table, and the lotuses are served up on rococo china. It + ‘s all very well, but I have a distinct prevision of this—that if + Roman life does n’t do something substantial to make you happier, it + increases tenfold your liability to moral misery. It seems to me a rash + thing for a sensitive soul deliberately to cultivate its sensibilities by + rambling too often among the ruins of the Palatine, or riding too often in + the shadow of the aqueducts. In such recreations the chords of feeling + grow tense, and after-life, to spare your intellectual nerves, must play + upon them with a touch as dainty as the tread of Mignon when she danced + her egg-dance.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have said, my dear Rowland,” said Cecilia, with a laugh, “that + your nerves were tough, that your eggs were hard!” + </p> + <p> + “That being stupid, you mean, I might be happy? Upon my word I am not. I + am clever enough to want more than I ‘ve got. I am tired of myself, my own + thoughts, my own affairs, my own eternal company. True happiness, we are + told, consists in getting out of one’s self; but the point is not only to + get out—you must stay out; and to stay out you must have some + absorbing errand. Unfortunately, I ‘ve got no errand, and nobody will + trust me with one. I want to care for something, or for some one. And I + want to care with a certain ardor; even, if you can believe it, with a + certain passion. I can’t just now feel ardent and passionate about a + hospital or a dormitory. Do you know I sometimes think that I ‘m a man of + genius, half finished? The genius has been left out, the faculty of + expression is wanting; but the need for expression remains, and I spend my + days groping for the latch of a closed door.” + </p> + <p> + “What an immense number of words,” said Cecilia after a pause, “to say you + want to fall in love! I ‘ve no doubt you have as good a genius for that as + any one, if you would only trust it.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I ‘ve thought of that, and I assure you I hold myself ready. + But, evidently, I ‘m not inflammable. Is there in Northampton some perfect + epitome of the graces?” + </p> + <p> + “Of the graces?” said Cecilia, raising her eyebrows and suppressing too + distinct a consciousness of being herself a rosy embodiment of several. + “The household virtues are better represented. There are some excellent + girls, and there are two or three very pretty ones. I will have them here, + one by one, to tea, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “I should particularly like it; especially as I should give you a chance + to see, by the profundity of my attention, that if I am not happy, it ‘s + not for want of taking pains.” + </p> + <p> + Cecilia was silent a moment; and then, “On the whole,” she resumed, “I + don’t think there are any worth asking. There are none so very pretty, + none so very pleasing.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you very sure?” asked the young man, rising and throwing away his + cigar-end. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” cried Cecilia, “one would suppose I wished to keep you for + myself. Of course I am sure! But as the penalty of your insinuations, I + shall invite the plainest and prosiest damsel that can be found, and leave + you alone with her.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland smiled. “Even against her,” he said, “I should be sorry to + conclude until I had given her my respectful attention.” + </p> + <p> + This little profession of ideal chivalry (which closed the conversation) + was not quite so fanciful on Mallet’s lips as it would have been on those + of many another man; as a rapid glance at his antecedents may help to make + the reader perceive. His life had been a singular mixture of the rough and + the smooth. He had sprung from a rigid Puritan stock, and had been brought + up to think much more intently of the duties of this life than of its + privileges and pleasures. His progenitors had submitted in the matter of + dogmatic theology to the relaxing influences of recent years; but if + Rowland’s youthful consciousness was not chilled by the menace of long + punishment for brief transgression, he had at least been made to feel that + there ran through all things a strain of right and of wrong, as different, + after all, in their complexions, as the texture, to the spiritual sense, + of Sundays and week-days. His father was a chip of the primal Puritan + block, a man with an icy smile and a stony frown. He had always bestowed + on his son, on principle, more frowns than smiles, and if the lad had not + been turned to stone himself, it was because nature had blessed him, + inwardly, with a well of vivifying waters. Mrs. Mallet had been a Miss + Rowland, the daughter of a retired sea-captain, once famous on the ships + that sailed from Salem and Newburyport. He had brought to port many a + cargo which crowned the edifice of fortunes already almost colossal, but + he had also done a little sagacious trading on his own account, and he was + able to retire, prematurely for so sea-worthy a maritime organism, upon a + pension of his own providing. He was to be seen for a year on the Salem + wharves, smoking the best tobacco and eying the seaward horizon with an + inveteracy which superficial minds interpreted as a sign of repentance. At + last, one evening, he disappeared beneath it, as he had often done before; + this time, however, not as a commissioned navigator, but simply as an + amateur of an observing turn likely to prove oppressive to the officer in + command of the vessel. Five months later his place at home knew him again, + and made the acquaintance also of a handsome, blonde young woman, of + redundant contours, speaking a foreign tongue. The foreign tongue proved, + after much conflicting research, to be the idiom of Amsterdam, and the + young woman, which was stranger still, to be Captain Rowland’s wife. Why + he had gone forth so suddenly across the seas to marry her, what had + happened between them before, and whether—though it was of + questionable propriety for a good citizen to espouse a young person of + mysterious origin, who did her hair in fantastically elaborate plaits, and + in whose appearance “figure” enjoyed such striking predominance—he + would not have had a heavy weight on his conscience if he had remained an + irresponsible bachelor; these questions and many others, bearing with + varying degrees of immediacy on the subject, were much propounded but + scantily answered, and this history need not be charged with resolving + them. Mrs. Rowland, for so handsome a woman, proved a tranquil neighbor + and an excellent housewife. Her extremely fresh complexion, however, was + always suffused with an air of apathetic homesickness, and she played her + part in American society chiefly by having the little squares of brick + pavement in front of her dwelling scoured and polished as nearly as + possible into the likeness of Dutch tiles. Rowland Mallet remembered + having seen her, as a child—an immensely stout, white-faced lady, + wearing a high cap of very stiff tulle, speaking English with a formidable + accent, and suffering from dropsy. Captain Rowland was a little bronzed + and wizened man, with eccentric opinions. He advocated the creation of a + public promenade along the sea, with arbors and little green tables for + the consumption of beer, and a platform, surrounded by Chinese lanterns, + for dancing. He especially desired the town library to be opened on + Sundays, though, as he never entered it on week-days, it was easy to turn + the proposition into ridicule. If, therefore, Mrs. Mallet was a woman of + an exquisite moral tone, it was not that she had inherited her temper from + an ancestry with a turn for casuistry. Jonas Mallet, at the time of his + marriage, was conducting with silent shrewdness a small, unpromising + business. Both his shrewdness and his silence increased with his years, + and at the close of his life he was an extremely well-dressed, + well-brushed gentleman, with a frigid gray eye, who said little to + anybody, but of whom everybody said that he had a very handsome fortune. + He was not a sentimental father, and the roughness I just now spoke of in + Rowland’s life dated from his early boyhood. Mr. Mallet, whenever he + looked at his son, felt extreme compunction at having made a fortune. He + remembered that the fruit had not dropped ripe from the tree into his own + mouth, and determined it should be no fault of his if the boy was + corrupted by luxury. Rowland, therefore, except for a good deal of + expensive instruction in foreign tongues and abstruse sciences, received + the education of a poor man’s son. His fare was plain, his temper familiar + with the discipline of patched trousers, and his habits marked by an + exaggerated simplicity which it really cost a good deal of money to + preserve unbroken. He was kept in the country for months together, in the + midst of servants who had strict injunctions to see that he suffered no + serious harm, but were as strictly forbidden to wait upon him. As no + school could be found conducted on principles sufficiently rigorous, he + was attended at home by a master who set a high price on the understanding + that he was to illustrate the beauty of abstinence not only by precept but + by example. Rowland passed for a child of ordinary parts, and certainly, + during his younger years, was an excellent imitation of a boy who had + inherited nothing whatever that was to make life easy. He was passive, + pliable, frank, extremely slow at his books, and inordinately fond of + trout-fishing. His hair, a memento of his Dutch ancestry, was of the + fairest shade of yellow, his complexion absurdly rosy, and his measurement + around the waist, when he was about ten years old, quite alarmingly large. + This, however, was but an episode in his growth; he became afterwards a + fresh-colored, yellow-bearded man, but he was never accused of anything + worse than a tendency to corpulence. He emerged from childhood a simple, + wholesome, round-eyed lad, with no suspicion that a less roundabout course + might have been taken to make him happy, but with a vague sense that his + young experience was not a fair sample of human freedom, and that he was + to make a great many discoveries. When he was about fifteen, he achieved a + momentous one. He ascertained that his mother was a saint. She had always + been a very distinct presence in his life, but so ineffably gentle a one + that his sense was fully opened to it only by the danger of losing her. + She had an illness which for many months was liable at any moment to + terminate fatally, and during her long-arrested convalescence she removed + the mask which she had worn for years by her husband’s order. Rowland + spent his days at her side and felt before long as if he had made a new + friend. All his impressions at this period were commented and interpreted + at leisure in the future, and it was only then that he understood that his + mother had been for fifteen years a perfectly unhappy woman. Her marriage + had been an immitigable error which she had spent her life in trying to + look straight in the face. She found nothing to oppose to her husband’s + will of steel but the appearance of absolute compliance; her spirit sank, + and she lived for a while in a sort of helpless moral torpor. But at last, + as her child emerged from babyhood, she began to feel a certain charm in + patience, to discover the uses of ingenuity, and to learn that, somehow or + other, one can always arrange one’s life. She cultivated from this time + forward a little private plot of sentiment, and it was of this secluded + precinct that, before her death, she gave her son the key. Rowland’s + allowance at college was barely sufficient to maintain him decently, and + as soon as he graduated, he was taken into his father’s counting-house, to + do small drudgery on a proportionate salary. For three years he earned his + living as regularly as the obscure functionary in fustian who swept the + office. Mr. Mallet was consistent, but the perfection of his consistency + was known only on his death. He left but a third of his property to his + son, and devoted the remainder to various public institutions and local + charities. Rowland’s third was an easy competence, and he never felt a + moment’s jealousy of his fellow-pensioners; but when one of the + establishments which had figured most advantageously in his father’s will + bethought itself to affirm the existence of a later instrument, in which + it had been still more handsomely treated, the young man felt a sudden + passionate need to repel the claim by process of law. There was a lively + tussle, but he gained his case; immediately after which he made, in + another quarter, a donation of the contested sum. He cared nothing for the + money, but he had felt an angry desire to protest against a destiny which + seemed determined to be exclusively salutary. It seemed to him that he + would bear a little spoiling. And yet he treated himself to a very modest + quantity, and submitted without reserve to the great national discipline + which began in 1861. When the Civil War broke out he immediately obtained + a commission, and did his duty for three long years as a citizen soldier. + His duty was obscure, but he never lost a certain private satisfaction in + remembering that on two or three occasions it had been performed with + something of an ideal precision. He had disentangled himself from + business, and after the war he felt a profound disinclination to tie the + knot again. He had no desire to make money, he had money enough; and + although he knew, and was frequently reminded, that a young man is the + better for a fixed occupation, he could discover no moral advantage in + driving a lucrative trade. Yet few young men of means and leisure ever + made less of a parade of idleness, and indeed idleness in any degree could + hardly be laid at the door of a young man who took life in the serious, + attentive, reasoning fashion of our friend. It often seemed to Mallet that + he wholly lacked the prime requisite of a graceful flaneur—the + simple, sensuous, confident relish of pleasure. He had frequent fits of + extreme melancholy, in which he declared that he was neither fish nor + flesh nor good red herring. He was neither an irresponsibly contemplative + nature nor a sturdily practical one, and he was forever looking in vain + for the uses of the things that please and the charm of the things that + sustain. He was an awkward mixture of strong moral impulse and restless + aesthetic curiosity, and yet he would have made a most ineffective + reformer and a very indifferent artist. It seemed to him that the glow of + happiness must be found either in action, of some immensely solid kind, on + behalf of an idea, or in producing a masterpiece in one of the arts. + Oftenest, perhaps, he wished he were a vigorous young man of genius, + without a penny. As it was, he could only buy pictures, and not paint + them; and in the way of action, he had to content himself with making a + rule to render scrupulous moral justice to handsome examples of it in + others. On the whole, he had an incorruptible modesty. With his blooming + complexion and his serene gray eye, he felt the friction of existence more + than was suspected; but he asked no allowance on grounds of temper, he + assumed that fate had treated him inordinately well and that he had no + excuse for taking an ill-natured view of life, and he undertook constantly + to believe that all women were fair, all men were brave, and the world was + a delightful place of sojourn, until the contrary had been distinctly + proved. + </p> + <p> + Cecilia’s blooming garden and shady porch had seemed so friendly to repose + and a cigar, that she reproached him the next morning with indifference to + her little parlor, not less, in its way, a monument to her ingenious + taste. “And by the way,” she added as he followed her in, “if I refused + last night to show you a pretty girl, I can at least show you a pretty + boy.” + </p> + <p> + She threw open a window and pointed to a statuette which occupied the + place of honor among the ornaments of the room. Rowland looked at it a + moment and then turned to her with an exclamation of surprise. She gave + him a rapid glance, perceived that her statuette was of altogether + exceptional merit, and then smiled, knowingly, as if this had long been an + agreeable certainty. + </p> + <p> + “Who did it? where did you get it?” Rowland demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Cecilia, adjusting the light, “it ‘s a little thing of Mr. + Hudson’s.” + </p> + <p> + “And who the deuce is Mr. Hudson?” asked Rowland. But he was absorbed; he + lost her immediate reply. The statuette, in bronze, something less than + two feet high, represented a naked youth drinking from a gourd. The + attitude was perfectly simple. The lad was squarely planted on his feet, + with his legs a little apart; his back was slightly hollowed, his head + thrown back, and both hands raised to support the rustic cup. There was a + loosened fillet of wild flowers about his head, and his eyes, under their + drooped lids, looked straight into the cup. On the base was scratched the + Greek word Δἱψα, Thirst. The figure might have been + some beautiful youth of ancient fable,—Hylas or Narcissus, Paris or + Endymion. Its beauty was the beauty of natural movement; nothing had been + sought to be represented but the perfection of an attitude. This had been + most attentively studied, and it was exquisitely rendered. Rowland + demanded more light, dropped his head on this side and that, uttered vague + exclamations. He said to himself, as he had said more than once in the + Louvre and the Vatican, “We ugly mortals, what beautiful creatures we + are!” Nothing, in a long time, had given him so much pleasure. “Hudson—Hudson,” + he asked again; “who is Hudson?” + </p> + <p> + “A young man of this place,” said Cecilia. + </p> + <p> + “A young man? How old?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he is three or four and twenty.” + </p> + <p> + “Of this place, you say—of Northampton, Massachusetts?” + </p> + <p> + “He lives here, but he comes from Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he a sculptor by profession?” + </p> + <p> + “He ‘s a law-student.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland burst out laughing. “He has found something in Blackstone that I + never did. He makes statues then simply for his pleasure?” + </p> + <p> + Cecilia, with a smile, gave a little toss of her head. “For mine!” + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you,” said Rowland. “I wonder whether he could be induced + to do anything for me?” + </p> + <p> + “This was a matter of friendship. I saw the figure when he had modeled it + in clay, and of course greatly admired it. He said nothing at the time, + but a week ago, on my birthday, he arrived in a buggy, with this. He had + had it cast at the foundry at Chicopee; I believe it ‘s a beautiful piece + of bronze. He begged me to accept.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” said Mallet, “he does things handsomely!” And he fell to + admiring the statue again. + </p> + <p> + “So then,” said Cecilia, “it ‘s very remarkable?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear cousin,” Rowland answered, “Mr. Hudson, of Virginia, is an + extraordinary—” Then suddenly stopping: “Is he a great friend of + yours?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A great friend?” and Cecilia hesitated. “I regard him as a child!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Rowland, “he ‘s a very clever child. Tell me something about + him: I should like to see him.” + </p> + <p> + Cecilia was obliged to go to her daughter’s music-lesson, but she assured + Rowland that she would arrange for him a meeting with the young sculptor. + He was a frequent visitor, and as he had not called for some days it was + likely he would come that evening. Rowland, left alone, examined the + statuette at his leisure, and returned more than once during the day to + take another look at it. He discovered its weak points, but it wore well. + It had the stamp of genius. Rowland envied the happy youth who, in a New + England village, without aid or encouragement, without models or + resources, had found it so easy to produce a lovely work. + </p> + <p> + In the evening, as he was smoking his cigar on the veranda, a light, quick + step pressed the gravel of the garden path, and in a moment a young man + made his bow to Cecilia. It was rather a nod than a bow, and indicated + either that he was an old friend, or that he was scantily versed in the + usual social forms. Cecilia, who was sitting near the steps, pointed to a + neighboring chair, but the young man seated himself abruptly on the floor + at her feet, began to fan himself vigorously with his hat, and broke out + into a lively objurgation upon the hot weather. “I ‘m dripping wet!” he + said, without ceremony. + </p> + <p> + “You walk too fast,” said Cecilia. “You do everything too fast.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, I know it!” he cried, passing his hand through his abundant + dark hair and making it stand out in a picturesque shock. “I can’t be slow + if I try. There ‘s something inside of me that drives me. A restless + fiend!” + </p> + <p> + Cecilia gave a light laugh, and Rowland leaned forward in his hammock. He + had placed himself in it at Bessie’s request, and was playing that he was + her baby and that she was rocking him to sleep. She sat beside him, + swinging the hammock to and fro, and singing a lullaby. When he raised + himself she pushed him back and said that the baby must finish its nap. + “But I want to see the gentleman with the fiend inside of him,” said + Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “What is a fiend?” Bessie demanded. “It ‘s only Mr. Hudson.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I want to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind him!” said Bessie, with the brevity of contempt. + </p> + <p> + “You speak as if you did n’t like him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t!” Bessie affirmed, and put Rowland to bed again. + </p> + <p> + The hammock was swung at the end of the veranda, in the thickest shade of + the vines, and this fragment of dialogue had passed unnoticed. Rowland + submitted a while longer to be cradled, and contented himself with + listening to Mr. Hudson’s voice. It was a soft and not altogether + masculine organ, and was pitched on this occasion in a somewhat plaintive + and pettish key. The young man’s mood seemed fretful; he complained of the + heat, of the dust, of a shoe that hurt him, of having gone on an errand a + mile to the other side of the town and found the person he was in search + of had left Northampton an hour before. + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you have a cup of tea?” Cecilia asked. “Perhaps that will restore + your equanimity.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, by keeping me awake all night!” said Hudson. “At the best, it ‘s + hard enough to go down to the office. With my nerves set on edge by a + sleepless night, I should perforce stay at home and be brutal to my poor + mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother is well, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she ‘s as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “And Miss Garland?” + </p> + <p> + “She ‘s as usual, too. Every one, everything, is as usual. Nothing ever + happens, in this benighted town.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon; things do happen, sometimes,” said Cecilia. “Here is a + dear cousin of mine arrived on purpose to congratulate you on your + statuette.” And she called to Rowland to come and be introduced to Mr. + Hudson. The young man sprang up with alacrity, and Rowland, coming forward + to shake hands, had a good look at him in the light projected from the + parlor window. Something seemed to shine out of Hudson’s face as a warning + against a “compliment” of the idle, unpondered sort. + </p> + <p> + “Your statuette seems to me very good,” Rowland said gravely. “It has + given me extreme pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “And my cousin knows what is good,” said Cecilia. “He ‘s a connoisseur.” + </p> + <p> + Hudson smiled and stared. “A connoisseur?” he cried, laughing. “He ‘s the + first I ‘ve ever seen! Let me see what they look like;” and he drew + Rowland nearer to the light. “Have they all such good heads as that? I + should like to model yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray do,” said Cecilia. “It will keep him a while. He is running off to + Europe.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, to Europe!” Hudson exclaimed with a melancholy cadence, as they sat + down. “Happy man!” + </p> + <p> + But the note seemed to Rowland to be struck rather at random, for he + perceived no echo of it in the boyish garrulity of his later talk. Hudson + was a tall, slender young fellow, with a singularly mobile and intelligent + face. Rowland was struck at first only with its responsive vivacity, but + in a short time he perceived it was remarkably handsome. The features were + admirably chiseled and finished, and a frank smile played over them as + gracefully as a breeze among flowers. The fault of the young man’s whole + structure was an excessive want of breadth. The forehead, though it was + high and rounded, was narrow; the jaw and the shoulders were narrow; and + the result was an air of insufficient physical substance. But Mallet + afterwards learned that this fair, slim youth could draw indefinitely upon + a mysterious fund of nervous force, which outlasted and outwearied the + endurance of many a sturdier temperament. And certainly there was life + enough in his eye to furnish an immortality! It was a generous dark gray + eye, in which there came and went a sort of kindling glow, which would + have made a ruder visage striking, and which gave at times to Hudson’s + harmonious face an altogether extraordinary beauty. There was to Rowland’s + sympathetic sense a slightly pitiful disparity between the young + sculptor’s delicate countenance and the shabby gentility of his costume. + He was dressed for a visit—a visit to a pretty woman. He was clad + from head to foot in a white linen suit, which had never been remarkable + for the felicity of its cut, and had now quite lost that crispness which + garments of this complexion can as ill spare as the back-scene of a + theatre the radiance of the footlights. He wore a vivid blue cravat, + passed through a ring altogether too splendid to be valuable; he pulled + and twisted, as he sat, a pair of yellow kid gloves; he emphasized his + conversation with great dashes and flourishes of a light, silver-tipped + walking-stick, and he kept constantly taking off and putting on one of + those slouched sombreros which are the traditional property of the + Virginian or Carolinian of romance. When this was on, he was very + picturesque, in spite of his mock elegance; and when it was off, and he + sat nursing it and turning it about and not knowing what to do with it, he + could hardly be said to be awkward. He evidently had a natural relish for + brilliant accessories, and appropriated what came to his hand. This was + visible in his talk, which abounded in the florid and sonorous. He liked + words with color in them. + </p> + <p> + Rowland, who was but a moderate talker, sat by in silence, while Cecilia, + who had told him that she desired his opinion upon her friend, used a good + deal of characteristic finesse in leading the young man to expose himself. + She perfectly succeeded, and Hudson rattled away for an hour with a + volubility in which boyish unconsciousness and manly shrewdness were + singularly combined. He gave his opinion on twenty topics, he opened up an + endless budget of local gossip, he described his repulsive routine at the + office of Messrs. Striker and Spooner, counselors at law, and he gave with + great felicity and gusto an account of the annual boat-race between + Harvard and Yale, which he had lately witnessed at Worcester. He had + looked at the straining oarsmen and the swaying crowd with the eye of the + sculptor. Rowland was a good deal amused and not a little interested. + Whenever Hudson uttered some peculiarly striking piece of youthful + grandiloquence, Cecilia broke into a long, light, familiar laugh. + </p> + <p> + “What are you laughing at?” the young man then demanded. “Have I said + anything so ridiculous?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, go on,” Cecilia replied. “You are too delicious! Show Mr. Mallet + how Mr. Striker read the Declaration of Independence.” + </p> + <p> + Hudson, like most men with a turn for the plastic arts, was an excellent + mimic, and he represented with a great deal of humor the accent and + attitude of a pompous country lawyer sustaining the burden of this + customary episode of our national festival. The sonorous twang, the + see-saw gestures, the odd pronunciation, were vividly depicted. But + Cecilia’s manner, and the young man’s quick response, ruffled a little + poor Rowland’s paternal conscience. He wondered whether his cousin was not + sacrificing the faculty of reverence in her clever protege to her need for + amusement. Hudson made no serious rejoinder to Rowland’s compliment on his + statuette until he rose to go. Rowland wondered whether he had forgotten + it, and supposed that the oversight was a sign of the natural + self-sufficiency of genius. But Hudson stood a moment before he said good + night, twirled his sombrero, and hesitated for the first time. He gave + Rowland a clear, penetrating glance, and then, with a wonderfully frank, + appealing smile: “You really meant,” he asked, “what you said a while ago + about that thing of mine? It is good—essentially good?” + </p> + <p> + “I really meant it,” said Rowland, laying a kindly hand on his shoulder. + “It is very good indeed. It is, as you say, essentially good. That is the + beauty of it.” + </p> + <p> + Hudson’s eyes glowed and expanded; he looked at Rowland for some time in + silence. “I have a notion you really know,” he said at last. “But if you + don’t, it does n’t much matter.” + </p> + <p> + “My cousin asked me to-day,” said Cecilia, “whether I supposed you knew + yourself how good it is.” + </p> + <p> + Hudson stared, blushing a little. “Perhaps not!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” said Mallet. “I read in a book the other day that great + talent in action—in fact the book said genius—is a kind of + somnambulism. The artist performs great feats, in a dream. We must not + wake him up, lest he should lose his balance.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, when he ‘s back in bed again!” Hudson answered with a laugh. “Yes, + call it a dream. It was a very happy one!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me this,” said Rowland. “Did you mean anything by your young + Water-drinker? Does he represent an idea? Is he a symbol?” + </p> + <p> + Hudson raised his eyebrows and gently scratched his head. “Why, he ‘s + youth, you know; he ‘s innocence, he ‘s health, he ‘s strength, he ‘s + curiosity. Yes, he ‘s a good many things.” + </p> + <p> + “And is the cup also a symbol?” + </p> + <p> + “The cup is knowledge, pleasure, experience. Anything of that kind!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he ‘s guzzling in earnest,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + Hudson gave a vigorous nod. “Aye, poor fellow, he ‘s thirsty!” And on this + he cried good night, and bounded down the garden path. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you make of him?” asked Cecilia, returning a short time + afterwards from a visit of investigation as to the sufficiency of Bessie’s + bedclothes. + </p> + <p> + “I confess I like him,” said Rowland. “He ‘s very immature,—but + there ‘s stuff in him.” + </p> + <p> + “He ‘s a strange being,” said Cecilia, musingly. + </p> + <p> + “Who are his people? what has been his education?” Rowland asked. + </p> + <p> + “He has had no education, beyond what he has picked up, with little + trouble, for himself. His mother is a widow, of a Massachusetts country + family, a little timid, tremulous woman, who is always on pins and needles + about her son. She had some property herself, and married a Virginian + gentleman of good estates. He turned out, I believe, a very licentious + personage, and made great havoc in their fortune. Everything, or almost + everything, melted away, including Mr. Hudson himself. This is literally + true, for he drank himself to death. Ten years ago his wife was left a + widow, with scanty means and a couple of growing boys. She paid her + husband’s debts as best she could, and came to establish herself here, + where by the death of a charitable relative she had inherited an + old-fashioned ruinous house. Roderick, our friend, was her pride and joy, + but Stephen, the elder, was her comfort and support. I remember him, + later; he was an ugly, sturdy, practical lad, very different from his + brother, and in his way, I imagine, a very fine fellow. When the war broke + out he found that the New England blood ran thicker in his veins than the + Virginian, and immediately obtained a commission. He fell in some Western + battle and left his mother inconsolable. Roderick, however, has given her + plenty to think about, and she has induced him, by some mysterious art, to + abide, nominally at least, in a profession that he abhors, and for which + he is about as fit, I should say, as I am to drive a locomotive. He grew + up a la grace de Dieu, and was horribly spoiled. Three or four years ago + he graduated at a small college in this neighborhood, where I am afraid he + had given a good deal more attention to novels and billiards than to + mathematics and Greek. Since then he has been reading law, at the rate of + a page a day. If he is ever admitted to practice I ‘m afraid my friendship + won’t avail to make me give him my business. Good, bad, or indifferent, + the boy is essentially an artist—an artist to his fingers’ ends.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then,” asked Rowland, “does n’t he deliberately take up the chisel?” + </p> + <p> + “For several reasons. In the first place, I don’t think he more than half + suspects his talent. The flame is smouldering, but it is never fanned by + the breath of criticism. He sees nothing, hears nothing, to help him to + self-knowledge. He ‘s hopelessly discontented, but he does n’t know where + to look for help. Then his mother, as she one day confessed to me, has a + holy horror of a profession which consists exclusively, as she supposes, + in making figures of people without their clothes on. Sculpture, to her + mind, is an insidious form of immorality, and for a young man of a + passionate disposition she considers the law a much safer investment. Her + father was a judge, she has two brothers at the bar, and her elder son had + made a very promising beginning in the same line. She wishes the tradition + to be perpetuated. I ‘m pretty sure the law won’t make Roderick’s fortune, + and I ‘m afraid it will, in the long run, spoil his temper.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a temper is it?” + </p> + <p> + “One to be trusted, on the whole. It is quick, but it is generous. I have + known it to breathe flame and fury at ten o’clock in the evening, and + soft, sweet music early on the morrow. It ‘s a very entertaining temper to + observe. I, fortunately, can do so dispassionately, for I ‘m the only + person in the place he has not quarreled with.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he then no society? Who is Miss Garland, whom you asked about?” + </p> + <p> + “A young girl staying with his mother, a sort of far-away cousin; a good + plain girl, but not a person to delight a sculptor’s eye. Roderick has a + goodly share of the old Southern arrogance; he has the aristocratic + temperament. He will have nothing to do with the small towns-people; he + says they ‘re ‘ignoble.’ He cannot endure his mother’s friends—the + old ladies and the ministers and the tea-party people; they bore him to + death. So he comes and lounges here and rails at everything and every + one.” + </p> + <p> + This graceful young scoffer reappeared a couple of evenings later, and + confirmed the friendly feeling he had provoked on Rowland’s part. He was + in an easier mood than before, he chattered less extravagantly, and asked + Rowland a number of rather naif questions about the condition of the fine + arts in New York and Boston. Cecilia, when he had gone, said that this was + the wholesome effect of Rowland’s praise of his statuette. Roderick was + acutely sensitive, and Rowland’s tranquil commendation had stilled his + restless pulses. He was ruminating the full-flavored verdict of culture. + Rowland felt an irresistible kindness for him, a mingled sense of his + personal charm and his artistic capacity. He had an indefinable attraction—the + something divine of unspotted, exuberant, confident youth. The next day + was Sunday, and Rowland proposed that they should take a long walk and + that Roderick should show him the country. The young man assented + gleefully, and in the morning, as Rowland at the garden gate was giving + his hostess Godspeed on her way to church, he came striding along the + grassy margin of the road and out-whistling the music of the church bells. + It was one of those lovely days of August when you feel the complete + exuberance of summer just warned and checked by autumn. “Remember the day, + and take care you rob no orchards,” said Cecilia, as they separated. + </p> + <p> + The young men walked away at a steady pace, over hill and dale, through + woods and fields, and at last found themselves on a grassy elevation + studded with mossy rocks and red cedars. Just beneath them, in a great + shining curve, flowed the goodly Connecticut. They flung themselves on the + grass and tossed stones into the river; they talked like old friends. + Rowland lit a cigar, and Roderick refused one with a grimace of + extravagant disgust. He thought them vile things; he did n’t see how + decent people could tolerate them. Rowland was amused, and wondered what + it was that made this ill-mannered speech seem perfectly inoffensive on + Roderick’s lips. He belonged to the race of mortals, to be pitied or + envied according as we view the matter, who are not held to a strict + account for their aggressions. Looking at him as he lay stretched in the + shade, Rowland vaguely likened him to some beautiful, supple, restless, + bright-eyed animal, whose motions should have no deeper warrant than the + tremulous delicacy of its structure, and be graceful even when they were + most inconvenient. Rowland watched the shadows on Mount Holyoke, listened + to the gurgle of the river, and sniffed the balsam of the pines. A gentle + breeze had begun to tickle their summits, and brought the smell of the + mown grass across from the elm-dotted river meadows. He sat up beside his + companion and looked away at the far-spreading view. It seemed to him + beautiful, and suddenly a strange feeling of prospective regret took + possession of him. Something seemed to tell him that later, in a foreign + land, he would remember it lovingly and penitently. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s a wretched business,” he said, “this practical quarrel of ours with + our own country, this everlasting impatience to get out of it. Is one’s + only safety then in flight? This is an American day, an American + landscape, an American atmosphere. It certainly has its merits, and some + day when I am shivering with ague in classic Italy, I shall accuse myself + of having slighted them.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick kindled with a sympathetic glow, and declared that America was + good enough for him, and that he had always thought it the duty of an + honest citizen to stand by his own country and help it along. He had + evidently thought nothing whatever about it, and was launching his + doctrine on the inspiration of the moment. The doctrine expanded with the + occasion, and he declared that he was above all an advocate for American + art. He did n’t see why we should n’t produce the greatest works in the + world. We were the biggest people, and we ought to have the biggest + conceptions. The biggest conceptions of course would bring forth in time + the biggest performances. We had only to be true to ourselves, to pitch in + and not be afraid, to fling Imitation overboard and fix our eyes upon our + National Individuality. “I declare,” he cried, “there ‘s a career for a + man, and I ‘ve twenty minds to decide, on the spot, to embrace it—to + be the consummate, typical, original, national American artist! It ‘s + inspiring!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland burst out laughing and told him that he liked his practice better + than his theory, and that a saner impulse than this had inspired his + little Water-drinker. Roderick took no offense, and three minutes + afterwards was talking volubly of some humbler theme, but half heeded by + his companion, who had returned to his cogitations. At last Rowland + delivered himself of the upshot of these. “How would you like,” he + suddenly demanded, “to go to Rome?” + </p> + <p> + Hudson stared, and, with a hungry laugh which speedily consigned our + National Individuality to perdition, responded that he would like it + reasonably well. “And I should like, by the same token,” he added, “to go + to Athens, to Constantinople, to Damascus, to the holy city of Benares, + where there is a golden statue of Brahma twenty feet tall.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” said Rowland soberly, “if you were to go to Rome, you should settle + down and work. Athens might help you, but for the present I should n’t + recommend Benares.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be time to arrange details when I pack my trunk,” said Hudson. + </p> + <p> + “If you mean to turn sculptor, the sooner you pack your trunk the better.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I ‘m a practical man! What is the smallest sum per annum, on + which one can keep alive the sacred fire in Rome?” + </p> + <p> + “What is the largest sum at your disposal?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick stroked his light moustache, gave it a twist, and then announced + with mock pomposity: “Three hundred dollars!” + </p> + <p> + “The money question could be arranged,” said Rowland. “There are ways of + raising money.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know a few! I never yet discovered one.” + </p> + <p> + “One consists,” said Rowland, “in having a friend with a good deal more + than he wants, and not being too proud to accept a part of it.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick stared a moment and his face flushed. “Do you mean—do you + mean?”.... he stammered. He was greatly excited. + </p> + <p> + Rowland got up, blushing a little, and Roderick sprang to his feet. “In + three words, if you are to be a sculptor, you ought to go to Rome and + study the antique. To go to Rome you need money. I ‘m fond of fine + statues, but unfortunately I can’t make them myself. I have to order them. + I order a dozen from you, to be executed at your convenience. To help you, + I pay you in advance.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick pushed off his hat and wiped his forehead, still gazing at his + companion. “You believe in me!” he cried at last. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to explain,” said Rowland. “I believe in you, if you are + prepared to work and to wait, and to struggle, and to exercise a great + many virtues. And then, I ‘m afraid to say it, lest I should disturb you + more than I should help you. You must decide for yourself. I simply offer + you an opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + Hudson stood for some time, profoundly meditative. “You have not seen my + other things,” he said suddenly. “Come and look at them.” + </p> + <p> + “Now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we ‘ll walk home. We ‘ll settle the question.” + </p> + <p> + He passed his hand through Rowland’s arm and they retraced their steps. + They reached the town and made their way along a broad country street, + dusky with the shade of magnificent elms. Rowland felt his companion’s arm + trembling in his own. They stopped at a large white house, flanked with + melancholy hemlocks, and passed through a little front garden, paved with + moss-coated bricks and ornamented with parterres bordered with high box + hedges. The mansion had an air of antiquated dignity, but it had seen its + best days, and evidently sheltered a shrunken household. Mrs. Hudson, + Rowland was sure, might be seen in the garden of a morning, in a white + apron and a pair of old gloves, engaged in frugal horticulture. Roderick’s + studio was behind, in the basement; a large, empty room, with the paper + peeling off the walls. This represented, in the fashion of fifty years + ago, a series of small fantastic landscapes of a hideous pattern, and the + young sculptor had presumably torn it away in great scraps, in moments of + aesthetic exasperation. On a board in a corner was a heap of clay, and on + the floor, against the wall, stood some dozen medallions, busts, and + figures, in various stages of completion. To exhibit them Roderick had to + place them one by one on the end of a long packing-box, which served as a + pedestal. He did so silently, making no explanations, and looking at them + himself with a strange air of quickened curiosity. Most of the things were + portraits; and the three at which he looked longest were finished busts. + One was a colossal head of a negro, tossed back, defiant, with distended + nostrils; one was the portrait of a young man whom Rowland immediately + perceived, by the resemblance, to be his deceased brother; the last + represented a gentleman with a pointed nose, a long, shaved upper lip, and + a tuft on the end of his chin. This was a face peculiarly unadapted to + sculpture; but as a piece of modeling it was the best, and it was + admirable. It reminded Rowland in its homely veracity, its artless + artfulness, of the works of the early Italian Renaissance. On the pedestal + was cut the name—Barnaby Striker, Esq. Rowland remembered that this + was the appellation of the legal luminary from whom his companion had + undertaken to borrow a reflected ray, and although in the bust there was + naught flagrantly set down in malice, it betrayed, comically to one who + could relish the secret, that the features of the original had often been + scanned with an irritated eye. Besides these there were several rough + studies of the nude, and two or three figures of a fanciful kind. The most + noticeable (and it had singular beauty) was a small modeled design for a + sepulchral monument; that, evidently, of Stephen Hudson. The young soldier + lay sleeping eternally, with his hand on his sword, like an old crusader + in a Gothic cathedral. + </p> + <p> + Rowland made no haste to pronounce; too much depended on his judgment. + “Upon my word,” cried Hudson at last, “they seem to me very good.” + </p> + <p> + And in truth, as Rowland looked, he saw they were good. They were + youthful, awkward, and ignorant; the effort, often, was more apparent than + the success. But the effort was signally powerful and intelligent; it + seemed to Rowland that it needed only to let itself go to compass great + things. Here and there, too, success, when grasped, had something + masterly. Rowland turned to his companion, who stood with his hands in his + pockets and his hair very much crumpled, looking at him askance. The light + of admiration was in Rowland’s eyes, and it speedily kindled a wonderful + illumination on Hudson’s handsome brow. Rowland said at last, gravely, + “You have only to work!” + </p> + <p> + “I think I know what that means,” Roderick answered. He turned away, threw + himself on a rickety chair, and sat for some moments with his elbows on + his knees and his head in his hands. “Work—work?” he said at last, + looking up, “ah, if I could only begin!” He glanced round the room a + moment and his eye encountered on the mantel-shelf the vivid physiognomy + of Mr. Barnaby Striker. His smile vanished, and he stared at it with an + air of concentrated enmity. “I want to begin,” he cried, “and I can’t make + a better beginning than this! Good-by, Mr. Striker!” He strode across the + room, seized a mallet that lay at hand, and before Rowland could + interfere, in the interest of art if not of morals, dealt a merciless blow + upon Mr. Striker’s skull. The bust cracked into a dozen pieces, which + toppled with a great crash upon the floor. Rowland relished neither the + destruction of the image nor his companion’s look in working it, but as he + was about to express his displeasure the door opened and gave passage to a + young girl. She came in with a rapid step and startled face, as if she had + been summoned by the noise. Seeing the heap of shattered clay and the + mallet in Roderick’s hand, she gave a cry of horror. Her voice died away + when she perceived that Rowland was a stranger, but she murmured + reproachfully, “Why, Roderick, what have you done?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick gave a joyous kick to the shapeless fragments. “I ‘ve driven the + money-changers out of the temple!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + The traces retained shape enough to be recognized, and she gave a little + moan of pity. She seemed not to understand the young man’s allegory, but + yet to feel that it pointed to some great purpose, which must be an evil + one, from being expressed in such a lawless fashion, and to perceive that + Rowland was in some way accountable for it. She looked at him with a + sharp, frank mistrust, and turned away through the open door. Rowland + looked after her with extraordinary interest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. Roderick + </h2> + <p> + Early on the morrow Rowland received a visit from his new friend. Roderick + was in a state of extreme exhilaration, tempered, however, by a certain + amount of righteous wrath. He had had a domestic struggle, but he had + remained master of the situation. He had shaken the dust of Mr. Striker’s + office from his feet. + </p> + <p> + “I had it out last night with my mother,” he said. “I dreaded the scene, + for she takes things terribly hard. She does n’t scold nor storm, and she + does n’t argue nor insist. She sits with her eyes full of tears that never + fall, and looks at me, when I displease her, as if I were a perfect + monster of depravity. And the trouble is that I was born to displease her. + She does n’t trust me; she never has and she never will. I don’t know what + I have done to set her against me, but ever since I can remember I have + been looked at with tears. The trouble is,” he went on, giving a twist to + his moustache, “I ‘ve been too absurdly docile. I ‘ve been sprawling all + my days by the maternal fireside, and my dear mother has grown used to + bullying me. I ‘ve made myself cheap! If I ‘m not in my bed by eleven + o’clock, the girl is sent out to explore with a lantern. When I think of + it, I fairly despise my amiability. It ‘s rather a hard fate, to live like + a saint and to pass for a sinner! I should like for six months to lead + Mrs. Hudson the life some fellows lead their mothers!” + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to believe,” said Rowland, “that you would like nothing of the + sort. If you have been a good boy, don’t spoil it by pretending you don’t + like it. You have been very happy, I suspect, in spite of your virtues, + and there are worse fates in the world than being loved too well. I have + not had the pleasure of seeing your mother, but I would lay you a wager + that that is the trouble. She is passionately fond of you, and her hopes, + like all intense hopes, keep trembling into fears.” Rowland, as he spoke, + had an instinctive vision of how such a beautiful young fellow must be + loved by his female relatives. + </p> + <p> + Roderick frowned, and with an impatient gesture, “I do her justice,” he + cried. “May she never do me less!” Then after a moment’s hesitation, “I + ‘ll tell you the perfect truth,” he went on. “I have to fill a double + place. I have to be my brother as well as myself. It ‘s a good deal to ask + of a man, especially when he has so little talent as I for being what he + is not. When we were both young together I was the curled darling. I had + the silver mug and the biggest piece of pudding, and I stayed in-doors to + be kissed by the ladies while he made mud-pies in the garden and was never + missed, of course. Really, he was worth fifty of me! When he was brought + home from Vicksburg with a piece of shell in his skull, my poor mother + began to think she had n’t loved him enough. I remember, as she hung round + my neck sobbing, before his coffin, she told me that I must be to her + everything that he would have been. I swore in tears and in perfect good + faith that I would, but naturally I have not kept my promise. I have been + utterly different. I have been idle, restless, egotistical, discontented. + I have done no harm, I believe, but I have done no good. My brother, if he + had lived, would have made fifty thousand dollars and put gas and water + into the house. My mother, brooding night and day on her bereavement, has + come to fix her ideal in offices of that sort. Judged by that standard I + ‘m nowhere!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland was at loss how to receive this account of his friend’s domestic + circumstances; it was plaintive, and yet the manner seemed to him + over-trenchant. “You must lose no time in making a masterpiece,” he + answered; “then with the proceeds you can give her gas from golden + burners.” + </p> + <p> + “So I have told her; but she only half believes either in masterpiece or + in proceeds. She can see no good in my making statues; they seem to her a + snare of the enemy. She would fain see me all my life tethered to the law, + like a browsing goat to a stake. In that way I ‘m in sight. ‘It ‘s a more + regular occupation!’ that ‘s all I can get out of her. A more regular + damnation! Is it a fact that artists, in general, are such wicked men? I + never had the pleasure of knowing one, so I could n’t confute her with an + example. She had the advantage of me, because she formerly knew a + portrait-painter at Richmond, who did her miniature in black lace mittens + (you may see it on the parlor table), who used to drink raw brandy and + beat his wife. I promised her that, whatever I might do to my wife, I + would never beat my mother, and that as for brandy, raw or diluted, I + detested it. She sat silently crying for an hour, during which I expended + treasures of eloquence. It ‘s a good thing to have to reckon up one’s + intentions, and I assure you, as I pleaded my cause, I was most agreeably + impressed with the elevated character of my own. I kissed her solemnly at + last, and told her that I had said everything and that she must make the + best of it. This morning she has dried her eyes, but I warrant you it is + n’t a cheerful house. I long to be out of it!” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m extremely sorry,” said Rowland, “to have been the prime cause of so + much suffering. I owe your mother some amends; will it be possible for me + to see her?” + </p> + <p> + “If you ‘ll see her, it will smooth matters vastly; though to tell the + truth she ‘ll need all her courage to face you, for she considers you an + agent of the foul fiend. She does n’t see why you should have come here + and set me by the ears: you are made to ruin ingenuous youths and desolate + doting mothers. I leave it to you, personally, to answer these charges. + You see, what she can’t forgive—what she ‘ll not really ever forgive—is + your taking me off to Rome. Rome is an evil word, in my mother’s + vocabulary, to be said in a whisper, as you ‘d say ‘damnation.’ + Northampton is in the centre of the earth and Rome far away in outlying + dusk, into which it can do no Christian any good to penetrate. And there + was I but yesterday a doomed habitue of that repository of every virtue, + Mr. Striker’s office!” + </p> + <p> + “And does Mr. Striker know of your decision?” asked Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “To a certainty! Mr. Striker, you must know, is not simply a good-natured + attorney, who lets me dog’s-ear his law-books. He’s a particular friend + and general adviser. He looks after my mother’s property and kindly + consents to regard me as part of it. Our opinions have always been + painfully divergent, but I freely forgive him his zealous attempts to + unscrew my head-piece and set it on hind part before. He never understood + me, and it was useless to try to make him. We speak a different language—we + ‘re made of a different clay. I had a fit of rage yesterday when I smashed + his bust, at the thought of all the bad blood he had stirred up in me; it + did me good, and it ‘s all over now. I don’t hate him any more; I ‘m + rather sorry for him. See how you ‘ve improved me! I must have seemed to + him wilfully, wickedly stupid, and I ‘m sure he only tolerated me on + account of his great regard for my mother. This morning I grasped the bull + by the horns. I took an armful of law-books that have been gathering the + dust in my room for the last year and a half, and presented myself at the + office. ‘Allow me to put these back in their places,’ I said. ‘I shall + never have need for them more—never more, never more, never more!’ + ‘So you ‘ve learned everything they contain?’ asked Striker, leering over + his spectacles. ‘Better late than never.’ ‘I ‘ve learned nothing that you + can teach me,’ I cried. ‘But I shall tax your patience no longer. I ‘m + going to be a sculptor. I ‘m going to Rome. I won’t bid you good-by just + yet; I shall see you again. But I bid good-by here, with rapture, to these + four detested walls—to this living tomb! I did n’t know till now how + I hated it! My compliments to Mr. Spooner, and my thanks for all you have + not made of me!’” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m glad to know you are to see Mr. Striker again,” Rowland answered, + correcting a primary inclination to smile. “You certainly owe him a + respectful farewell, even if he has not understood you. I confess you + rather puzzle me. There is another person,” he presently added, “whose + opinion as to your new career I should like to know. What does Miss + Garland think?” + </p> + <p> + Hudson looked at him keenly, with a slight blush. Then, with a conscious + smile, “What makes you suppose she thinks anything?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because, though I saw her but for a moment yesterday, she struck me as a + very intelligent person, and I am sure she has opinions.” + </p> + <p> + The smile on Roderick’s mobile face passed rapidly into a frown. “Oh, she + thinks what I think!” he answered. + </p> + <p> + Before the two young men separated Rowland attempted to give as harmonious + a shape as possible to his companion’s scheme. “I have launched you, as I + may say,” he said, “and I feel as if I ought to see you into port. I am + older than you and know the world better, and it seems well that we should + voyage a while together. It ‘s on my conscience that I ought to take you + to Rome, walk you through the Vatican, and then lock you up with a heap of + clay. I sail on the fifth of September; can you make your preparations to + start with me?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick assented to all this with an air of candid confidence in his + friend’s wisdom that outshone the virtue of pledges. “I have no + preparations to make,” he said with a smile, raising his arms and letting + them fall, as if to indicate his unencumbered condition. “What I am to + take with me I carry here!” and he tapped his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Happy man!” murmured Rowland with a sigh, thinking of the light stowage, + in his own organism, in the region indicated by Roderick, and of the heavy + one in deposit at his banker’s, of bags and boxes. + </p> + <p> + When his companion had left him he went in search of Cecilia. She was + sitting at work at a shady window, and welcomed him to a low + chintz-covered chair. He sat some time, thoughtfully snipping tape with + her scissors; he expected criticism and he was preparing a rejoinder. At + last he told her of Roderick’s decision and of his own influence in it. + Cecilia, besides an extreme surprise, exhibited a certain fine displeasure + at his not having asked her advice. + </p> + <p> + “What would you have said, if I had?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I would have said in the first place, ‘Oh for pity’s sake don’t carry off + the person in all Northampton who amuses me most!’ I would have said in + the second place, ‘Nonsense! the boy is doing very well. Let well alone!’” + </p> + <p> + “That in the first five minutes. What would you have said later?” + </p> + <p> + “That for a man who is generally averse to meddling, you were suddenly + rather officious.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland’s countenance fell. He frowned in silence. Cecilia looked at him + askance; gradually the spark of irritation faded from her eye. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse my sharpness,” she resumed at last. “But I am literally in despair + at losing Roderick Hudson. His visits in the evening, for the past year, + have kept me alive. They have given a silver tip to leaden days. I don’t + say he is of a more useful metal than other people, but he is of a + different one. Of course, however, that I shall miss him sadly is not a + reason for his not going to seek his fortune. Men must work and women must + weep!” + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly not!” said Rowland, with a good deal of emphasis. He had + suspected from the first hour of his stay that Cecilia had treated herself + to a private social luxury; he had then discovered that she found it in + Hudson’s lounging visits and boyish chatter, and he had felt himself + wondering at last whether, judiciously viewed, her gain in the matter was + not the young man’s loss. It was evident that Cecilia was not judicious, + and that her good sense, habitually rigid under the demands of domestic + economy, indulged itself with a certain agreeable laxity on this + particular point. She liked her young friend just as he was; she humored + him, flattered him, laughed at him, caressed him—did everything but + advise him. It was a flirtation without the benefits of a flirtation. She + was too old to let him fall in love with her, which might have done him + good; and her inclination was to keep him young, so that the nonsense he + talked might never transgress a certain line. It was quite conceivable + that poor Cecilia should relish a pastime; but if one had + philanthropically embraced the idea that something considerable might be + made of Roderick, it was impossible not to see that her friendship was not + what might be called tonic. So Rowland reflected, in the glow of his + new-born sympathy. There was a later time when he would have been grateful + if Hudson’s susceptibility to the relaxing influence of lovely women might + have been limited to such inexpensive tribute as he rendered the excellent + Cecilia. + </p> + <p> + “I only desire to remind you,” she pursued, “that you are likely to have + your hands full.” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘ve thought of that, and I rather like the idea; liking, as I do, the + man. I told you the other day, you know, that I longed to have something + on my hands. When it first occurred to me that I might start our young + friend on the path of glory, I felt as if I had an unimpeachable + inspiration. Then I remembered there were dangers and difficulties, and + asked myself whether I had a right to step in between him and his + obscurity. My sense of his really having the divine flame answered the + question. He is made to do the things that humanity is the happier for! I + can’t do such things myself, but when I see a young man of genius standing + helpless and hopeless for want of capital, I feel—and it ‘s no + affectation of humility, I assure you—as if it would give at least a + reflected usefulness to my own life to offer him his opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “In the name of humanity, I suppose, I ought to thank you. But I want, + first of all, to be happy myself. You guarantee us at any rate, I hope, + the masterpieces.” + </p> + <p> + “A masterpiece a year,” said Rowland smiling, “for the next quarter of a + century.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me that we have a right to ask more: to demand that you + guarantee us not only the development of the artist, but the security of + the man.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland became grave again. “His security?” + </p> + <p> + “His moral, his sentimental security. Here, you see, it ‘s perfect. We are + all under a tacit compact to preserve it. Perhaps you believe in the + necessary turbulence of genius, and you intend to enjoin upon your protege + the importance of cultivating his passions.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I believe that a man of genius owes as much deference to + his passions as any other man, but not a particle more, and I confess I + have a strong conviction that the artist is better for leading a quiet + life. That is what I shall preach to my protege, as you call him, by + example as well as by precept. You evidently believe,” he added in a + moment, “that he will lead me a dance.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I prophesy nothing. I only think that circumstances, with our young + man, have a great influence; as is proved by the fact that although he has + been fuming and fretting here for the last five years, he has nevertheless + managed to make the best of it, and found it easy, on the whole, to + vegetate. Transplanted to Rome, I fancy he ‘ll put forth a denser leafage. + I should like vastly to see the change. You must write me about it, from + stage to stage. I hope with all my heart that the fruit will be + proportionate to the foliage. Don’t think me a bird of ill omen; only + remember that you will be held to a strict account.” + </p> + <p> + “A man should make the most of himself, and be helped if he needs help,” + Rowland answered, after a long pause. “Of course when a body begins to + expand, there comes in the possibility of bursting; but I nevertheless + approve of a certain tension of one’s being. It ‘s what a man is meant + for. And then I believe in the essential salubrity of genius—true + genius.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said Cecilia, with an air of resignation which made Rowland, + for the moment, seem to himself culpably eager. “We ‘ll drink then to-day + at dinner to the health of our friend.” + </p> + <p> + * * * + </p> + <p> + Having it much at heart to convince Mrs. Hudson of the purity of his + intentions, Rowland waited upon her that evening. He was ushered into a + large parlor, which, by the light of a couple of candles, he perceived to + be very meagrely furnished and very tenderly and sparingly used. The + windows were open to the air of the summer night, and a circle of three + persons was temporarily awed into silence by his appearance. One of these + was Mrs. Hudson, who was sitting at one of the windows, empty-handed save + for the pocket-handkerchief in her lap, which was held with an air of + familiarity with its sadder uses. Near her, on the sofa, half sitting, + half lounging, in the attitude of a visitor outstaying ceremony, with one + long leg flung over the other and a large foot in a clumsy boot swinging + to and fro continually, was a lean, sandy-haired gentleman whom Rowland + recognized as the original of the portrait of Mr. Barnaby Striker. At the + table, near the candles, busy with a substantial piece of needle-work, sat + the young girl of whom he had had a moment’s quickened glimpse in + Roderick’s studio, and whom he had learned to be Miss Garland, his + companion’s kinswoman. This young lady’s limpid, penetrating gaze was the + most effective greeting he received. Mrs. Hudson rose with a soft, vague + sound of distress, and stood looking at him shrinkingly and waveringly, as + if she were sorely tempted to retreat through the open window. Mr. Striker + swung his long leg a trifle defiantly. No one, evidently, was used to + offering hollow welcomes or telling polite fibs. Rowland introduced + himself; he had come, he might say, upon business. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mrs. Hudson tremulously; “I know—my son has told me. I + suppose it is better I should see you. Perhaps you will take a seat.” + </p> + <p> + With this invitation Rowland prepared to comply, and, turning, grasped the + first chair that offered itself. + </p> + <p> + “Not that one,” said a full, grave voice; whereupon he perceived that a + quantity of sewing-silk had been suspended and entangled over the back, + preparatory to being wound on reels. He felt the least bit irritated at + the curtness of the warning, coming as it did from a young woman whose + countenance he had mentally pronounced interesting, and with regard to + whom he was conscious of the germ of the inevitable desire to produce a + responsive interest. And then he thought it would break the ice to say + something playfully urbane. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you should let me take the chair,” he answered, “and have the + pleasure of holding the skeins myself!” + </p> + <p> + For all reply to this sally he received a stare of undisguised amazement + from Miss Garland, who then looked across at Mrs. Hudson with a glance + which plainly said: “You see he ‘s quite the insidious personage we + feared.” The elder lady, however, sat with her eyes fixed on the ground + and her two hands tightly clasped. But touching her Rowland felt much more + compassion than resentment; her attitude was not coldness, it was a kind + of dread, almost a terror. She was a small, eager woman, with a pale, + troubled face, which added to her apparent age. After looking at her for + some minutes Rowland saw that she was still young, and that she must have + been a very girlish bride. She had been a pretty one, too, though she + probably had looked terribly frightened at the altar. She was very + delicately made, and Roderick had come honestly by his physical slimness + and elegance. She wore no cap, and her flaxen hair, which was of + extraordinary fineness, was smoothed and confined with Puritanic + precision. She was excessively shy, and evidently very humble-minded; it + was singular to see a woman to whom the experience of life had conveyed so + little reassurance as to her own resources or the chances of things + turning out well. Rowland began immediately to like her, and to feel + impatient to persuade her that there was no harm in him, and that, twenty + to one, her son would make her a well-pleased woman yet. He foresaw that + she would be easy to persuade, and that a benevolent conversational tone + would probably make her pass, fluttering, from distrust into an oppressive + extreme of confidence. But he had an indefinable sense that the person who + was testing that strong young eyesight of hers in the dim candle-light was + less readily beguiled from her mysterious feminine preconceptions. Miss + Garland, according to Cecilia’s judgment, as Rowland remembered, had not a + countenance to inspire a sculptor; but it seemed to Rowland that her + countenance might fairly inspire a man who was far from being a sculptor. + She was not pretty, as the eye of habit judges prettiness, but when you + made the observation you somehow failed to set it down against her, for + you had already passed from measuring contours to tracing meanings. In + Mary Garland’s face there were many possible ones, and they gave you the + more to think about that it was not—like Roderick Hudson’s, for + instance—a quick and mobile face, over which expression flickered + like a candle in a wind. They followed each other slowly, distinctly, + gravely, sincerely, and you might almost have fancied that, as they came + and went, they gave her a sort of pain. She was tall and slender, and had + an air of maidenly strength and decision. She had a broad forehead and + dark eyebrows, a trifle thicker than those of classic beauties; her gray + eye was clear but not brilliant, and her features were perfectly + irregular. Her mouth was large, fortunately for the principal grace of her + physiognomy was her smile, which displayed itself with magnificent + amplitude. Rowland, indeed, had not yet seen her smile, but something + assured him that her rigid gravity had a radiant counterpart. She wore a + scanty white dress, and had a nameless rustic air which would have led one + to speak of her less as a young lady than as a young woman. She was + evidently a girl of a great personal force, but she lacked pliancy. She + was hemming a kitchen towel with the aid of a large steel thimble. She + bent her serious eyes at last on her work again, and let Rowland explain + himself. + </p> + <p> + “I have become suddenly so very intimate with your son,” he said at last, + addressing himself to Mrs. Hudson, “that it seems just I should make your + acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “Very just,” murmured the poor lady, and after a moment’s hesitation was + on the point of adding something more; but Mr. Striker here interposed, + after a prefatory clearance of the throat. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to take the liberty,” he said, “of addressing you a simple + question. For how long a period of time have you been acquainted with our + young friend?” He continued to kick the air, but his head was thrown back + and his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, as if in aversion to the + spectacle of Rowland’s inevitable confusion. + </p> + <p> + “A very short time, I confess. Hardly three days.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you call yourself intimate, eh? I have been seeing Mr. Roderick + daily these three years, and yet it was only this morning that I felt as + if I had at last the right to say that I knew him. We had a few moments’ + conversation in my office which supplied the missing links in the + evidence. So that now I do venture to say I ‘m acquainted with Mr. + Roderick! But wait three years, sir, like me!” and Mr. Striker laughed, + with a closed mouth and a noiseless shake of all his long person. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hudson smiled confusedly, at hazard; Miss Garland kept her eyes on + her stitches. But it seemed to Rowland that the latter colored a little. + “Oh, in three years, of course,” he said, “we shall know each other + better. Before many years are over, madam,” he pursued, “I expect the + world to know him. I expect him to be a great man!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hudson looked at first as if this could be but an insidious device + for increasing her distress by the assistance of irony. Then reassured, + little by little, by Rowland’s benevolent visage, she gave him an + appealing glance and a timorous “Really?” + </p> + <p> + But before Rowland could respond, Mr. Striker again intervened. “Do I + fully apprehend your expression?” he asked. “Our young friend is to become + a great man?” + </p> + <p> + “A great artist, I hope,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “This is a new and interesting view,” said Mr. Striker, with an assumption + of judicial calmness. “We have had hopes for Mr. Roderick, but I confess, + if I have rightly understood them, they stopped short of greatness. We + should n’t have taken the responsibility of claiming it for him. What do + you say, ladies? We all feel about him here—his mother, Miss + Garland, and myself—as if his merits were rather in the line of the”—and + Mr. Striker waved his hand with a series of fantastic flourishes in the + air—“of the light ornamental!” Mr. Striker bore his recalcitrant + pupil a grudge, but he was evidently trying both to be fair and to respect + the susceptibilities of his companions. But he was unversed in the + mysterious processes of feminine emotion. Ten minutes before, there had + been a general harmony of sombre views; but on hearing Roderick’s + limitations thus distinctly formulated to a stranger, the two ladies + mutely protested. Mrs. Hudson uttered a short, faint sigh, and Miss + Garland raised her eyes toward their advocate and visited him with a + short, cold glance. + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m afraid, Mrs. Hudson,” Rowland pursued, evading the discussion of + Roderick’s possible greatness, “that you don’t at all thank me for + stirring up your son’s ambition on a line which leads him so far from + home. I suspect I have made you my enemy.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hudson covered her mouth with her finger-tips and looked painfully + perplexed between the desire to confess the truth and the fear of being + impolite. “My cousin is no one’s enemy,” Miss Garland hereupon declared, + gently, but with that same fine deliberateness with which she had made + Rowland relax his grasp of the chair. + </p> + <p> + “Does she leave that to you?” Rowland ventured to ask, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “We are inspired with none but Christian sentiments,” said Mr. Striker; + “Miss Garland perhaps most of all. Miss Garland,” and Mr. Striker waved + his hand again as if to perform an introduction which had been regrettably + omitted, “is the daughter of a minister, the granddaughter of a minister, + the sister of a minister.” Rowland bowed deferentially, and the young girl + went on with her sewing, with nothing, apparently, either of embarrassment + or elation at the promulgation of these facts. Mr. Striker continued: + “Mrs. Hudson, I see, is too deeply agitated to converse with you freely. + She will allow me to address you a few questions. Would you kindly inform + her, as exactly as possible, just what you propose to do with her son?” + </p> + <p> + The poor lady fixed her eyes appealingly on Rowland’s face and seemed to + say that Mr. Striker had spoken her desire, though she herself would have + expressed it less defiantly. But Rowland saw in Mr. Striker’s + many-wrinkled light blue eye, shrewd at once and good-natured, that he had + no intention of defiance, and that he was simply pompous and conceited and + sarcastically compassionate of any view of things in which Roderick Hudson + was regarded in a serious light. + </p> + <p> + “Do, my dear madam?” demanded Rowland. “I don’t propose to do anything. He + must do for himself. I simply offer him the chance. He ‘s to study, to + work—hard, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Not too hard, please,” murmured Mrs. Hudson, pleadingly, wheeling about + from recent visions of dangerous leisure. “He ‘s not very strong, and I ‘m + afraid the climate of Europe is very relaxing.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, study?” repeated Mr. Striker. “To what line of study is he to direct + his attention?” Then suddenly, with an impulse of disinterested curiosity + on his own account, “How do you study sculpture, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + “By looking at models and imitating them.” + </p> + <p> + “At models, eh? To what kind of models do you refer?” + </p> + <p> + “To the antique, in the first place.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the antique,” repeated Mr. Striker, with a jocose intonation. “Do you + hear, madam? Roderick is going off to Europe to learn to imitate the + antique.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it ‘s all right,” said Mrs. Hudson, twisting herself in a sort + of delicate anguish. + </p> + <p> + “An antique, as I understand it,” the lawyer continued, “is an image of a + pagan deity, with considerable dirt sticking to it, and no arms, no nose, + and no clothing. A precious model, certainly!” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s a very good description of many,” said Rowland, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy! Truly?” asked Mrs. Hudson, borrowing courage from his urbanity. + </p> + <p> + “But a sculptor’s studies, you intimate, are not confined to the antique,” + Mr. Striker resumed. “After he has been looking three or four years at the + objects I describe”— + </p> + <p> + “He studies the living model,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Does it take three or four years?” asked Mrs. Hudson, imploringly. + </p> + <p> + “That depends upon the artist’s aptitude. After twenty years a real artist + is still studying.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my poor boy!” moaned Mrs. Hudson, finding the prospect, under every + light, still terrible. + </p> + <p> + “Now this study of the living model,” Mr. Striker pursued. “Inform Mrs. + Hudson about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear, no!” cried Mrs. Hudson, shrinkingly. + </p> + <p> + “That too,” said Rowland, “is one of the reasons for studying in Rome. It + ‘s a handsome race, you know, and you find very well-made people.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose they ‘re no better made than a good tough Yankee,” objected Mr. + Striker, transposing his interminable legs. “The same God made us.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” sighed Mrs. Hudson, but with a questioning glance at her visitor + which showed that she had already begun to concede much weight to his + opinion. Rowland hastened to express his assent to Mr. Striker’s + proposition. + </p> + <p> + Miss Garland looked up, and, after a moment’s hesitation: “Are the Roman + women very beautiful?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Rowland too, in answering, hesitated; he was looking straight at the young + girl. “On the whole, I prefer ours,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She had dropped her work in her lap; her hands were crossed upon it, her + head thrown a little back. She had evidently expected a more impersonal + answer, and she was dissatisfied. For an instant she seemed inclined to + make a rejoinder, but she slowly picked up her work in silence and drew + her stitches again. + </p> + <p> + Rowland had for the second time the feeling that she judged him to be a + person of a disagreeably sophisticated tone. He noticed too that the + kitchen towel she was hemming was terribly coarse. And yet his answer had + a resonant inward echo, and he repeated to himself, “Yes, on the whole, I + prefer ours.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, these models,” began Mr. Striker. “You put them into an attitude, I + suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “An attitude, exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “And then you sit down and look at them.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not sit too long. You must go at your clay and try to build up + something that looks like them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there you are with your model in an attitude on one side, yourself, + in an attitude too, I suppose, on the other, and your pile of clay in the + middle, building up, as you say. So you pass the morning. After that I + hope you go out and take a walk, and rest from your exertions.” + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably. But to a sculptor who loves his work there is no time + lost. Everything he looks at teaches or suggests something.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s a tempting doctrine to young men with a taste for sitting by the + hour with the page unturned, watching the flies buzz, or the frost melt on + the window-pane. Our young friend, in this way, must have laid up stores + of information which I never suspected!” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” said Rowland, with an unresentful smile, “he will prove + some day the completer artist for some of those lazy reveries.” + </p> + <p> + This theory was apparently very grateful to Mrs. Hudson, who had never had + the case put for her son with such ingenious hopefulness, and found + herself disrelishing the singular situation of seeming to side against her + own flesh and blood with a lawyer whose conversational tone betrayed the + habit of cross-questioning. + </p> + <p> + “My son, then,” she ventured to ask, “my son has great—what you + would call great powers?” + </p> + <p> + “To my sense, very great powers.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Mrs. Hudson actually smiled, broadly, gleefully, and glanced at Miss + Garland, as if to invite her to do likewise. But the young girl’s face + remained serious, like the eastern sky when the opposite sunset is too + feeble to make it glow. “Do you really know?” she asked, looking at + Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “One cannot know in such a matter save after proof, and proof takes time. + But one can believe.” + </p> + <p> + “And you believe?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe.” + </p> + <p> + But even then Miss Garland vouchsafed no smile. Her face became graver + than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Mrs. Hudson, “we must hope that it is all for the + best.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Striker eyed his old friend for a moment with a look of some + displeasure; he saw that this was but a cunning feminine imitation of + resignation, and that, through some untraceable process of transition, she + was now taking more comfort in the opinions of this insinuating stranger + than in his own tough dogmas. He rose to his feet, without pulling down + his waistcoat, but with a wrinkled grin at the inconsistency of women. + “Well, sir, Mr. Roderick’s powers are nothing to me,” he said, “nor no use + he makes of them. Good or bad, he ‘s no son of mine. But, in a friendly + way, I ‘m glad to hear so fine an account of him. I ‘m glad, madam, you + ‘re so satisfied with the prospect. Affection, sir, you see, must have its + guarantees!” He paused a moment, stroking his beard, with his head + inclined and one eye half-closed, looking at Rowland. The look was + grotesque, but it was significant, and it puzzled Rowland more than it + amused him. “I suppose you ‘re a very brilliant young man,” he went on, + “very enlightened, very cultivated, quite up to the mark in the fine arts + and all that sort of thing. I ‘m a plain, practical old boy, content to + follow an honorable profession in a free country. I did n’t go off to the + Old World to learn my business; no one took me by the hand; I had to + grease my wheels myself, and, such as I am, I ‘m a self-made man, every + inch of me! Well, if our young friend is booked for fame and fortune, I + don’t suppose his going to Rome will stop him. But, mind you, it won’t + help him such a long way, either. If you have undertaken to put him + through, there ‘s a thing or two you ‘d better remember. The crop we + gather depends upon the seed we sow. He may be the biggest genius of the + age: his potatoes won’t come up without his hoeing them. If he takes + things so almighty easy as—well, as one or two young fellows of + genius I ‘ve had under my eye—his produce will never gain the prize. + Take the word for it of a man who has made his way inch by inch, and does + n’t believe that we ‘ll wake up to find our work done because we ‘ve lain + all night a-dreaming of it; anything worth doing is devilish hard to do! + If your young protajay finds things easy and has a good time and says he + likes the life, it ‘s a sign that—as I may say—you had better + step round to the office and look at the books. That ‘s all I desire to + remark. No offense intended. I hope you ‘ll have a first-rate time.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland could honestly reply that this seemed pregnant sense, and he + offered Mr. Striker a friendly hand-shake as the latter withdrew. But Mr. + Striker’s rather grim view of matters cast a momentary shadow on his + companions, and Mrs. Hudson seemed to feel that it necessitated between + them some little friendly agreement not to be overawed. + </p> + <p> + Rowland sat for some time longer, partly because he wished to please the + two women and partly because he was strangely pleased himself. There was + something touching in their unworldly fears and diffident hopes, something + almost terrible in the way poor little Mrs. Hudson seemed to flutter and + quiver with intense maternal passion. She put forth one timid + conversational venture after another, and asked Rowland a number of + questions about himself, his age, his family, his occupations, his tastes, + his religious opinions. Rowland had an odd feeling at last that she had + begun to consider him very exemplary, and that she might make, later, some + perturbing discovery. He tried, therefore, to invent something that would + prepare her to find him fallible. But he could think of nothing. It only + seemed to him that Miss Garland secretly mistrusted him, and that he must + leave her to render him the service, after he had gone, of making him the + object of a little firm derogation. Mrs. Hudson talked with low-voiced + eagerness about her son. + </p> + <p> + “He ‘s very lovable, sir, I assure you. When you come to know him you ‘ll + find him very lovable. He ‘s a little spoiled, of course; he has always + done with me as he pleased; but he ‘s a good boy, I ‘m sure he ‘s a good + boy. And every one thinks him very attractive: I ‘m sure he ‘d be noticed, + anywhere. Don’t you think he ‘s very handsome, sir? He features his poor + father. I had another—perhaps you ‘ve been told. He was killed.” And + the poor little lady bravely smiled, for fear of doing worse. “He was a + very fine boy, but very different from Roderick. Roderick is a little + strange; he has never been an easy boy. Sometimes I feel like the goose—was + n’t it a goose, dear?” and startled by the audacity of her comparison she + appealed to Miss Garland—“the goose, or the hen, who hatched a + swan’s egg. I have never been able to give him what he needs. I have + always thought that in more—in more brilliant circumstances he might + find his place and be happy. But at the same time I was afraid of the + world for him; it was so large and dangerous and dreadful. No doubt I know + very little about it. I never suspected, I confess, that it contained + persons of such liberality as yours.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland replied that, evidently, she had done the world but scanty + justice. “No,” objected Miss Garland, after a pause, “it is like something + in a fairy tale.” + </p> + <p> + “What, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “Your coming here all unknown, so rich and so polite, and carrying off my + cousin in a golden cloud.” + </p> + <p> + If this was badinage Miss Garland had the best of it, for Rowland almost + fell a-musing silently over the question whether there was a possibility + of irony in that transparent gaze. Before he withdrew, Mrs. Hudson made + him tell her again that Roderick’s powers were extraordinary. He had + inspired her with a clinging, caressing faith in his wisdom. “He will + really do great things,” she asked, “the very greatest?” + </p> + <p> + “I see no reason in his talent itself why he should not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we ‘ll think of that as we sit here alone,” she rejoined. “Mary and + I will sit here and talk about it. So I give him up,” she went on, as he + was going. “I ‘m sure you ‘ll be the best of friends to him, but if you + should ever forget him, or grow tired of him, or lose your interest in + him, and he should come to any harm or any trouble, please, sir, remember”—And + she paused, with a tremulous voice. + </p> + <p> + “Remember, my dear madam?” + </p> + <p> + “That he is all I have—that he is everything—and that it would + be very terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “In so far as I can help him, he shall succeed,” was all Rowland could + say. He turned to Miss Garland, to bid her good night, and she rose and + put out her hand. She was very straightforward, but he could see that if + she was too modest to be bold, she was much too simple to be shy. “Have + you no charge to lay upon me?” he asked—to ask her something. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him a moment and then, although she was not shy, she + blushed. “Make him do his best,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Rowland noted the soft intensity with which the words were uttered. “Do + you take a great interest in him?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, if he will not do his best for you, he will not do it for me.” She + turned away with another blush, and Rowland took his leave. + </p> + <p> + He walked homeward, thinking of many things. The great Northampton elms + interarched far above in the darkness, but the moon had risen and through + scattered apertures was hanging the dusky vault with silver lamps. There + seemed to Rowland something intensely serious in the scene in which he had + just taken part. He had laughed and talked and braved it out in + self-defense; but when he reflected that he was really meddling with the + simple stillness of this little New England home, and that he had ventured + to disturb so much living security in the interest of a far-away, + fantastic hypothesis, he paused, amazed at his temerity. It was true, as + Cecilia had said, that for an unofficious man it was a singular position. + There stirred in his mind an odd feeling of annoyance with Roderick for + having thus peremptorily enlisted his sympathies. As he looked up and down + the long vista, and saw the clear white houses glancing here and there in + the broken moonshine, he could almost have believed that the happiest lot + for any man was to make the most of life in some such tranquil spot as + that. Here were kindness, comfort, safety, the warning voice of duty, the + perfect hush of temptation. And as Rowland looked along the arch of + silvered shadow and out into the lucid air of the American night, which + seemed so doubly vast, somehow, and strange and nocturnal, he felt like + declaring that here was beauty too—beauty sufficient for an artist + not to starve upon it. As he stood, lost in the darkness, he presently + heard a rapid tread on the other side of the road, accompanied by a loud, + jubilant whistle, and in a moment a figure emerged into an open gap of + moonshine. He had no difficulty in recognizing Hudson, who was presumably + returning from a visit to Cecilia. Roderick stopped suddenly and stared up + at the moon, with his face vividly illumined. He broke out into a snatch + of song:— + </p> + <p> + “The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story!” + </p> + <p> + And with a great, musical roll of his voice he went swinging off into the + darkness again, as if his thoughts had lent him wings. He was dreaming of + the inspiration of foreign lands,—of castled crags and historic + landscapes. What a pity, after all, thought Rowland, as he went his own + way, that he should n’t have a taste of it! + </p> + <p> + It had been a very just remark of Cecilia’s that Roderick would change + with a change in his circumstances. Rowland had telegraphed to New York + for another berth on his steamer, and from the hour the answer came + Hudson’s spirits rose to incalculable heights. He was radiant with + good-humor, and his kindly jollity seemed the pledge of a brilliant + future. He had forgiven his old enemies and forgotten his old grievances, + and seemed every way reconciled to a world in which he was going to count + as an active force. He was inexhaustibly loquacious and fantastic, and as + Cecilia said, he had suddenly become so good that it was only to be feared + he was going to start not for Europe but for heaven. He took long walks + with Rowland, who felt more and more the fascination of what he would have + called his giftedness. Rowland returned several times to Mrs. Hudson’s, + and found the two ladies doing their best to be happy in their companion’s + happiness. Miss Garland, he thought, was succeeding better than her + demeanor on his first visit had promised. He tried to have some especial + talk with her, but her extreme reserve forced him to content himself with + such response to his rather urgent overtures as might be extracted from a + keenly attentive smile. It must be confessed, however, that if the + response was vague, the satisfaction was great, and that Rowland, after + his second visit, kept seeing a lurking reflection of this smile in the + most unexpected places. It seemed strange that she should please him so + well at so slender a cost, but please him she did, prodigiously, and his + pleasure had a quality altogether new to him. It made him restless, and a + trifle melancholy; he walked about absently, wondering and wishing. He + wondered, among other things, why fate should have condemned him to make + the acquaintance of a girl whom he would make a sacrifice to know better, + just as he was leaving the country for years. It seemed to him that he was + turning his back on a chance of happiness—happiness of a sort of + which the slenderest germ should be cultivated. He asked himself whether, + feeling as he did, if he had only himself to please, he would give up his + journey and—wait. He had Roderick to please now, for whom + disappointment would be cruel; but he said to himself that certainly, if + there were no Roderick in the case, the ship should sail without him. He + asked Hudson several questions about his cousin, but Roderick, + confidential on most points, seemed to have reasons of his own for being + reticent on this one. His measured answers quickened Rowland’s curiosity, + for Miss Garland, with her own irritating half-suggestions, had only to be + a subject of guarded allusion in others to become intolerably interesting. + He learned from Roderick that she was the daughter of a country minister, + a far-away cousin of his mother, settled in another part of the State; + that she was one of a half-a-dozen daughters, that the family was very + poor, and that she had come a couple of months before to pay his mother a + long visit. “It is to be a very long one now,” he said, “for it is settled + that she is to remain while I am away.” + </p> + <p> + The fermentation of contentment in Roderick’s soul reached its climax a + few days before the young men were to make their farewells. He had been + sitting with his friends on Cecilia’s veranda, but for half an hour past + he had said nothing. Lounging back against a vine-wreathed column and + gazing idly at the stars, he kept caroling softly to himself with that + indifference to ceremony for which he always found allowance, and which in + him had a sort of pleading grace. At last, springing up: “I want to strike + out, hard!” he exclaimed. “I want to do something violent, to let off + steam!” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘ll tell you what to do, this lovely weather,” said Cecilia. “Give a + picnic. It can be as violent as you please, and it will have the merit of + leading off our emotion into a safe channel, as well as yours.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick laughed uproariously at Cecilia’s very practical remedy for his + sentimental need, but a couple of days later, nevertheless, the picnic was + given. It was to be a family party, but Roderick, in his magnanimous + geniality, insisted on inviting Mr. Striker, a decision which Rowland + mentally applauded. “And we ‘ll have Mrs. Striker, too,” he said, “if she + ‘ll come, to keep my mother in countenance; and at any rate we ‘ll have + Miss Striker—the divine Petronilla!” The young lady thus denominated + formed, with Mrs. Hudson, Miss Garland, and Cecilia, the feminine half of + the company. Mr. Striker presented himself, sacrificing a morning’s work, + with a magnanimity greater even than Roderick’s, and foreign support was + further secured in the person of Mr. Whitefoot, the young Orthodox + minister. Roderick had chosen the feasting-place; he knew it well and had + passed many a summer afternoon there, lying at his length on the grass and + gazing at the blue undulations of the horizon. It was a meadow on the edge + of a wood, with mossy rocks protruding through the grass and a little lake + on the other side. It was a cloudless August day; Rowland always + remembered it, and the scene, and everything that was said and done, with + extraordinary distinctness. Roderick surpassed himself in friendly + jollity, and at one moment, when exhilaration was at the highest, was seen + in Mr. Striker’s high white hat, drinking champagne from a broken tea-cup + to Mr. Striker’s health. Miss Striker had her father’s pale blue eye; she + was dressed as if she were going to sit for her photograph, and remained + for a long time with Roderick on a little promontory overhanging the lake. + Mrs. Hudson sat all day with a little meek, apprehensive smile. She was + afraid of an “accident,” though unless Miss Striker (who indeed was a + little of a romp) should push Roderick into the lake, it was hard to see + what accident could occur. Mrs. Hudson was as neat and crisp and + uncrumpled at the end of the festival as at the beginning. Mr. Whitefoot, + who but a twelvemonth later became a convert to episcopacy and was already + cultivating a certain conversational sonority, devoted himself to Cecilia. + He had a little book in his pocket, out of which he read to her at + intervals, lying stretched at her feet, and it was a lasting joke with + Cecilia, afterwards, that she would never tell what Mr. Whitefoot’s little + book had been. Rowland had placed himself near Miss Garland, while the + feasting went forward on the grass. She wore a so-called gypsy hat—a + little straw hat, tied down over her ears, so as to cast her eyes into + shadow, by a ribbon passing outside of it. When the company dispersed, + after lunch, he proposed to her to take a stroll in the wood. She + hesitated a moment and looked toward Mrs. Hudson, as if for permission to + leave her. But Mrs. Hudson was listening to Mr. Striker, who sat gossiping + to her with relaxed magniloquence, his waistcoat unbuttoned and his hat on + his nose. + </p> + <p> + “You can give your cousin your society at any time,” said Rowland. “But + me, perhaps, you ‘ll never see again.” + </p> + <p> + “Why then should we wish to be friends, if nothing is to come of it?” she + asked, with homely logic. But by this time she had consented, and they + were treading the fallen pine-needles. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, one must take all one can get,” said Rowland. “If we can be friends + for half an hour, it ‘s so much gained.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you expect never to come back to Northampton again?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Never’ is a good deal to say. But I go to Europe for a long stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you prefer it so much to your own country?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not say that. But I have the misfortune to be a rather idle man, + and in Europe the burden of idleness is less heavy than here.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent for a few minutes; then at last, “In that, then, we are + better than Europe,” she said. To a certain point Rowland agreed with her, + but he demurred, to make her say more. + </p> + <p> + “Would n’t it be better,” she asked, “to work to get reconciled to America, + than to go to Europe to get reconciled to idleness?” + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless; but you know work is hard to find.” + </p> + <p> + “I come from a little place where every one has plenty,” said Miss + Garland. “We all work; every one I know works. And really,” she added + presently, “I look at you with curiosity; you are the first unoccupied man + I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t look at me too hard,” said Rowland, smiling. “I shall sink into the + earth. What is the name of your little place?” + </p> + <p> + “West Nazareth,” said Miss Garland, with her usual sobriety. “It is not so + very little, though it ‘s smaller than Northampton.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether I could find any work at West Nazareth,” Rowland said. + </p> + <p> + “You would not like it,” Miss Garland declared reflectively. “Though there + are far finer woods there than this. We have miles and miles of woods.” + </p> + <p> + “I might chop down trees,” said Rowland. “That is, if you allow it.” + </p> + <p> + “Allow it? Why, where should we get our firewood?” Then, noticing that he + had spoken jestingly, she glanced at him askance, though with no visible + diminution of her gravity. “Don’t you know how to do anything? Have you no + profession?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland shook his head. “Absolutely none.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you do all day?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing worth relating. That ‘s why I am going to Europe. There, at + least, if I do nothing, I shall see a great deal; and if I ‘m not a + producer, I shall at any rate be an observer.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t we observe everywhere?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; and I really think that in that way I make the most of my + opportunities. Though I confess,” he continued, “that I often remember + there are things to be seen here to which I probably have n’t done + justice. I should like, for instance, to see West Nazareth.” + </p> + <p> + She looked round at him, open-eyed; not, apparently, that she exactly + supposed he was jesting, for the expression of such a desire was not + necessarily facetious; but as if he must have spoken with an ulterior + motive. In fact, he had spoken from the simplest of motives. The girl + beside him pleased him unspeakably, and, suspecting that her charm was + essentially her own and not reflected from social circumstance, he wished + to give himself the satisfaction of contrasting her with the meagre + influences of her education. Miss Garland’s second movement was to take + him at his word. “Since you are free to do as you please, why don’t you go + there?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not free to do as I please now. I have offered your cousin to bear + him company to Europe, he has accepted with enthusiasm, and I cannot + retract.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to Europe simply for his sake?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland hesitated a moment. “I think I may almost say so.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Garland walked along in silence. “Do you mean to do a great deal for + him?” she asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “What I can. But my power of helping him is very small beside his power of + helping himself.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment she was silent again. “You are very generous,” she said, + almost solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I am simply very shrewd. Roderick will repay me. It ‘s an investment. + At first, I think,” he added shortly afterwards, “you would not have paid + me that compliment. You distrusted me.” + </p> + <p> + She made no attempt to deny it. “I did n’t see why you should wish to make + Roderick discontented. I thought you were rather frivolous.” + </p> + <p> + “You did me injustice. I don’t think I ‘m that.” + </p> + <p> + “It was because you are unlike other men—those, at least, whom I + have seen.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as you describe yourself. You have no duties, no profession, no + home. You live for your pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s all very true. And yet I maintain I ‘m not frivolous.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” said Miss Garland, simply. They had reached a point where + the wood-path forked and put forth two divergent tracks which lost + themselves in a verdurous tangle. Miss Garland seemed to think that the + difficulty of choice between them was a reason for giving them up and + turning back. Rowland thought otherwise, and detected agreeable grounds + for preference in the left-hand path. As a compromise, they sat down on a + fallen log. Looking about him, Rowland espied a curious wild shrub, with a + spotted crimson leaf; he went and plucked a spray of it and brought it to + Miss Garland. He had never observed it before, but she immediately called + it by its name. She expressed surprise at his not knowing it; it was + extremely common. He presently brought her a specimen of another delicate + plant, with a little blue-streaked flower. “I suppose that ‘s common, + too,” he said, “but I have never seen it—or noticed it, at least.” + She answered that this one was rare, and meditated a moment before she + could remember its name. At last she recalled it, and expressed surprise + at his having found the plant in the woods; she supposed it grew only in + open marshes. Rowland complimented her on her fund of useful information. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s not especially useful,” she answered; “but I like to know the names + of plants as I do those of my acquaintances. When we walk in the woods at + home—which we do so much—it seems as unnatural not to know + what to call the flowers as it would be to see some one in the town with + whom we were not on speaking terms.” + </p> + <p> + “Apropos of frivolity,” Rowland said, “I ‘m sure you have very little of + it, unless at West Nazareth it is considered frivolous to walk in the + woods and nod to the nodding flowers. Do kindly tell me a little about + yourself.” And to compel her to begin, “I know you come of a race of + theologians,” he went on. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, deliberating; “they are not theologians, though they + are ministers. We don’t take a very firm stand upon doctrine; we are + practical, rather. We write sermons and preach them, but we do a great + deal of hard work beside.” + </p> + <p> + “And of this hard work what has your share been?” + </p> + <p> + “The hardest part: doing nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you call nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “I taught school a while: I must make the most of that. But I confess I + did n’t like it. Otherwise, I have only done little things at home, as + they turned up.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of things?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, every kind. If you had seen my home, you would understand.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland would have liked to make her specify; but he felt a more urgent + need to respect her simplicity than he had ever felt to defer to the + complex circumstance of certain other women. “To be happy, I imagine,” he + contented himself with saying, “you need to be occupied. You need to have + something to expend yourself upon.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not so true as it once was; now that I am older, I am sure I am + less impatient of leisure. Certainly, these two months that I have been + with Mrs. Hudson, I have had a terrible amount of it. And yet I have liked + it! And now that I am probably to be with her all the while that her son + is away, I look forward to more with a resignation that I don’t quite know + what to make of.” + </p> + <p> + “It is settled, then, that you are to remain with your cousin?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends upon their writing from home that I may stay. But that is + probable. Only I must not forget,” she said, rising, “that the ground for + my doing so is that she be not left alone.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to know,” said Rowland, “that I shall probably often hear about + you. I assure you I shall often think about you!” These words were half + impulsive, half deliberate. They were the simple truth, and he had asked + himself why he should not tell her the truth. And yet they were not all of + it; her hearing the rest would depend upon the way she received this. She + received it not only, as Rowland foresaw, without a shadow of coquetry, of + any apparent thought of listening to it gracefully, but with a slight + movement of nervous deprecation, which seemed to betray itself in the + quickening of her step. Evidently, if Rowland was to take pleasure in + hearing about her, it would have to be a highly disinterested pleasure. + She answered nothing, and Rowland too, as he walked beside her, was + silent; but as he looked along the shadow-woven wood-path, what he was + really facing was a level three years of disinterestedness. He ushered + them in by talking composed civility until he had brought Miss Garland + back to her companions. + </p> + <p> + He saw her but once again. He was obliged to be in New York a couple of + days before sailing, and it was arranged that Roderick should overtake him + at the last moment. The evening before he left Northampton he went to say + farewell to Mrs. Hudson. The ceremony was brief. Rowland soon perceived + that the poor little lady was in the melting mood, and, as he dreaded her + tears, he compressed a multitude of solemn promises into a silent + hand-shake and took his leave. Miss Garland, she had told him, was in the + back-garden with Roderick: he might go out to them. He did so, and as he + drew near he heard Roderick’s high-pitched voice ringing behind the + shrubbery. In a moment, emerging, he found Miss Garland leaning against a + tree, with her cousin before her talking with great emphasis. He asked + pardon for interrupting them, and said he wished only to bid her good-by. + She gave him her hand and he made her his bow in silence. “Don’t forget,” + he said to Roderick, as he turned away. “And don’t, in this company, + repent of your bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not let him,” said Miss Garland, with something very like gayety. + “I shall see that he is punctual. He must go! I owe you an apology for + having doubted that he ought to.” And in spite of the dusk Rowland could + see that she had an even finer smile than he had supposed. + </p> + <p> + Roderick was punctual, eagerly punctual, and they went. Rowland for + several days was occupied with material cares, and lost sight of his + sentimental perplexities. But they only slumbered, and they were sharply + awakened. The weather was fine, and the two young men always sat together + upon deck late into the evening. One night, toward the last, they were at + the stern of the great ship, watching her grind the solid blackness of the + ocean into phosphorescent foam. They talked on these occasions of + everything conceivable, and had the air of having no secrets from each + other. But it was on Roderick’s conscience that this air belied him, and + he was too frank by nature, moreover, for permanent reticence on any + point. + </p> + <p> + “I must tell you something,” he said at last. “I should like you to know + it, and you will be so glad to know it. Besides, it ‘s only a question of + time; three months hence, probably, you would have guessed it. I am + engaged to Mary Garland.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland sat staring; though the sea was calm, it seemed to him that the + ship gave a great dizzying lurch. But in a moment he contrived to answer + coherently: “Engaged to Miss Garland! I never supposed—I never + imagined”— + </p> + <p> + “That I was in love with her?” Roderick interrupted. “Neither did I, until + this last fortnight. But you came and put me into such ridiculous + good-humor that I felt an extraordinary desire to tell some woman that I + adored her. Miss Garland is a magnificent girl; you know her too little to + do her justice. I have been quietly learning to know her, these past three + months, and have been falling in love with her without being conscious of + it. It appeared, when I spoke to her, that she had a kindness for me. So + the thing was settled. I must of course make some money before we can + marry. It ‘s rather droll, certainly, to engage one’s self to a girl whom + one is going to leave the next day, for years. We shall be condemned, for + some time to come, to do a terrible deal of abstract thinking about each + other. But I wanted her blessing on my career and I could not help asking + for it. Unless a man is unnaturally selfish he needs to work for some one + else than himself, and I am sure I shall run a smoother and swifter course + for knowing that that fine creature is waiting, at Northampton, for news + of my greatness. If ever I am a dull companion and over-addicted to + moping, remember in justice to me that I am in love and that my sweetheart + is five thousand miles away.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland listened to all this with a sort of feeling that fortune had + played him an elaborately-devised trick. It had lured him out into + mid-ocean and smoothed the sea and stilled the winds and given him a + singularly sympathetic comrade, and then it had turned and delivered him a + thumping blow in mid-chest. “Yes,” he said, after an attempt at the usual + formal congratulation, “you certainly ought to do better—with Miss + Garland waiting for you at Northampton.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick, now that he had broken ground, was eloquent and rung a hundred + changes on the assurance that he was a very happy man. Then at last, + suddenly, his climax was a yawn, and he declared that he must go to bed. + Rowland let him go alone, and sat there late, between sea and sky. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. Rome + </h2> + <p> + One warm, still day, late in the Roman autumn, our two young men were + sitting beneath one of the high-stemmed pines of the Villa Ludovisi. They + had been spending an hour in the mouldy little garden-house, where the + colossal mask of the famous Juno looks out with blank eyes from that dusky + corner which must seem to her the last possible stage of a lapse from + Olympus. Then they had wandered out into the gardens, and were lounging + away the morning under the spell of their magical picturesqueness. + Roderick declared that he would go nowhere else; that, after the Juno, it + was a profanation to look at anything but sky and trees. There was a + fresco of Guercino, to which Rowland, though he had seen it on his former + visit to Rome, went dutifully to pay his respects. But Roderick, though he + had never seen it, declared that it could n’t be worth a fig, and that he + did n’t care to look at ugly things. He remained stretched on his + overcoat, which he had spread on the grass, while Rowland went off envying + the intellectual comfort of genius, which can arrive at serene conclusions + without disagreeable processes. When the latter came back, his friend was + sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Rowland, + in the geniality of a mood attuned to the mellow charm of a Roman villa, + found a good word to say for the Guercino; but he chiefly talked of the + view from the little belvedere on the roof of the casino, and how it + looked like the prospect from a castle turret in a fairy tale. + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” said Roderick, throwing himself back with a yawn. “But I + must let it pass. I have seen enough for the present; I have reached the + top of the hill. I have an indigestion of impressions; I must work them + off before I go in for any more. I don’t want to look at any more of other + people’s works, for a month—not even at Nature’s own. I want to look + at Roderick Hudson’s. The result of it all is that I ‘m not afraid. I can + but try, as well as the rest of them! The fellow who did that gazing + goddess yonder only made an experiment. The other day, when I was looking + at Michael Angelo’s Moses, I was seized with a kind of defiance—a + reaction against all this mere passive enjoyment of grandeur. It was a + rousing great success, certainly, that rose there before me, but somehow + it was not an inscrutable mystery, and it seemed to me, not perhaps that I + should some day do as well, but that at least I might!” + </p> + <p> + “As you say, you can but try,” said Rowland. “Success is only passionate + effort.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, the passion is blazing; we have been piling on fuel handsomely. It + came over me just now that it is exactly three months to a day since I + left Northampton. I can’t believe it!” + </p> + <p> + “It certainly seems more.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems like ten years. What an exquisite ass I was!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you feel so wise now?” + </p> + <p> + “Verily! Don’t I look so? Surely I have n’t the same face. Have n’t I a + different eye, a different expression, a different voice?” + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly say, because I have seen the transition. But it ‘s very + likely. You are, in the literal sense of the word, more civilized. I dare + say,” added Rowland, “that Miss Garland would think so.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s not what she would call it; she would say I was corrupted.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland asked few questions about Miss Garland, but he always listened + narrowly to his companion’s voluntary observations. + </p> + <p> + “Are you very sure?” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Why, she ‘s a stern moralist, and she would infer from my appearance that + I had become a cynical sybarite.” Roderick had, in fact, a Venetian + watch-chain round his neck and a magnificent Roman intaglio on the third + finger of his left hand. + </p> + <p> + “Will you think I take a liberty,” asked Rowland, “if I say you judge her + superficially?” + </p> + <p> + “For heaven’s sake,” cried Roderick, laughing, “don’t tell me she ‘s not a + moralist! It was for that I fell in love with her, and with rigid virtue + in her person.” + </p> + <p> + “She is a moralist, but not, as you imply, a narrow one. That ‘s more than + a difference in degree; it ‘s a difference in kind. I don’t know whether I + ever mentioned it, but I admire her extremely. There is nothing narrow + about her but her experience; everything else is large. My impression of + her is of a person of great capacity, as yet wholly unmeasured and + untested. Some day or other, I ‘m sure, she will judge fairly and wisely + of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay a bit!” cried Roderick; “you ‘re a better Catholic than the Pope. I + shall be content if she judges fairly of me—of my merits, that is. + The rest she must not judge at all. She ‘s a grimly devoted little + creature; may she always remain so! Changed as I am, I adore her none the + less. What becomes of all our emotions, our impressions,” he went on, + after a long pause, “all the material of thought that life pours into us + at such a rate during such a memorable three months as these? There are + twenty moments a week—a day, for that matter, some days—that + seem supreme, twenty impressions that seem ultimate, that appear to form + an intellectual era. But others come treading on their heels and sweeping + them along, and they all melt like water into water and settle the + question of precedence among themselves. The curious thing is that the + more the mind takes in, the more it has space for, and that all one’s + ideas are like the Irish people at home who live in the different corners + of a room, and take boarders.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy it is our peculiar good luck that we don’t see the limits of our + minds,” said Rowland. “We are young, compared with what we may one day be. + That belongs to youth; it is perhaps the best part of it. They say that + old people do find themselves at last face to face with a solid blank + wall, and stand thumping against it in vain. It resounds, it seems to have + something beyond it, but it won’t move! That ‘s only a reason for living + with open doors as long as we can!” + </p> + <p> + “Open doors?” murmured Roderick. “Yes, let us close no doors that open + upon Rome. For this, for the mind, is eternal summer! But though my doors + may stand open to-day,” he presently added, “I shall see no visitors. I + want to pause and breathe; I want to dream of a statue. I have been + working hard for three months; I have earned a right to a reverie.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland, on his side, was not without provision for reflection, and they + lingered on in broken, desultory talk. Rowland felt the need for + intellectual rest, for a truce to present care for churches, statues, and + pictures, on even better grounds than his companion, inasmuch as he had + really been living Roderick’s intellectual life the past three months, as + well as his own. As he looked back on these full-flavored weeks, he drew a + long breath of satisfaction, almost of relief. Roderick, thus far, had + justified his confidence and flattered his perspicacity; he was rapidly + unfolding into an ideal brilliancy. He was changed even more than he + himself suspected; he had stepped, without faltering, into his birthright, + and was spending money, intellectually, as lavishly as a young heir who + has just won an obstructive lawsuit. Roderick’s glance and voice were the + same, doubtless, as when they enlivened the summer dusk on Cecilia’s + veranda, but in his person, generally, there was an indefinable expression + of experience rapidly and easily assimilated. Rowland had been struck at + the outset with the instinctive quickness of his observation and his free + appropriation of whatever might serve his purpose. He had not been, for + instance, half an hour on English soil before he perceived that he was + dressed like a rustic, and he had immediately reformed his toilet with the + most unerring tact. His appetite for novelty was insatiable, and for + everything characteristically foreign, as it presented itself, he had an + extravagant greeting; but in half an hour the novelty had faded, he had + guessed the secret, he had plucked out the heart of the mystery and was + clamoring for a keener sensation. At the end of a month, he presented, + mentally, a puzzling spectacle to his companion. He had caught, + instinctively, the key-note of the old world. He observed and enjoyed, he + criticised and rhapsodized, but though all things interested him and many + delighted him, none surprised him; he had divined their logic and measured + their proportions, and referred them infallibly to their categories. + Witnessing the rate at which he did intellectual execution on the general + spectacle of European life, Rowland at moments felt vaguely uneasy for the + future; the boy was living too fast, he would have said, and giving + alarming pledges to ennui in his later years. But we must live as our + pulses are timed, and Roderick’s struck the hour very often. He was, by + imagination, though he never became in manner, a natural man of the world; + he had intuitively, as an artist, what one may call the historic + consciousness. He had a relish for social subtleties and mysteries, and, + in perception, when occasion offered him an inch he never failed to take + an ell. A single glimpse of a social situation of the elder type enabled + him to construct the whole, with all its complex chiaroscuro, and Rowland + more than once assured him that he made him believe in the metempsychosis, + and that he must have lived in European society, in the last century, as a + gentleman in a cocked hat and brocaded waistcoat. Hudson asked Rowland + questions which poor Rowland was quite unable to answer, and of which he + was equally unable to conceive where he had picked up the data. Roderick + ended by answering them himself, tolerably to his satisfaction, and in a + short time he had almost turned the tables and become in their walks and + talks the accredited source of information. Rowland told him that when he + turned sculptor a capital novelist was spoiled, and that to match his eye + for social detail one would have to go to Honore de Balzac. In all this + Rowland took a generous pleasure; he felt an especial kindness for his + comrade’s radiant youthfulness of temperament. He was so much younger than + he himself had ever been! And surely youth and genius, hand in hand, were + the most beautiful sight in the world. Roderick added to this the charm of + his more immediately personal qualities. The vivacity of his perceptions, + the audacity of his imagination, the picturesqueness of his phrase when he + was pleased,—and even more when he was displeased,—his + abounding good-humor, his candor, his unclouded frankness, his unfailing + impulse to share every emotion and impression with his friend; all this + made comradeship a pure felicity, and interfused with a deeper amenity + their long evening talks at cafe doors in Italian towns. + </p> + <p> + They had gone almost immediately to Paris, and had spent their days at the + Louvre and their evenings at the theatre. Roderick was divided in mind as + to whether Titian or Mademoiselle Delaporte was the greater artist. They + had come down through France to Genoa and Milan, had spent a fortnight in + Venice and another in Florence, and had now been a month in Rome. Roderick + had said that he meant to spend three months in simply looking, absorbing, + and reflecting, without putting pencil to paper. He looked indefatigably, + and certainly saw great things—things greater, doubtless, at times, + than the intentions of the artist. And yet he made few false steps and + wasted little time in theories of what he ought to like and to dislike. He + judged instinctively and passionately, but never vulgarly. At Venice, for + a couple of days, he had half a fit of melancholy over the pretended + discovery that he had missed his way, and that the only proper vestment of + plastic conceptions was the coloring of Titian and Paul Veronese. Then one + morning the two young men had themselves rowed out to Torcello, and + Roderick lay back for a couple of hours watching a brown-breasted + gondolier making superb muscular movements, in high relief, against the + sky of the Adriatic, and at the end jerked himself up with a violence that + nearly swamped the gondola, and declared that the only thing worth living + for was to make a colossal bronze and set it aloft in the light of a + public square. In Rome his first care was for the Vatican; he went there + again and again. But the old imperial and papal city altogether delighted + him; only there he really found what he had been looking for from the + first—the complete antipodes of Northampton. And indeed Rome is the + natural home of those spirits with which we just now claimed fellowship + for Roderick—the spirits with a deep relish for the artificial + element in life and the infinite superpositions of history. It is the + immemorial city of convention. The stagnant Roman air is charged with + convention; it colors the yellow light and deepens the chilly shadows. And + in that still recent day the most impressive convention in all history was + visible to men’s eyes, in the Roman streets, erect in a gilded coach drawn + by four black horses. Roderick’s first fortnight was a high aesthetic + revel. He declared that Rome made him feel and understand more things than + he could express: he was sure that life must have there, for all one’s + senses, an incomparable fineness; that more interesting things must happen + to one than anywhere else. And he gave Rowland to understand that he meant + to live freely and largely, and be as interested as occasion demanded. + Rowland saw no reason to regard this as a menace of dissipation, because, + in the first place, there was in all dissipation, refine it as one might, + a grossness which would disqualify it for Roderick’s favor, and because, + in the second, the young sculptor was a man to regard all things in the + light of his art, to hand over his passions to his genius to be dealt + with, and to find that he could live largely enough without exceeding the + circle of wholesome curiosity. Rowland took immense satisfaction in his + companion’s deep impatience to make something of all his impressions. Some + of these indeed found their way into a channel which did not lead to + statues, but it was none the less a safe one. He wrote frequent long + letters to Miss Garland; when Rowland went with him to post them he + thought wistfully of the fortune of the great loosely-written missives, + which cost Roderick unconscionable sums in postage. He received punctual + answers of a more frugal form, written in a clear, minute hand, on paper + vexatiously thin. If Rowland was present when they came, he turned away + and thought of other things—or tried to. These were the only moments + when his sympathy halted, and they were brief. For the rest he let the + days go by unprotestingly, and enjoyed Roderick’s serene efflorescence as + he would have done a beautiful summer sunrise. Rome, for the past month, + had been delicious. The annual descent of the Goths had not yet begun, and + sunny leisure seemed to brood over the city. + </p> + <p> + Roderick had taken out a note-book and was roughly sketching a memento of + the great Juno. Suddenly there was a noise on the gravel, and the young + men, looking up, saw three persons advancing. One was a woman of middle + age, with a rather grand air and a great many furbelows. She looked very + hard at our friends as she passed, and glanced back over her shoulder, as + if to hasten the step of a young girl who slowly followed her. She had + such an expansive majesty of mien that Rowland supposed she must have some + proprietary right in the villa and was not just then in a hospitable mood. + Beside her walked a little elderly man, tightly buttoned in a shabby black + coat, but with a flower in his lappet, and a pair of soiled light gloves. + He was a grotesque-looking personage, and might have passed for a + gentleman of the old school, reduced by adversity to playing cicerone to + foreigners of distinction. He had a little black eye which glittered like + a diamond and rolled about like a ball of quicksilver, and a white + moustache, cut short and stiff, like a worn-out brush. He was smiling with + extreme urbanity, and talking in a low, mellifluous voice to the lady, who + evidently was not listening to him. At a considerable distance behind this + couple strolled a young girl, apparently of about twenty. She was tall and + slender, and dressed with extreme elegance; she led by a cord a large + poodle of the most fantastic aspect. He was combed and decked like a ram + for sacrifice; his trunk and haunches were of the most transparent pink, + his fleecy head and shoulders as white as jeweler’s cotton, and his tail + and ears ornamented with long blue ribbons. He stepped along stiffly and + solemnly beside his mistress, with an air of conscious elegance. There was + something at first slightly ridiculous in the sight of a young lady + gravely appended to an animal of these incongruous attributes, and + Roderick, with his customary frankness, greeted the spectacle with a + confident smile. The young girl perceived it and turned her face full upon + him, with a gaze intended apparently to enforce greater deference. It was + not deference, however, her face provoked, but startled, submissive + admiration; Roderick’s smile fell dead, and he sat eagerly staring. A pair + of extraordinary dark blue eyes, a mass of dusky hair over a low forehead, + a blooming oval of perfect purity, a flexible lip, just touched with + disdain, the step and carriage of a tired princess—these were the + general features of his vision. The young lady was walking slowly and + letting her long dress rustle over the gravel; the young men had time to + see her distinctly before she averted her face and went her way. She left + a vague, sweet perfume behind her as she passed. + </p> + <p> + “Immortal powers!” cried Roderick, “what a vision! In the name of + transcendent perfection, who is she?” He sprang up and stood looking after + her until she rounded a turn in the avenue. “What a movement, what a + manner, what a poise of the head! I wonder if she would sit to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better go and ask her,” said Rowland, laughing. “She is certainly + most beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful? She ‘s beauty itself—she ‘s a revelation. I don’t + believe she is living—she ‘s a phantasm, a vapor, an illusion!” + </p> + <p> + “The poodle,” said Rowland, “is certainly alive.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, he too may be a grotesque phantom, like the black dog in Faust.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope at least that the young lady has nothing in common with + Mephistopheles. She looked dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “If beauty is immoral, as people think at Northampton,” said Roderick, + “she is the incarnation of evil. The mamma and the queer old gentleman, + moreover, are a pledge of her reality. Who are they all?” + </p> + <p> + “The Prince and Princess Ludovisi and the principessina,” suggested + Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “There are no such people,” said Roderick. “Besides, the little old man is + not the papa.” Rowland smiled, wondering how he had ascertained these + facts, and the young sculptor went on. “The old man is a Roman, a + hanger-on of the mamma, a useful personage who now and then gets asked to + dinner. The ladies are foreigners, from some Northern country; I won’t say + which.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps from the State of Maine,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “No, she ‘s not an American, I ‘ll lay a wager on that. She ‘s a daughter + of this elder world. We shall see her again, I pray my stars; but if we + don’t, I shall have done something I never expected to—I shall have + had a glimpse of ideal beauty.” He sat down again and went on with his + sketch of the Juno, scrawled away for ten minutes, and then handed the + result in silence to Rowland. Rowland uttered an exclamation of surprise + and applause. The drawing represented the Juno as to the position of the + head, the brow, and the broad fillet across the hair; but the eyes, the + mouth, the physiognomy were a vivid portrait of the young girl with the + poodle. “I have been wanting a subject,” said Roderick: “there ‘s one made + to my hand! And now for work!” + </p> + <p> + They saw no more of the young girl, though Roderick looked hopefully, for + some days, into the carriages on the Pincian. She had evidently been but + passing through Rome; Naples or Florence now happily possessed her, and + she was guiding her fleecy companion through the Villa Reale or the Boboli + Gardens with the same superb defiance of irony. Roderick went to work and + spent a month shut up in his studio; he had an idea, and he was not to + rest till he had embodied it. He had established himself in the basement + of a huge, dusky, dilapidated old house, in that long, tortuous, and + preeminently Roman street which leads from the Corso to the Bridge of St. + Angelo. The black archway which admitted you might have served as the + portal of the Augean stables, but you emerged presently upon a mouldy + little court, of which the fourth side was formed by a narrow terrace, + overhanging the Tiber. Here, along the parapet, were stationed half a + dozen shapeless fragments of sculpture, with a couple of meagre + orange-trees in terra-cotta tubs, and an oleander that never flowered. The + unclean, historic river swept beneath; behind were dusky, reeking walls, + spotted here and there with hanging rags and flower-pots in windows; + opposite, at a distance, were the bare brown banks of the stream, the huge + rotunda of St. Angelo, tipped with its seraphic statue, the dome of St. + Peter’s, and the broad-topped pines of the Villa Doria. The place was + crumbling and shabby and melancholy, but the river was delightful, the + rent was a trifle, and everything was picturesque. Roderick was in the + best humor with his quarters from the first, and was certain that the + working mood there would be intenser in an hour than in twenty years of + Northampton. His studio was a huge, empty room with a vaulted ceiling, + covered with vague, dark traces of an old fresco, which Rowland, when he + spent an hour with his friend, used to stare at vainly for some surviving + coherence of floating draperies and clasping arms. Roderick had lodged + himself economically in the same quarter. He occupied a fifth floor on the + Ripetta, but he was only at home to sleep, for when he was not at work he + was either lounging in Rowland’s more luxurious rooms or strolling through + streets and churches and gardens. + </p> + <p> + Rowland had found a convenient corner in a stately old palace not far from + the Fountain of Trevi, and made himself a home to which books and pictures + and prints and odds and ends of curious furniture gave an air of leisurely + permanence. He had the tastes of a collector; he spent half his afternoons + ransacking the dusty magazines of the curiosity-mongers, and often made + his way, in quest of a prize, into the heart of impecunious Roman + households, which had been prevailed upon to listen—with closed + doors and an impenetrably wary smile—to proposals for an hereditary + “antique.” In the evening, often, under the lamp, amid dropped curtains + and the scattered gleam of firelight upon polished carvings and mellow + paintings, the two friends sat with their heads together, criticising + intaglios and etchings, water-color drawings and illuminated missals. + Roderick’s quick appreciation of every form of artistic beauty reminded + his companion of the flexible temperament of those Italian artists of the + sixteenth century who were indifferently painters and sculptors, + sonneteers and engravers. At times when he saw how the young sculptor’s + day passed in a single sustained pulsation, while his own was broken into + a dozen conscious devices for disposing of the hours, and intermingled + with sighs, half suppressed, some of them, for conscience’ sake, over what + he failed of in action and missed in possession—he felt a pang of + something akin to envy. But Rowland had two substantial aids for giving + patience the air of contentment: he was an inquisitive reader and a + passionate rider. He plunged into bulky German octavos on Italian history, + and he spent long afternoons in the saddle, ranging over the grassy + desolation of the Campagna. As the season went on and the social groups + began to constitute themselves, he found that he knew a great many people + and that he had easy opportunity for knowing others. He enjoyed a quiet + corner of a drawing-room beside an agreeable woman, and although the + machinery of what calls itself society seemed to him to have many + superfluous wheels, he accepted invitations and made visits punctiliously, + from the conviction that the only way not to be overcome by the ridiculous + side of most of such observances is to take them with exaggerated gravity. + He introduced Roderick right and left, and suffered him to make his way + himself—an enterprise for which Roderick very soon displayed an + all-sufficient capacity. Wherever he went he made, not exactly what is + called a favorable impression, but what, from a practical point of view, + is better—a puzzling one. He took to evening parties as a duck to + water, and before the winter was half over was the most freely and + frequently discussed young man in the heterogeneous foreign colony. + Rowland’s theory of his own duty was to let him run his course and play + his cards, only holding himself ready to point out shoals and pitfalls, + and administer a friendly propulsion through tight places. Roderick’s + manners on the precincts of the Pincian were quite the same as his manners + on Cecilia’s veranda: that is, they were no manners at all. But it + remained as true as before that it would have been impossible, on the + whole, to violate ceremony with less of lasting offense. He interrupted, + he contradicted, he spoke to people he had never seen, and left his social + creditors without the smallest conversational interest on their loans; he + lounged and yawned, he talked loud when he should have talked low, and low + when he should have talked loud. Many people, in consequence, thought him + insufferably conceited, and declared that he ought to wait till he had + something to show for his powers, before he assumed the airs of a spoiled + celebrity. But to Rowland and to most friendly observers this judgment was + quite beside the mark, and the young man’s undiluted naturalness was its + own justification. He was impulsive, spontaneous, sincere; there were so + many people at dinner-tables and in studios who were not, that it seemed + worth while to allow this rare specimen all possible freedom of action. If + Roderick took the words out of your mouth when you were just prepared to + deliver them with the most effective accent, he did it with a perfect good + conscience and with no pretension of a better right to being heard, but + simply because he was full to overflowing of his own momentary thought and + it sprang from his lips without asking leave. There were persons who + waited on your periods much more deferentially, who were a hundred times + more capable than Roderick of a reflective impertinence. Roderick received + from various sources, chiefly feminine, enough finely-adjusted advice to + have established him in life as an embodiment of the proprieties, and he + received it, as he afterwards listened to criticisms on his statues, with + unfaltering candor and good-humor. Here and there, doubtless, as he went, + he took in a reef in his sail; but he was too adventurous a spirit to be + successfully tamed, and he remained at most points the florid, rather + strident young Virginian whose serene inflexibility had been the despair + of Mr. Striker. All this was what friendly commentators (still chiefly + feminine) alluded to when they spoke of his delightful freshness, and + critics of harsher sensibilities (of the other sex) when they denounced + his damned impertinence. His appearance enforced these impressions—his + handsome face, his radiant, unaverted eyes, his childish, unmodulated + voice. Afterwards, when those who loved him were in tears, there was + something in all this unspotted comeliness that seemed to lend a mockery + to the causes of their sorrow. + </p> + <p> + Certainly, among the young men of genius who, for so many ages, have gone + up to Rome to test their powers, none ever made a fairer beginning than + Roderick. He rode his two horses at once with extraordinary good fortune; + he established the happiest modus vivendi betwixt work and play. He + wrestled all day with a mountain of clay in his studio, and chattered half + the night away in Roman drawing-rooms. It all seemed part of a kind of + divine facility. He was passionately interested, he was feeling his + powers; now that they had thoroughly kindled in the glowing aesthetic + atmosphere of Rome, the ardent young fellow should be pardoned for + believing that he never was to see the end of them. He enjoyed + immeasurably, after the chronic obstruction of home, the downright act of + production. He kept models in his studio till they dropped with fatigue; + he drew, on other days, at the Capitol and the Vatican, till his own head + swam with his eagerness, and his limbs stiffened with the cold. He had + promptly set up a life-sized figure which he called an “Adam,” and was + pushing it rapidly toward completion. There were naturally a great many + wiseheads who smiled at his precipitancy, and cited him as one more + example of Yankee crudity, a capital recruit to the great army of those + who wish to dance before they can walk. They were right, but Roderick was + right too, for the success of his statue was not to have been foreseen; it + partook, really, of the miraculous. He never surpassed it afterwards, and + a good judge here and there has been known to pronounce it the finest + piece of sculpture of our modern era. To Rowland it seemed to justify + superbly his highest hopes of his friend, and he said to himself that if + he had invested his happiness in fostering a genius, he ought now to be in + possession of a boundless complacency. There was something especially + confident and masterly in the artist’s negligence of all such small + picturesque accessories as might serve to label his figure to a vulgar + apprehension. If it represented the father of the human race and the + primal embodiment of human sensation, it did so in virtue of its look of + balanced physical perfection, and deeply, eagerly sentient vitality. + Rowland, in fraternal zeal, traveled up to Carrara and selected at the + quarries the most magnificent block of marble he could find, and when it + came down to Rome, the two young men had a “celebration.” They drove out + to Albano, breakfasted boisterously (in their respective measure) at the + inn, and lounged away the day in the sun on the top of Monte Cavo. + Roderick’s head was full of ideas for other works, which he described with + infinite spirit and eloquence, as vividly as if they were ranged on their + pedestals before him. He had an indefatigable fancy; things he saw in the + streets, in the country, things he heard and read, effects he saw just + missed or half-expressed in the works of others, acted upon his mind as a + kind of challenge, and he was terribly restless until, in some form or + other, he had taken up the glove and set his lance in rest. + </p> + <p> + The Adam was put into marble, and all the world came to see it. Of the + criticisms passed upon it this history undertakes to offer no record; over + many of them the two young men had a daily laugh for a month, and certain + of the formulas of the connoisseurs, restrictive or indulgent, furnished + Roderick with a permanent supply of humorous catch-words. But people + enough spoke flattering good-sense to make Roderick feel as if he were + already half famous. The statue passed formally into Rowland’s possession, + and was paid for as if an illustrious name had been chiseled on the + pedestal. Poor Roderick owed every franc of the money. It was not for + this, however, but because he was so gloriously in the mood, that, denying + himself all breathing-time, on the same day he had given the last touch to + the Adam, he began to shape the rough contour of an Eve. This went forward + with equal rapidity and success. Roderick lost his temper, time and again, + with his models, who offered but a gross, degenerate image of his splendid + ideal; but his ideal, as he assured Rowland, became gradually such a + fixed, vivid presence, that he had only to shut his eyes to behold a + creature far more to his purpose than the poor girl who stood posturing at + forty sous an hour. The Eve was finished in a month, and the feat was + extraordinary, as well as the statue, which represented an admirably + beautiful woman. When the spring began to muffle the rugged old city with + its clambering festoons, it seemed to him that he had done a handsome + winter’s work and had fairly earned a holiday. He took a liberal one, and + lounged away the lovely Roman May, doing nothing. He looked very + contented; with himself, perhaps, at times, a trifle too obviously. But + who could have said without good reason? He was “flushed with triumph;” + this classic phrase portrayed him, to Rowland’s sense. He would lose + himself in long reveries, and emerge from them with a quickened smile and + a heightened color. Rowland grudged him none of his smiles, and took an + extreme satisfaction in his two statues. He had the Adam and the Eve + transported to his own apartment, and one warm evening in May he gave a + little dinner in honor of the artist. It was small, but Rowland had meant + it should be very agreeably composed. He thought over his friends and + chose four. They were all persons with whom he lived in a certain + intimacy. + </p> + <p> + One of them was an American sculptor of French extraction, or remotely, + perhaps, of Italian, for he rejoiced in the somewhat fervid name of + Gloriani. He was a man of forty, he had been living for years in Paris and + in Rome, and he now drove a very pretty trade in sculpture of the + ornamental and fantastic sort. In his youth he had had money; but he had + spent it recklessly, much of it scandalously, and at twenty-six had found + himself obliged to make capital of his talent. This was quite inimitable, + and fifteen years of indefatigable exercise had brought it to perfection. + Rowland admitted its power, though it gave him very little pleasure; what + he relished in the man was the extraordinary vivacity and frankness, not + to call it the impudence, of his ideas. He had a definite, practical + scheme of art, and he knew at least what he meant. In this sense he was + solid and complete. There were so many of the aesthetic fraternity who + were floundering in unknown seas, without a notion of which way their + noses were turned, that Gloriani, conscious and compact, unlimitedly + intelligent and consummately clever, dogmatic only as to his own duties, + and at once gracefully deferential and profoundly indifferent to those of + others, had for Rowland a certain intellectual refreshment quite + independent of the character of his works. These were considered by most + people to belong to a very corrupt, and by many to a positively indecent + school. Others thought them tremendously knowing, and paid enormous prices + for them; and indeed, to be able to point to one of Gloriani’s figures in + a shady corner of your library was tolerable proof that you were not a + fool. Corrupt things they certainly were; in the line of sculpture they + were quite the latest fruit of time. It was the artist’s opinion that + there is no essential difference between beauty and ugliness; that they + overlap and intermingle in a quite inextricable manner; that there is no + saying where one begins and the other ends; that hideousness grimaces at + you suddenly from out of the very bosom of loveliness, and beauty blooms + before your eyes in the lap of vileness; that it is a waste of wit to + nurse metaphysical distinctions, and a sadly meagre entertainment to + caress imaginary lines; that the thing to aim at is the expressive, and + the way to reach it is by ingenuity; that for this purpose everything may + serve, and that a consummate work is a sort of hotch-potch of the pure and + the impure, the graceful and the grotesque. Its prime duty is to amuse, to + puzzle, to fascinate, to savor of a complex imagination. Gloriani’s + statues were florid and meretricious; they looked like magnified + goldsmith’s work. They were extremely elegant, but they had no charm for + Rowland. He never bought one, but Gloriani was such an honest fellow, and + withal was so deluged with orders, that this made no difference in their + friendship. The artist might have passed for a Frenchman. He was a great + talker, and a very picturesque one; he was almost bald; he had a small, + bright eye, a broken nose, and a moustache with waxed ends. When sometimes + he received you at his lodging, he introduced you to a lady with a plain + face whom he called Madame Gloriani—which she was not. + </p> + <p> + Rowland’s second guest was also an artist, but of a very different type. + His friends called him Sam Singleton; he was an American, and he had been + in Rome a couple of years. He painted small landscapes, chiefly in + water-colors: Rowland had seen one of them in a shop window, had liked it + extremely, and, ascertaining his address, had gone to see him and found + him established in a very humble studio near the Piazza Barberini, where, + apparently, fame and fortune had not yet found him out. Rowland took a + fancy to him and bought several of his pictures; Singleton made few + speeches, but was grateful. Rowland heard afterwards that when he first + came to Rome he painted worthless daubs and gave no promise of talent. + Improvement had come, however, hand in hand with patient industry, and his + talent, though of a slender and delicate order, was now incontestable. It + was as yet but scantily recognized, and he had hard work to live. Rowland + hung his little water-colors on the parlor wall, and found that, as he + lived with them, he grew very fond of them. Singleton was a diminutive, + dwarfish personage; he looked like a precocious child. He had a high, + protuberant forehead, a transparent brown eye, a perpetual smile, an + extraordinary expression of modesty and patience. He listened much more + willingly than he talked, with a little fixed, grateful grin; he blushed + when he spoke, and always offered his ideas in a sidelong fashion, as if + the presumption were against them. His modesty set them off, and they were + eminently to the point. He was so perfect an example of the little + noiseless, laborious artist whom chance, in the person of a moneyed + patron, has never taken by the hand, that Rowland would have liked to + befriend him by stealth. Singleton had expressed a fervent admiration for + Roderick’s productions, but had not yet met the young master. Roderick was + lounging against the chimney-piece when he came in, and Rowland presently + introduced him. The little water-colorist stood with folded hands, + blushing, smiling, and looking up at him as if Roderick were himself a + statue on a pedestal. Singleton began to murmur something about his + pleasure, his admiration; the desire to make his compliment smoothly gave + him a kind of grotesque formalism. Roderick looked down at him surprised, + and suddenly burst into a laugh. Singleton paused a moment and then, with + an intenser smile, went on: “Well, sir, your statues are beautiful, all + the same!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland’s two other guests were ladies, and one of them, Miss Blanchard, + belonged also to the artistic fraternity. She was an American, she was + young, she was pretty, and she had made her way to Rome alone and unaided. + She lived alone, or with no other duenna than a bushy-browed old + serving-woman, though indeed she had a friendly neighbor in the person of + a certain Madame Grandoni, who in various social emergencies lent her a + protecting wing, and had come with her to Rowland’s dinner. Miss Blanchard + had a little money, but she was not above selling her pictures. These + represented generally a bunch of dew-sprinkled roses, with the dew-drops + very highly finished, or else a wayside shrine, and a peasant woman, with + her back turned, kneeling before it. She did backs very well, but she was + a little weak in faces. Flowers, however, were her speciality, and though + her touch was a little old-fashioned and finical, she painted them with + remarkable skill. Her pictures were chiefly bought by the English. Rowland + had made her acquaintance early in the winter, and as she kept a saddle + horse and rode a great deal, he had asked permission to be her cavalier. + In this way they had become almost intimate. Miss Blanchard’s name was + Augusta; she was slender, pale, and elegant looking; she had a very pretty + head and brilliant auburn hair, which she braided with classical + simplicity. She talked in a sweet, soft voice, used language at times a + trifle superfine, and made literary allusions. These had often a patriotic + strain, and Rowland had more than once been irritated by her quotations + from Mrs. Sigourney in the cork-woods of Monte Mario, and from Mr. Willis + among the ruins of Veii. Rowland was of a dozen different minds about her, + and was half surprised, at times, to find himself treating it as a matter + of serious moment whether he liked her or not. He admired her, and indeed + there was something admirable in her combination of beauty and talent, of + isolation and tranquil self-support. He used sometimes to go into the + little, high-niched, ordinary room which served her as a studio, and find + her working at a panel six inches square, at an open casement, profiled + against the deep blue Roman sky. She received him with a meek-eyed dignity + that made her seem like a painted saint on a church window, receiving the + daylight in all her being. The breath of reproach passed her by with + folded wings. And yet Rowland wondered why he did not like her better. If + he failed, the reason was not far to seek. There was another woman whom he + liked better, an image in his heart which refused to yield precedence. + </p> + <p> + On that evening to which allusion has been made, when Rowland was left + alone between the starlight and the waves with the sudden knowledge that + Mary Garland was to become another man’s wife, he had made, after a while, + the simple resolution to forget her. And every day since, like a famous + philosopher who wished to abbreviate his mourning for a faithful servant, + he had said to himself in substance—“Remember to forget Mary + Garland.” Sometimes it seemed as if he were succeeding; then, suddenly, + when he was least expecting it, he would find her name, inaudibly, on his + lips, and seem to see her eyes meeting his eyes. All this made him + uncomfortable, and seemed to portend a possible discord. Discord was not + to his taste; he shrank from imperious passions, and the idea of finding + himself jealous of an unsuspecting friend was absolutely repulsive. More + than ever, then, the path of duty was to forget Mary Garland, and he + cultivated oblivion, as we may say, in the person of Miss Blanchard. Her + fine temper, he said to himself, was a trifle cold and conscious, her + purity prudish, perhaps, her culture pedantic. But since he was obliged to + give up hopes of Mary Garland, Providence owed him a compensation, and he + had fits of angry sadness in which it seemed to him that to attest his + right to sentimental satisfaction he would be capable of falling in love + with a woman he absolutely detested, if she were the best that came in his + way. And what was the use, after all, of bothering about a possible which + was only, perhaps, a dream? Even if Mary Garland had been free, what right + had he to assume that he would have pleased her? The actual was good + enough. Miss Blanchard had beautiful hair, and if she was a trifle + old-maidish, there is nothing like matrimony for curing old-maidishness. + </p> + <p> + Madame Grandoni, who had formed with the companion of Rowland’s rides an + alliance which might have been called defensive on the part of the former + and attractive on that of Miss Blanchard, was an excessively ugly old + lady, highly esteemed in Roman society for her homely benevolence and her + shrewd and humorous good sense. She had been the widow of a German + archaeologist, who had come to Rome in the early ages as an attache of the + Prussian legation on the Capitoline. Her good sense had been wanting on + but a single occasion, that of her second marriage. This occasion was + certainly a momentous one, but these, by common consent, are not test + cases. A couple of years after her first husband’s death, she had accepted + the hand and the name of a Neapolitan music-master, ten years younger than + herself, and with no fortune but his fiddle-bow. The marriage was most + unhappy, and the Maestro Grandoni was suspected of using the fiddle-bow as + an instrument of conjugal correction. He had finally run off with a prima + donna assoluta, who, it was to be hoped, had given him a taste of the + quality implied in her title. He was believed to be living still, but he + had shrunk to a small black spot in Madame Grandoni’s life, and for ten + years she had not mentioned his name. She wore a light flaxen wig, which + was never very artfully adjusted, but this mattered little, as she made no + secret of it. She used to say, “I was not always so ugly as this; as a + young girl I had beautiful golden hair, very much the color of my wig.” + She had worn from time immemorial an old blue satin dress, and a white + crape shawl embroidered in colors; her appearance was ridiculous, but she + had an interminable Teutonic pedigree, and her manners, in every presence, + were easy and jovial, as became a lady whose ancestor had been cup-bearer + to Frederick Barbarossa. Thirty years’ observation of Roman society had + sharpened her wits and given her an inexhaustible store of anecdotes, but + she had beneath her crumpled bodice a deep-welling fund of Teutonic + sentiment, which she communicated only to the objects of her particular + favor. Rowland had a great regard for her, and she repaid it by wishing + him to get married. She never saw him without whispering to him that + Augusta Blanchard was just the girl. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Rowland a sort of foreshadowing of matrimony to see Miss + Blanchard standing gracefully on his hearth-rug and blooming behind the + central bouquet at his circular dinner-table. The dinner was very + prosperous and Roderick amply filled his position as hero of the feast. He + had always an air of buoyant enjoyment in his work, but on this occasion + he manifested a good deal of harmless pleasure in his glory. He drank + freely and talked bravely; he leaned back in his chair with his hands in + his pockets, and flung open the gates of his eloquence. Singleton sat + gazing and listening open-mouthed, as if Apollo in person were talking. + Gloriani showed a twinkle in his eye and an evident disposition to draw + Roderick out. Rowland was rather regretful, for he knew that theory was + not his friend’s strong point, and that it was never fair to take his + measure from his talk. + </p> + <p> + “As you have begun with Adam and Eve,” said Gloriani, “I suppose you are + going straight through the Bible.” He was one of the persons who thought + Roderick delightfully fresh. + </p> + <p> + “I may make a David,” said Roderick, “but I shall not try any more of the + Old Testament people. I don’t like the Jews; I don’t like pendulous noses. + David, the boy David, is rather an exception; you can think of him and + treat him as a young Greek. Standing forth there on the plain of battle + between the contending armies, rushing forward to let fly his stone, he + looks like a beautiful runner at the Olympic games. After that I shall + skip to the New Testament. I mean to make a Christ.” + </p> + <p> + “You ‘ll put nothing of the Olympic games into him, I hope,” said + Gloriani. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall make him very different from the Christ of tradition; more—more”—and + Roderick paused a moment to think. This was the first that Rowland had + heard of his Christ. + </p> + <p> + “More rationalistic, I suppose,” suggested Miss Blanchard. + </p> + <p> + “More idealistic!” cried Roderick. “The perfection of form, you know, to + symbolize the perfection of spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “For a companion piece,” said Miss Blanchard, “you ought to make a Judas.” + </p> + <p> + “Never! I mean never to make anything ugly. The Greeks never made anything + ugly, and I ‘m a Hellenist; I ‘m not a Hebraist! I have been thinking + lately of making a Cain, but I should never dream of making him ugly. He + should be a very handsome fellow, and he should lift up the murderous club + with the beautiful movement of the fighters in the Greek friezes who are + chopping at their enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “There ‘s no use trying to be a Greek,” said Gloriani. “If Phidias were to + come back, he would recommend you to give it up. I am half Italian and + half French, and, as a whole, a Yankee. What sort of a Greek should I + make? I think the Judas is a capital idea for a statue. Much obliged to + you, madame, for the suggestion. What an insidious little scoundrel one + might make of him, sitting there nursing his money-bag and his treachery! + There can be a great deal of expression in a pendulous nose, my dear sir, + especially when it is cast in green bronze.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” said Roderick. “But it is not the sort of expression I care + for. I care only for perfect beauty. There it is, if you want to know it! + That ‘s as good a profession of faith as another. In future, so far as my + things are not positively beautiful, you may set them down as failures. + For me, it ‘s either that or nothing. It ‘s against the taste of the day, + I know; we have really lost the faculty to understand beauty in the large, + ideal way. We stand like a race with shrunken muscles, staring helplessly + at the weights our forefathers easily lifted. But I don’t hesitate to + proclaim it—I mean to lift them again! I mean to go in for big + things; that ‘s my notion of my art. I mean to do things that will be + simple and vast and infinite. You ‘ll see if they won’t be infinite! + Excuse me if I brag a little; all those Italian fellows in the Renaissance + used to brag. There was a sensation once common, I am sure, in the human + breast—a kind of religious awe in the presence of a marble image + newly created and expressing the human type in superhuman purity. When + Phidias and Praxiteles had their statues of goddesses unveiled in the + temples of the AEgean, don’t you suppose there was a passionate beating of + hearts, a thrill of mysterious terror? I mean to bring it back; I mean to + thrill the world again! I mean to produce a Juno that will make you + tremble, a Venus that will make you swoon!” + </p> + <p> + “So that when we come and see you,” said Madame Grandoni, “we must be sure + and bring our smelling-bottles. And pray have a few soft sofas + conveniently placed.” + </p> + <p> + “Phidias and Praxiteles,” Miss Blanchard remarked, “had the advantage of + believing in their goddesses. I insist on believing, for myself, that the + pagan mythology is not a fiction, and that Venus and Juno and Apollo and + Mercury used to come down in a cloud into this very city of Rome where we + sit talking nineteenth century English.” + </p> + <p> + “Nineteenth century nonsense, my dear!” cried Madame Grandoni. “Mr. Hudson + may be a new Phidias, but Venus and Juno—that ‘s you and I—arrived + to-day in a very dirty cab; and were cheated by the driver, too.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear fellow,” objected Gloriani, “you don’t mean to say you are + going to make over in cold blood those poor old exploded Apollos and + Hebes.” + </p> + <p> + “It won’t matter what you call them,” said Roderick. “They shall be simply + divine forms. They shall be Beauty; they shall be Wisdom; they shall be + Power; they shall be Genius; they shall be Daring. That ‘s all the Greek + divinities were.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s rather abstract, you know,” said Miss Blanchard. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” cried Gloriani, “you ‘re delightfully young.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you ‘ll not grow any older,” said Singleton, with a flush of + sympathy across his large white forehead. “You can do it if you try.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there are all the Forces and Mysteries and Elements of Nature,” + Roderick went on. “I mean to do the Morning; I mean to do the Night! I + mean to do the Ocean and the Mountains; the Moon and the West Wind. I mean + to make a magnificent statue of America!” + </p> + <p> + “America—the Mountains—the Moon!” said Gloriani. “You ‘ll find + it rather hard, I ‘m afraid, to compress such subjects into classic + forms.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there ‘s a way,” cried Roderick, “and I shall think it out. My + figures shall make no contortions, but they shall mean a tremendous deal.” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m sure there are contortions enough in Michael Angelo,” said Madame + Grandoni. “Perhaps you don’t approve of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Michael Angelo was not me!” said Roderick, with sublimity. There was + a great laugh; but after all, Roderick had done some fine things. + </p> + <p> + Rowland had bidden one of the servants bring him a small portfolio of + prints, and had taken out a photograph of Roderick’s little statue of the + youth drinking. It pleased him to see his friend sitting there in radiant + ardor, defending idealism against so knowing an apostle of corruption as + Gloriani, and he wished to help the elder artist to be confuted. He + silently handed him the photograph. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me!” cried Gloriani, “did he do this?” + </p> + <p> + “Ages ago,” said Roderick. + </p> + <p> + Gloriani looked at the photograph a long time, with evident admiration. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s deucedly pretty,” he said at last. “But, my dear young friend, you + can’t keep this up.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall do better,” said Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “You will do worse! You will become weak. You will have to take to + violence, to contortions, to romanticism, in self-defense. This sort of + thing is like a man trying to lift himself up by the seat of his trousers. + He may stand on tiptoe, but he can’t do more. Here you stand on tiptoe, + very gracefully, I admit; but you can’t fly; there ‘s no use trying.” + </p> + <p> + “My ‘America’ shall answer you!” said Roderick, shaking toward him a tall + glass of champagne and drinking it down. + </p> + <p> + Singleton had taken the photograph and was poring over it with a little + murmur of delight. + </p> + <p> + “Was this done in America?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “In a square white wooden house at Northampton, Massachusetts,” Roderick + answered. + </p> + <p> + “Dear old white wooden houses!” said Miss Blanchard. + </p> + <p> + “If you could do as well as this there,” said Singleton, blushing and + smiling, “one might say that really you had only to lose by coming to + Rome.” + </p> + <p> + “Mallet is to blame for that,” said Roderick. “But I am willing to risk + the loss.” + </p> + <p> + The photograph had been passed to Madame Grandoni. “It reminds me,” she + said, “of the things a young man used to do whom I knew years ago, when I + first came to Rome. He was a German, a pupil of Overbeck and a votary of + spiritual art. He used to wear a black velvet tunic and a very low shirt + collar; he had a neck like a sickly crane, and let his hair grow down to + his shoulders. His name was Herr Schafgans. He never painted anything so + profane as a man taking a drink, but his figures were all of the simple + and slender and angular pattern, and nothing if not innocent—like + this one of yours. He would not have agreed with Gloriani any more than + you. He used to come and see me very often, and in those days I thought + his tunic and his long neck infallible symptoms of genius. His talk was + all of gilded aureoles and beatific visions; he lived on weak wine and + biscuits, and wore a lock of Saint Somebody’s hair in a little bag round + his neck. If he was not a Beato Angelico, it was not his own fault. I hope + with all my heart that Mr. Hudson will do the fine things he talks about, + but he must bear in mind the history of dear Mr. Schafgans as a warning + against high-flown pretensions. One fine day this poor young man fell in + love with a Roman model, though she had never sat to him, I believe, for + she was a buxom, bold-faced, high-colored creature, and he painted none + but pale, sickly women. He offered to marry her, and she looked at him + from head to foot, gave a shrug, and consented. But he was ashamed to set + up his menage in Rome. They went to Naples, and there, a couple of years + afterwards, I saw him. The poor fellow was ruined. His wife used to beat + him, and he had taken to drinking. He wore a ragged black coat, and he had + a blotchy, red face. Madame had turned washerwoman and used to make him go + and fetch the dirty linen. His talent had gone heaven knows where! He was + getting his living by painting views of Vesuvius in eruption on the little + boxes they sell at Sorrento.” + </p> + <p> + “Moral: don’t fall in love with a buxom Roman model,” said Roderick. “I ‘m + much obliged to you for your story, but I don’t mean to fall in love with + any one.” + </p> + <p> + Gloriani had possessed himself of the photograph again, and was looking at + it curiously. “It ‘s a happy bit of youth,” he said. “But you can’t keep + it up—you can’t keep it up!” + </p> + <p> + The two sculptors pursued their discussion after dinner, in the + drawing-room. Rowland left them to have it out in a corner, where + Roderick’s Eve stood over them in the shaded lamplight, in vague white + beauty, like the guardian angel of the young idealist. Singleton was + listening to Madame Grandoni, and Rowland took his place on the sofa, near + Miss Blanchard. They had a good deal of familiar, desultory talk. Every + now and then Madame Grandoni looked round at them. Miss Blanchard at last + asked Rowland certain questions about Roderick: who he was, where he came + from, whether it was true, as she had heard, that Rowland had discovered + him and brought him out at his own expense. Rowland answered her + questions; to the last he gave a vague affirmative. Finally, after a + pause, looking at him, “You ‘re very generous,” Miss Blanchard said. The + declaration was made with a certain richness of tone, but it brought to + Rowland’s sense neither delight nor confusion. He had heard the words + before; he suddenly remembered the grave sincerity with which Miss Garland + had uttered them as he strolled with her in the woods the day of + Roderick’s picnic. They had pleased him then; now he asked Miss Blanchard + whether she would have some tea. + </p> + <p> + When the two ladies withdrew, he attended them to their carriage. Coming + back to the drawing-room, he paused outside the open door; he was struck + by the group formed by the three men. They were standing before Roderick’s + statue of Eve, and the young sculptor had lifted up the lamp and was + showing different parts of it to his companions. He was talking ardently, + and the lamplight covered his head and face. Rowland stood looking on, for + the group struck him with its picturesque symbolism. Roderick, bearing the + lamp and glowing in its radiant circle, seemed the beautiful image of a + genius which combined sincerity with power. Gloriani, with his head on one + side, pulling his long moustache and looking keenly from half-closed eyes + at the lighted marble, represented art with a worldly motive, skill + unleavened by faith, the mere base maximum of cleverness. Poor little + Singleton, on the other side, with his hands behind him, his head thrown + back, and his eyes following devoutly the course of Roderick’s + elucidation, might pass for an embodiment of aspiring candor, with feeble + wings to rise on. In all this, Roderick’s was certainly the beau role. + </p> + <p> + Gloriani turned to Rowland as he came up, and pointed back with his thumb + to the statue, with a smile half sardonic, half good-natured. “A pretty + thing—a devilish pretty thing,” he said. “It ‘s as fresh as the foam + in the milk-pail. He can do it once, he can do it twice, he can do it at a + stretch half a dozen times. But—but—” + </p> + <p> + He was returning to his former refrain, but Rowland intercepted him. “Oh, + he will keep it up,” he said, smiling, “I will answer for him.” + </p> + <p> + Gloriani was not encouraging, but Roderick had listened smiling. He was + floating unperturbed on the tide of his deep self-confidence. Now, + suddenly, however, he turned with a flash of irritation in his eye, and + demanded in a ringing voice, “In a word, then, you prophesy that I am to + fail?” + </p> + <p> + Gloriani answered imperturbably, patting him kindly on the shoulder. “My + dear fellow, passion burns out, inspiration runs to seed. Some fine day + every artist finds himself sitting face to face with his lump of clay, + with his empty canvas, with his sheet of blank paper, waiting in vain for + the revelation to be made, for the Muse to descend. He must learn to do + without the Muse! When the fickle jade forgets the way to your studio, + don’t waste any time in tearing your hair and meditating on suicide. Come + round and see me, and I will show you how to console yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “If I break down,” said Roderick, passionately, “I shall stay down. If the + Muse deserts me, she shall at least have her infidelity on her + conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no business,” Rowland said to Gloriani, “to talk lightly of the + Muse in this company. Mr. Singleton, too, has received pledges from her + which place her constancy beyond suspicion.” And he pointed out on the + wall, near by, two small landscapes by the modest water-colorist. + </p> + <p> + The sculptor examined them with deference, and Singleton himself began to + laugh nervously; he was trembling with hope that the great Gloriani would + be pleased. “Yes, these are fresh too,” Gloriani said; “extraordinarily + fresh! How old are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-six, sir,” said Singleton. + </p> + <p> + “For twenty-six they are famously fresh. They must have taken you a long + time; you work slowly.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, unfortunately, I work very slowly. One of them took me six weeks, + the other two months.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word! The Muse pays you long visits.” And Gloriani turned and + looked, from head to foot, at so unlikely an object of her favors. + Singleton smiled and began to wipe his forehead very hard. “Oh, you!” said + the sculptor; “you ‘ll keep it up!” + </p> + <p> + A week after his dinner-party, Rowland went into Roderick’s studio and + found him sitting before an unfinished piece of work, with a hanging head + and a heavy eye. He could have fancied that the fatal hour foretold by + Gloriani had struck. Roderick rose with a sombre yawn and flung down his + tools. “It ‘s no use,” he said, “I give it up!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have struck a shallow! I have been sailing bravely, but for the last + day or two my keel has been crunching the bottom.” + </p> + <p> + “A difficult place?” Rowland asked, with a sympathetic inflection, looking + vaguely at the roughly modeled figure. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it ‘s not the poor clay!” Roderick answered. “The difficult place is + here!” And he struck a blow on his heart. “I don’t know what ‘s the matter + with me. Nothing comes; all of a sudden I hate things. My old things look + ugly; everything looks stupid.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland was perplexed. He was in the situation of a man who has been + riding a blood horse at an even, elastic gallop, and of a sudden feels him + stumble and balk. As yet, he reflected, he had seen nothing but the + sunshine of genius; he had forgotten that it has its storms. Of course it + had! And he felt a flood of comradeship rise in his heart which would + float them both safely through the worst weather. “Why, you ‘re tired!” he + said. “Of course you ‘re tired. You have a right to be!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I have a right to be?” Roderick asked, looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably, after all you have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, right or wrong, I am tired. I certainly have done a fair + winter’s work. I want a change.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland declared that it was certainly high time they should be leaving + Rome. They would go north and travel. They would go to Switzerland, to + Germany, to Holland, to England. Roderick assented, his eye brightened, + and Rowland talked of a dozen things they might do. Roderick walked up and + down; he seemed to have something to say which he hesitated to bring out. + He hesitated so rarely that Rowland wondered, and at last asked him what + was on his mind. Roderick stopped before him, frowning a little. + </p> + <p> + “I have such unbounded faith in your good-will,” he said, “that I believe + nothing I can say would offend you.” + </p> + <p> + “Try it,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I think my journey will do me more good if I take it alone. I + need n’t say I prefer your society to that of any man living. For the last + six months it has been everything to me. But I have a perpetual feeling + that you are expecting something of me, that you are measuring my doings + by a terrifically high standard. You are watching me; I don’t want to be + watched. I want to go my own way; to work when I choose and to loaf when I + choose. It is not that I don’t know what I owe you; it is not that we are + not friends. It is simply that I want a taste of absolutely unrestricted + freedom. Therefore, I say, let us separate.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland shook him by the hand. “Willingly. Do as you desire, I shall miss + you, and I venture to believe you ‘ll pass some lonely hours. But I have + only one request to make: that if you get into trouble of any kind + whatever, you will immediately let me know.” + </p> + <p> + They began their journey, however, together, and crossed the Alps side by + side, muffled in one rug, on the top of the St. Gothard coach. Rowland was + going to England to pay some promised visits; his companion had no plan + save to ramble through Switzerland and Germany as fancy guided him. He had + money, now, that would outlast the summer; when it was spent he would come + back to Rome and make another statue. At a little mountain village by the + way, Roderick declared that he would stop; he would scramble about a + little in the high places and doze in the shade of the pine forests. The + coach was changing horses; the two young men walked along the village + street, picking their way between dunghills, breathing the light, cool + air, and listening to the plash of the fountain and the tinkle of + cattle-bells. The coach overtook them, and then Rowland, as he prepared to + mount, felt an almost overmastering reluctance. + </p> + <p> + “Say the word,” he exclaimed, “and I will stop too.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick frowned. “Ah, you don’t trust me; you don’t think I ‘m able to + take care of myself. That proves that I was right in feeling as if I were + watched!” + </p> + <p> + “Watched, my dear fellow!” said Rowland. “I hope you may never have + anything worse to complain of than being watched in the spirit in which I + watch you. But I will spare you even that. Good-by!” Standing in his + place, as the coach rolled away, he looked back at his friend lingering by + the roadside. A great snow-mountain, behind Roderick, was beginning to + turn pink in the sunset. The young man waved his hat, still looking grave. + Rowland settled himself in his place, reflecting after all that this was a + salubrious beginning of independence. He was among forests and glaciers, + leaning on the pure bosom of nature. And then—and then—was it + not in itself a guarantee against folly to be engaged to Mary Garland? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. Experience + </h2> + <p> + Rowland passed the summer in England, staying with several old friends and + two or three new ones. On his arrival, he felt it on his conscience to + write to Mrs. Hudson and inform her that her son had relieved him of his + tutelage. He felt that she considered him an incorruptible Mentor, + following Roderick like a shadow, and he wished to let her know the truth. + But he made the truth very comfortable, and gave a succinct statement of + the young man’s brilliant beginnings. He owed it to himself, he said, to + remind her that he had not judged lightly, and that Roderick’s present + achievements were more profitable than his inglorious drudgery at Messrs. + Striker & Spooner’s. He was now taking a well-earned holiday and + proposing to see a little of the world. He would work none the worse for + this; every artist needed to knock about and look at things for himself. + They had parted company for a couple of months, for Roderick was now a + great man and beyond the need of going about with a keeper. But they were + to meet again in Rome in the autumn, and then he should be able to send + her more good news. Meanwhile, he was very happy in what Roderick had + already done—especially happy in the happiness it must have brought + to her. He ventured to ask to be kindly commended to Miss Garland. + </p> + <p> + His letter was promptly answered—to his surprise in Miss Garland’s + own hand. The same mail brought also an epistle from Cecilia. The latter + was voluminous, and we must content ourselves with giving an extract. + </p> + <p> + “Your letter was filled with an echo of that brilliant Roman world, which + made me almost ill with envy. For a week after I got it I thought + Northampton really unpardonably tame. But I am drifting back again to my + old deeps of resignation, and I rush to the window, when any one passes, + with all my old gratitude for small favors. So Roderick Hudson is already + a great man, and you turn out to be a great prophet? My compliments to + both of you; I never heard of anything working so smoothly. And he takes + it all very quietly, and does n’t lose his balance nor let it turn his + head? You judged him, then, in a day better than I had done in six months, + for I really did not expect that he would settle down into such a jog-trot + of prosperity. I believed he would do fine things, but I was sure he would + intersperse them with a good many follies, and that his beautiful statues + would spring up out of the midst of a straggling plantation of wild oats. + But from what you tell me, Mr. Striker may now go hang himself..... There + is one thing, however, to say as a friend, in the way of warning. That + candid soul can keep a secret, and he may have private designs on your + equanimity which you don’t begin to suspect. What do you think of his + being engaged to Miss Garland? The two ladies had given no hint of it all + winter, but a fortnight ago, when those big photographs of his statues + arrived, they first pinned them up on the wall, and then trotted out into + the town, made a dozen calls, and announced the news. Mrs. Hudson did, at + least; Miss Garland, I suppose, sat at home writing letters. To me, I + confess, the thing was a perfect surprise. I had not a suspicion that all + the while he was coming so regularly to make himself agreeable on my + veranda, he was quietly preferring his cousin to any one else. Not, + indeed, that he was ever at particular pains to make himself agreeable! I + suppose he has picked up a few graces in Rome. But he must not acquire too + many: if he is too polite when he comes back, Miss Garland will count him + as one of the lost. She will be a very good wife for a man of genius, and + such a one as they are often shrewd enough to take. She ‘ll darn his + stockings and keep his accounts, and sit at home and trim the lamp and + keep up the fire while he studies the Beautiful in pretty neighbors at + dinner-parties. The two ladies are evidently very happy, and, to do them + justice, very humbly grateful to you. Mrs. Hudson never speaks of you + without tears in her eyes, and I am sure she considers you a specially + patented agent of Providence. Verily, it ‘s a good thing for a woman to be + in love: Miss Garland has grown almost pretty. I met her the other night + at a tea-party; she had a white rose in her hair, and sang a sentimental + ballad in a fine contralto voice.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Garland’s letter was so much shorter that we may give it entire:— + </p> + <p> + My dear Sir,—Mrs. Hudson, as I suppose you know, has been for some + time unable to use her eyes. She requests me, therefore, to answer your + favor of the 22d of June. She thanks you extremely for writing, and wishes + me to say that she considers herself in every way under great obligations + to you. Your account of her son’s progress and the high estimation in + which he is held has made her very happy, and she earnestly prays that all + may continue well with him. He sent us, a short time ago, several large + photographs of his two statues, taken from different points of view. We + know little about such things, but they seem to us wonderfully beautiful. + We sent them to Boston to be handsomely framed, and the man, on returning + them, wrote us that he had exhibited them for a week in his store, and + that they had attracted great attention. The frames are magnificent, and + the pictures now hang in a row on the parlor wall. Our only quarrel with + them is that they make the old papering and the engravings look dreadfully + shabby. Mr. Striker stood and looked at them the other day full five + minutes, and said, at last, that if Roderick’s head was running on such + things it was no wonder he could not learn to draw up a deed. We lead here + so quiet and monotonous a life that I am afraid I can tell you nothing + that will interest you. Mrs. Hudson requests me to say that the little + more or less that may happen to us is of small account, as we live in our + thoughts and our thoughts are fixed on her dear son. She thanks Heaven he + has so good a friend. Mrs. Hudson says that this is too short a letter, + but I can say nothing more. + </p> + <p> + Yours most respectfully, + </p> + <p> + Mary Garland. + </p> + <p> + It is a question whether the reader will know why, but this letter gave + Rowland extraordinary pleasure. He liked its very brevity and meagreness, + and there seemed to him an exquisite modesty in its saying nothing from + the young girl herself. He delighted in the formal address and conclusion; + they pleased him as he had been pleased by an angular gesture in some + expressive girlish figure in an early painting. The letter renewed that + impression of strong feeling combined with an almost rigid simplicity, + which Roderick’s betrothed had personally given him. And its homely + stiffness seemed a vivid reflection of a life concentrated, as the young + girl had borrowed warrant from her companion to say, in a single devoted + idea. The monotonous days of the two women seemed to Rowland’s fancy to + follow each other like the tick-tick of a great time-piece, marking off + the hours which separated them from the supreme felicity of clasping the + far-away son and lover to lips sealed with the excess of joy. He hoped + that Roderick, now that he had shaken off the oppression of his own + importunate faith, was not losing a tolerant temper for the silent prayers + of the two women at Northampton. + </p> + <p> + He was left to vain conjectures, however, as to Roderick’s actual moods + and occupations. He knew he was no letter-writer, and that, in the young + sculptor’s own phrase, he had at any time rather build a monument than + write a note. But when a month had passed without news of him, he began to + be half anxious and half angry, and wrote him three lines, in the care of + a Continental banker, begging him at least to give some sign of whether he + was alive or dead. A week afterwards came an answer—brief, and dated + Baden-Baden. “I know I have been a great brute,” Roderick wrote, “not to + have sent you a word before; but really I don’t know what has got into me. + I have lately learned terribly well how to be idle. I am afraid to think + how long it is since I wrote to my mother or to Mary. Heaven help them—poor, + patient, trustful creatures! I don’t know how to tell you what I am doing. + It seems all amusing enough while I do it, but it would make a poor show + in a narrative intended for your formidable eyes. I found Baxter in + Switzerland, or rather he found me, and he grabbed me by the arm and + brought me here. I was walking twenty miles a day in the Alps, drinking + milk in lonely chalets, sleeping as you sleep, and thinking it was all + very good fun; but Baxter told me it would never do, that the Alps were ‘d——d + rot,’ that Baden-Baden was the place, and that if I knew what was good for + me I would come along with him. It is a wonderful place, certainly, + though, thank the Lord, Baxter departed last week, blaspheming horribly at + trente et quarante. But you know all about it and what one does—what + one is liable to do. I have succumbed, in a measure, to the liabilities, + and I wish I had some one here to give me a thundering good blowing up. + Not you, dear friend; you would draw it too mild; you have too much of the + milk of human kindness. I have fits of horrible homesickness for my + studio, and I shall be devoutly grateful when the summer is over and I can + go back and swing a chisel. I feel as if nothing but the chisel would + satisfy me; as if I could rush in a rage at a block of unshaped marble. + There are a lot of the Roman people here, English and American; I live in + the midst of them and talk nonsense from morning till night. There is also + some one else; and to her I don’t talk sense, nor, thank heaven, mean what + I say. I confess, I need a month’s work to recover my self-respect.” + </p> + <p> + These lines brought Rowland no small perturbation; the more, that what + they seemed to point to surprised him. During the nine months of their + companionship Roderick had shown so little taste for dissipation that + Rowland had come to think of it as a canceled danger, and it greatly + perplexed him to learn that his friend had apparently proved so pliant to + opportunity. But Roderick’s allusions were ambiguous, and it was possible + they might simply mean that he was out of patience with a frivolous way of + life and fretting wholesomely over his absent work. It was a very good + thing, certainly, that idleness should prove, on experiment, to sit + heavily on his conscience. Nevertheless, the letter needed, to Rowland’s + mind, a key: the key arrived a week later. “In common charity,” Roderick + wrote, “lend me a hundred pounds! I have gambled away my last franc—I + have made a mountain of debts. Send me the money first; lecture me + afterwards!” Rowland sent the money by return of mail; then he proceeded, + not to lecture, but to think. He hung his head; he was acutely + disappointed. He had no right to be, he assured himself; but so it was. + Roderick was young, impulsive, unpracticed in stoicism; it was a hundred + to one that he was to pay the usual vulgar tribute to folly. But his + friend had regarded it as securely gained to his own belief in virtue that + he was not as other foolish youths are, and that he would have been + capable of looking at folly in the face and passing on his way. Rowland + for a while felt a sore sense of wrath. What right had a man who was + engaged to that fine girl in Northampton to behave as if his consciousness + were a common blank, to be overlaid with coarse sensations? Yes, + distinctly, he was disappointed. He had accompanied his missive with an + urgent recommendation to leave Baden-Baden immediately, and an offer to + meet Roderick at any point he would name. The answer came promptly; it ran + as follows: “Send me another fifty pounds! I have been back to the tables. + I will leave as soon as the money comes, and meet you at Geneva. There I + will tell you everything.” + </p> + <p> + There is an ancient terrace at Geneva, planted with trees and studded with + benches, overlooked by gravely aristocratic old dwellings and overlooking + the distant Alps. A great many generations have made it a lounging-place, + a great many friends and lovers strolled there, a great many confidential + talks and momentous interviews gone forward. Here, one morning, sitting on + one of the battered green benches, Roderick, as he had promised, told his + friend everything. He had arrived late the night before; he looked tired, + and yet flushed and excited. He made no professions of penitence, but he + practiced an unmitigated frankness, and his self-reprobation might be + taken for granted. He implied in every phrase that he had done with it + all, and that he was counting the hours till he could get back to work. We + shall not rehearse his confession in detail; its main outline will be + sufficient. He had fallen in with some very idle people, and had + discovered that a little example and a little practice were capable of + producing on his own part a considerable relish for their diversions. What + could he do? He never read, and he had no studio; in one way or another he + had to pass the time. He passed it in dangling about several very pretty + women in wonderful Paris toilets, and reflected that it was always + something gained for a sculptor to sit under a tree, looking at his + leisure into a charming face and saying things that made it smile and play + its muscles and part its lips and show its teeth. Attached to these ladies + were certain gentlemen who walked about in clouds of perfume, rose at + midday, and supped at midnight. Roderick had found himself in the mood for + thinking them very amusing fellows. He was surprised at his own taste, but + he let it take its course. It led him to the discovery that to live with + ladies who expect you to present them with expensive bouquets, to ride + with them in the Black Forest on well-looking horses, to come into their + opera-boxes on nights when Patti sang and prices were consequent, to + propose little light suppers at the Conversation House after the opera or + drives by moonlight to the Castle, to be always arrayed and anointed, + trinketed and gloved,—that to move in such society, we say, though + it might be a privilege, was a privilege with a penalty attached. But the + tables made such things easy; half the Baden world lived by the tables. + Roderick tried them and found that at first they smoothed his path + delightfully. This simplification of matters, however, was only momentary, + for he soon perceived that to seem to have money, and to have it in fact, + exposed a good-looking young man to peculiar liabilities. At this point of + his friend’s narrative, Rowland was reminded of Madame de Cruchecassee in + The Newcomes, and though he had listened in tranquil silence to the rest + of it, he found it hard not to say that all this had been, under the + circumstances, a very bad business. Roderick admitted it with bitterness, + and then told how much—measured simply financially—it had cost + him. His luck had changed; the tables had ceased to back him, and he had + found himself up to his knees in debt. Every penny had gone of the solid + sum which had seemed a large equivalent of those shining statues in Rome. + He had been an ass, but it was not irreparable; he could make another + statue in a couple of months. + </p> + <p> + Rowland frowned. “For heaven’s sake,” he said, “don’t play such dangerous + games with your facility. If you have got facility, revere it, respect it, + adore it, treasure it—don’t speculate on it.” And he wondered what + his companion, up to his knees in debt, would have done if there had been + no good-natured Rowland Mallet to lend a helping hand. But he did not + formulate his curiosity audibly, and the contingency seemed not to have + presented itself to Roderick’s imagination. The young sculptor reverted to + his late adventures again in the evening, and this time talked of them + more objectively, as the phrase is; more as if they had been the + adventures of another person. He related half a dozen droll things that + had happened to him, and, as if his responsibility had been disengaged by + all this free discussion, he laughed extravagantly at the memory of them. + Rowland sat perfectly grave, on principle. Then Roderick began to talk of + half a dozen statues that he had in his head, and set forth his design, + with his usual vividness. Suddenly, as it was relevant, he declared that + his Baden doings had not been altogether fruitless, for that the lady who + had reminded Rowland of Madame de Cruchecassee was tremendously + statuesque. Rowland at last said that it all might pass if he felt that he + was really the wiser for it. “By the wiser,” he added, “I mean the + stronger in purpose, in will.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t talk about will!” Roderick answered, throwing back his head and + looking at the stars. This conversation also took place in the open air, + on the little island in the shooting Rhone where Jean-Jacques has a + monument. “The will, I believe, is the mystery of mysteries. Who can + answer for his will? who can say beforehand that it ‘s strong? There are + all kinds of indefinable currents moving to and fro between one’s will and + one’s inclinations. People talk as if the two things were essentially + distinct; on different sides of one’s organism, like the heart and the + liver. Mine, I know, are much nearer together. It all depends upon + circumstances. I believe there is a certain group of circumstances + possible for every man, in which his will is destined to snap like a dry + twig.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy,” said Rowland, “don’t talk about the will being ‘destined.’ + The will is destiny itself. That ‘s the way to look at it.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at it, my dear Rowland,” Roderick answered, “as you find most + comfortable. One conviction I have gathered from my summer’s experience,” + he went on—“it ‘s as well to look it frankly in the face—is + that I possess an almost unlimited susceptibility to the influence of a + beautiful woman.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland stared, then strolled away, softly whistling to himself. He was + unwilling to admit even to himself that this speech had really the + sinister meaning it seemed to have. In a few days the two young men made + their way back to Italy, and lingered a while in Florence before going on + to Rome. In Florence Roderick seemed to have won back his old innocence + and his preference for the pleasures of study over any others. Rowland + began to think of the Baden episode as a bad dream, or at the worst as a + mere sporadic piece of disorder, without roots in his companion’s + character. They passed a fortnight looking at pictures and exploring for + out the way bits of fresco and carving, and Roderick recovered all his + earlier fervor of appreciation and comment. In Rome he went eagerly to + work again, and finished in a month two or three small things he had left + standing on his departure. He talked the most joyous nonsense about + finding himself back in his old quarters. On the first Sunday afternoon + following their return, on their going together to Saint Peter’s, he + delivered himself of a lyrical greeting to the great church and to the + city in general, in a tone of voice so irrepressibly elevated that it rang + through the nave in rather a scandalous fashion, and almost arrested a + procession of canons who were marching across to the choir. He began to + model a new statue—a female figure, of which he had said nothing to + Rowland. It represented a woman, leaning lazily back in her chair, with + her head drooping as if she were listening, a vague smile on her lips, and + a pair of remarkably beautiful arms folded in her lap. With rather less + softness of contour, it would have resembled the noble statue of Agrippina + in the Capitol. Rowland looked at it and was not sure he liked it. “Who is + it? what does it mean?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Anything you please!” said Roderick, with a certain petulance. “I call it + A Reminiscence.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland then remembered that one of the Baden ladies had been + “statuesque,” and asked no more questions. This, after all, was a way of + profiting by experience. A few days later he took his first ride of the + season on the Campagna, and as, on his homeward way, he was passing across + the long shadow of a ruined tower, he perceived a small figure at a short + distance, bent over a sketch-book. As he drew near, he recognized his + friend Singleton. The honest little painter’s face was scorched to + flame-color by the light of southern suns, and borrowed an even deeper + crimson from his gleeful greeting of his most appreciative patron. He was + making a careful and charming little sketch. On Rowland’s asking him how + he had spent his summer, he gave an account of his wanderings which made + poor Mallet sigh with a sense of more contrasts than one. He had not been + out of Italy, but he had been delving deep into the picturesque heart of + the lovely land, and gathering a wonderful store of subjects. He had + rambled about among the unvisited villages of the Apennines, pencil in + hand and knapsack on back, sleeping on straw and eating black bread and + beans, but feasting on local color, rioting, as it were, on chiaroscuro, + and laying up a treasure of pictorial observations. He took a devout + satisfaction in his hard-earned wisdom and his happy frugality. Rowland + went the next day, by appointment, to look at his sketches, and spent a + whole morning turning them over. Singleton talked more than he had ever + done before, explained them all, and told some quaintly humorous anecdote + about the production of each. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me, how I have chattered!” he said at last. “I am afraid you had + rather have looked at the things in peace and quiet. I did n’t know I + could talk so much. But somehow, I feel very happy; I feel as if I had + improved.” + </p> + <p> + “That you have,” said Rowland. “I doubt whether an artist ever passed a + more profitable three months. You must feel much more sure of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Singleton looked for a long time with great intentness at a knot in the + floor. “Yes,” he said at last, in a fluttered tone, “I feel much more sure + of myself. I have got more facility!” And he lowered his voice as if he + were communicating a secret which it took some courage to impart. “I + hardly like to say it, for fear I should after all be mistaken. But since + it strikes you, perhaps it ‘s true. It ‘s a great happiness; I would not + exchange it for a great deal of money.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose it ‘s a great happiness,” said Rowland. “I shall really + think of you as living here in a state of scandalous bliss. I don’t + believe it ‘s good for an artist to be in such brutally high spirits.” + </p> + <p> + Singleton stared for a moment, as if he thought Rowland was in earnest; + then suddenly fathoming the kindly jest, he walked about the room, + scratching his head and laughing intensely to himself. “And Mr. Hudson?” + he said, as Rowland was going; “I hope he is well and happy.” + </p> + <p> + “He is very well,” said Rowland. “He is back at work again.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, there ‘s a man,” cried Singleton, “who has taken his start once for + all, and does n’t need to stop and ask himself in fear and trembling every + month or two whether he is advancing or not. When he stops, it ‘s to rest! + And where did he spend his summer?” + </p> + <p> + “The greater part of it at Baden-Baden.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that ‘s in the Black Forest,” cried Singleton, with profound + simplicity. “They say you can make capital studies of trees there.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt,” said Rowland, with a smile, laying an almost paternal hand on + the little painter’s yellow head. “Unfortunately trees are not Roderick’s + line. Nevertheless, he tells me that at Baden he made some studies. Come + when you can, by the way,” he added after a moment, “to his studio, and + tell me what you think of something he has lately begun.” Singleton + declared that he would come delightedly, and Rowland left him to his work. + </p> + <p> + He met a number of his last winter’s friends again, and called upon Madame + Grandoni, upon Miss Blanchard, and upon Gloriani, shortly after their + return. The ladies gave an excellent account of themselves. Madame + Grandoni had been taking sea-baths at Rimini, and Miss Blanchard painting + wild flowers in the Tyrol. Her complexion was somewhat browned, which was + very becoming, and her flowers were uncommonly pretty. Gloriani had been + in Paris and had come away in high good-humor, finding no one there, in + the artist-world, cleverer than himself. He came in a few days to + Roderick’s studio, one afternoon when Rowland was present. He examined the + new statue with great deference, said it was very promising, and + abstained, considerately, from irritating prophecies. But Rowland fancied + he observed certain signs of inward jubilation on the clever sculptor’s + part, and walked away with him to learn his private opinion. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; I liked it as well as I said,” Gloriani declared in answer to + Rowland’s anxious query; “or rather I liked it a great deal better. I did + n’t say how much, for fear of making your friend angry. But one can leave + him alone now, for he ‘s coming round. I told you he could n’t keep up the + transcendental style, and he has already broken down. Don’t you see it + yourself, man?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t particularly like this new statue,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s because you ‘re a purist. It ‘s deuced clever, it ‘s deuced + knowing, it ‘s deuced pretty, but it is n’t the topping high art of three + months ago. He has taken his turn sooner than I supposed. What has + happened to him? Has he been disappointed in love? But that ‘s none of my + business. I congratulate him on having become a practical man.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick, however, was less to be congratulated than Gloriani had taken it + into his head to believe. He was discontented with his work, he applied + himself to it by fits and starts, he declared that he did n’t know what + was coming over him; he was turning into a man of moods. “Is this of + necessity what a fellow must come to”—he asked of Rowland, with a + sort of peremptory flash in his eye, which seemed to imply that his + companion had undertaken to insure him against perplexities and was not + fulfilling his contract—“this damnable uncertainty when he goes to + bed at night as to whether he is going to wake up in a working humor or in + a swearing humor? Have we only a season, over before we know it, in which + we can call our faculties our own? Six months ago I could stand up to my + work like a man, day after day, and never dream of asking myself whether I + felt like it. But now, some mornings, it ‘s the very devil to get going. + My statue looks so bad when I come into the studio that I have twenty + minds to smash it on the spot, and I lose three or four hours in sitting + there, moping and getting used to it.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland said that he supposed that this sort of thing was the lot of every + artist and that the only remedy was plenty of courage and faith. And he + reminded him of Gloriani’s having forewarned him against these sterile + moods the year before. + </p> + <p> + “Gloriani ‘s an ass!” said Roderick, almost fiercely. He hired a horse and + began to ride with Rowland on the Campagna. This delicious amusement + restored him in a measure to cheerfulness, but seemed to Rowland on the + whole not to stimulate his industry. Their rides were always very long, + and Roderick insisted on making them longer by dismounting in picturesque + spots and stretching himself in the sun among a heap of overtangled + stones. He let the scorching Roman luminary beat down upon him with an + equanimity which Rowland found it hard to emulate. But in this situation + Roderick talked so much amusing nonsense that, for the sake of his + company, Rowland consented to be uncomfortable, and often forgot that, + though in these diversions the days passed quickly, they brought forth + neither high art nor low. And yet it was perhaps by their help, after all, + that Roderick secured several mornings of ardent work on his new figure, + and brought it to rapid completion. One afternoon, when it was finished, + Rowland went to look at it, and Roderick asked him for his opinion. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think yourself?” Rowland demanded, not from pusillanimity, + but from real uncertainty. + </p> + <p> + “I think it is curiously bad,” Roderick answered. “It was bad from the + first; it has fundamental vices. I have shuffled them in a measure out of + sight, but I have not corrected them. I can’t—I can’t—I + can’t!” he cried passionately. “They stare me in the face—they are + all I see!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland offered several criticisms of detail, and suggested certain + practicable changes. But Roderick differed with him on each of these + points; the thing had faults enough, but they were not those faults. + Rowland, unruffled, concluded by saying that whatever its faults might be, + he had an idea people in general would like it. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to heaven some person in particular would buy it, and take it off + my hands and out of my sight!” Roderick cried. “What am I to do now?” he + went on. “I have n’t an idea. I think of subjects, but they remain mere + lifeless names. They are mere words—they are not images. What am I + to do?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland was a trifle annoyed. “Be a man,” he was on the point of saying, + “and don’t, for heaven’s sake, talk in that confoundedly querulous voice.” + But before he had uttered the words, there rang through the studio a loud, + peremptory ring at the outer door. + </p> + <p> + Roderick broke into a laugh. “Talk of the devil,” he said, “and you see + his horns! If that ‘s not a customer, it ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + The door of the studio was promptly flung open, and a lady advanced to the + threshold—an imposing, voluminous person, who quite filled up the + doorway. Rowland immediately felt that he had seen her before, but he + recognized her only when she moved forward and disclosed an attendant in + the person of a little bright-eyed, elderly gentleman, with a bristling + white moustache. Then he remembered that just a year before he and his + companion had seen in the Ludovisi gardens a wonderfully beautiful girl, + strolling in the train of this conspicuous couple. He looked for her now, + and in a moment she appeared, following her companions with the same + nonchalant step as before, and leading her great snow-white poodle, + decorated with motley ribbons. The elder lady offered the two young men a + sufficiently gracious salute; the little old gentleman bowed and smiled + with extreme alertness. The young girl, without casting a glance either at + Roderick or at Rowland, looked about for a chair, and, on perceiving one, + sank into it listlessly, pulled her poodle towards her, and began to + rearrange his top-knot. Rowland saw that, even with her eyes dropped, her + beauty was still dazzling. + </p> + <p> + “I trust we are at liberty to enter,” said the elder lady, with majesty. + “We were told that Mr. Hudson had no fixed day, and that we might come at + any time. Let us not disturb you.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick, as one of the lesser lights of the Roman art-world, had not + hitherto been subject to incursions from inquisitive tourists, and, having + no regular reception day, was not versed in the usual formulas of welcome. + He said nothing, and Rowland, looking at him, saw that he was looking + amazedly at the young girl and was apparently unconscious of everything + else. “By Jove!” he cried precipitately, “it ‘s that goddess of the Villa + Ludovisi!” Rowland in some confusion, did the honors as he could, but the + little old gentleman begged him with the most obsequious of smiles to give + himself no trouble. “I have been in many a studio!” he said, with his + finger on his nose and a strong Italian accent. + </p> + <p> + “We are going about everywhere,” said his companion. “I am passionately + fond of art!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland smiled sympathetically, and let them turn to Roderick’s statue. He + glanced again at the young sculptor, to invite him to bestir himself, but + Roderick was still gazing wide-eyed at the beautiful young mistress of the + poodle, who by this time had looked up and was gazing straight at him. + There was nothing bold in her look; it expressed a kind of languid, + imperturbable indifference. Her beauty was extraordinary; it grew and grew + as the young man observed her. In such a face the maidenly custom of + averted eyes and ready blushes would have seemed an anomaly; nature had + produced it for man’s delight and meant that it should surrender itself + freely and coldly to admiration. It was not immediately apparent, however, + that the young lady found an answering entertainment in the physiognomy of + her host; she turned her head after a moment and looked idly round the + room, and at last let her eyes rest on the statue of the woman seated. It + being left to Rowland to stimulate conversation, he began by complimenting + her on the beauty of her dog. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he ‘s very handsome,” she murmured. “He ‘s a Florentine. The dogs in + Florence are handsomer than the people.” And on Rowland’s caressing him: + “His name is Stenterello,” she added. “Stenterello, give your hand to the + gentleman.” This order was given in Italian. “Say buon giorno a lei.” + </p> + <p> + Stenterello thrust out his paw and gave four short, shrill barks; upon + which the elder lady turned round and raised her forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, my dear, remember where you are! Excuse my foolish child,” she + added, turning to Roderick with an agreeable smile. “She can think of + nothing but her poodle.” + </p> + <p> + “I am teaching him to talk for me,” the young girl went on, without + heeding her mother; “to say little things in society. It will save me a + great deal of trouble. Stenterello, love, give a pretty smile and say + tanti complimenti!” The poodle wagged his white pate—it looked like + one of those little pads in swan’s-down, for applying powder to the face—and + repeated the barking process. + </p> + <p> + “He is a wonderful beast,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “He is not a beast,” said the young girl. “A beast is something black and + dirty—something you can’t touch.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a very valuable dog,” the elder lady explained. “He was presented + to my daughter by a Florentine nobleman.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not for that I care about him. It is for himself. He is better than + the prince.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, my dear!” repeated the mother in deprecating accents, but with a + significant glance at Rowland which seemed to bespeak his attention to the + glory of possessing a daughter who could deal in that fashion with the + aristocracy. + </p> + <p> + Rowland remembered that when their unknown visitors had passed before + them, a year previous, in the Villa Ludovisi, Roderick and he had + exchanged conjectures as to their nationality and social quality. Roderick + had declared that they were old-world people; but Rowland now needed no + telling to feel that he might claim the elder lady as a + fellow-countrywoman. She was a person of what is called a great deal of + presence, with the faded traces, artfully revived here and there, of once + brilliant beauty. Her daughter had come lawfully by her loveliness, but + Rowland mentally made the distinction that the mother was silly and that + the daughter was not. The mother had a very silly mouth—a mouth, + Rowland suspected, capable of expressing an inordinate degree of unreason. + The young girl, in spite of her childish satisfaction in her poodle, was + not a person of feeble understanding. Rowland received an impression that, + for reasons of her own, she was playing a part. What was the part and what + were her reasons? She was interesting; Rowland wondered what were her + domestic secrets. If her mother was a daughter of the great Republic, it + was to be supposed that the young girl was a flower of the American soil; + but her beauty had a robustness and tone uncommon in the somewhat facile + loveliness of our western maidenhood. She spoke with a vague foreign + accent, as if she had spent her life in strange countries. The little + Italian apparently divined Rowland’s mute imaginings, for he presently + stepped forward, with a bow like a master of ceremonies. “I have not done + my duty,” he said, “in not announcing these ladies. Mrs. Light, Miss + Light!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland was not materially the wiser for this information, but Roderick + was aroused by it to the exercise of some slight hospitality. He altered + the light, pulled forward two or three figures, and made an apology for + not having more to show. “I don’t pretend to have anything of an + exhibition—I am only a novice.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?—a novice! For a novice this is very well,” Mrs. Light + declared. “Cavaliere, we have seen nothing better than this.” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere smiled rapturously. “It is stupendous!” he murmured. “And we + have been to all the studios.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to all—heaven forbid!” cried Mrs. Light. “But to a number that + I have had pointed out by artistic friends. I delight in studios: they are + the temples of the beautiful here below. And if you are a novice, Mr. + Hudson,” she went on, “you have already great admirers. Half a dozen + people have told us that yours were among the things to see.” This + gracious speech went unanswered; Roderick had already wandered across to + the other side of the studio and was revolving about Miss Light. “Ah, he + ‘s gone to look at my beautiful daughter; he is not the first that has had + his head turned,” Mrs. Light resumed, lowering her voice to a confidential + undertone; a favor which, considering the shortness of their acquaintance, + Rowland was bound to appreciate. “The artists are all crazy about her. + When she goes into a studio she is fatal to the pictures. And when she + goes into a ball-room what do the other women say? Eh, Cavaliere?” + </p> + <p> + “She is very beautiful,” Rowland said, gravely. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Light, who through her long, gold-cased glass was looking a little at + everything, and at nothing as if she saw it, interrupted her random + murmurs and exclamations, and surveyed Rowland from head to foot. She + looked at him all over; apparently he had not been mentioned to her as a + feature of Roderick’s establishment. It was the gaze, Rowland felt, which + the vigilant and ambitious mamma of a beautiful daughter has always at her + command for well-dressed young men of candid physiognomy. Her inspection + in this case seemed satisfactory. “Are you also an artist?” she inquired + with an almost caressing inflection. It was clear that what she meant was + something of this kind: “Be so good as to assure me without delay that you + are really the young man of substance and amiability that you appear.” + </p> + <p> + But Rowland answered simply the formal question—not the latent one. + “Dear me, no; I am only a friend of Mr. Hudson.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Light, with a sigh, returned to the statues, and after mistaking the + Adam for a gladiator, and the Eve for a Pocahontas, declared that she + could not judge of such things unless she saw them in the marble. Rowland + hesitated a moment, and then speaking in the interest of Roderick’s + renown, said that he was the happy possessor of several of his friend’s + works and that she was welcome to come and see them at his rooms. She bade + the Cavaliere make a note of his address. “Ah, you ‘re a patron of the + arts,” she said. “That ‘s what I should like to be if I had a little + money. I delight in beauty in every form. But all these people ask such + monstrous prices. One must be a millionaire, to think of such things, eh? + Twenty years ago my husband had my portrait painted, here in Rome, by + Papucci, who was the great man in those days. I was in a ball dress, with + all my jewels, my neck and arms, and all that. The man got six hundred + francs, and thought he was very well treated. Those were the days when a + family could live like princes in Italy for five thousand scudi a year. + The Cavaliere once upon a time was a great dandy—don’t blush, + Cavaliere; any one can see that, just as any one can see that I was once a + pretty woman! Get him to tell you what he made a figure upon. The + railroads have brought in the vulgarians. That ‘s what I call it now—the + invasion of the vulgarians! What are poor we to do?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland had begun to murmur some remedial proposition, when he was + interrupted by the voice of Miss Light calling across the room, “Mamma!” + </p> + <p> + “My own love?” + </p> + <p> + “This gentleman wishes to model my bust. Please speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere gave a little chuckle. “Already?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Rowland looked round, equally surprised at the promptitude of the + proposal. Roderick stood planted before the young girl with his arms + folded, looking at her as he would have done at the Medicean Venus. He + never paid compliments, and Rowland, though he had not heard him speak, + could imagine the startling distinctness with which he made his request. + </p> + <p> + “He saw me a year ago,” the young girl went on, “and he has been thinking + of me ever since.” Her tone, in speaking, was peculiar; it had a kind of + studied inexpressiveness, which was yet not the vulgar device of a drawl. + </p> + <p> + “I must make your daughter’s bust—that ‘s all, madame!” cried + Roderick, with warmth. + </p> + <p> + “I had rather you made the poodle’s,” said the young girl. “Is it very + tiresome? I have spent half my life sitting for my photograph, in every + conceivable attitude and with every conceivable coiffure. I think I have + posed enough.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear child,” said Mrs. Light, “it may be one’s duty to pose. But as to + my daughter’s sitting to you, sir—to a young sculptor whom we don’t + know—it is a matter that needs reflection. It is not a favor that ‘s + to be had for the mere asking.” + </p> + <p> + “If I don’t make her from life,” said Roderick, with energy, “I will make + her from memory, and if the thing ‘s to be done, you had better have it + done as well as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Mamma hesitates,” said Miss Light, “because she does n’t know whether you + mean she shall pay you for the bust. I can assure you that she will not + pay you a sou.” + </p> + <p> + “My darling, you forget yourself,” said Mrs. Light, with an attempt at + majestic severity. “Of course,” she added, in a moment, with a change of + note, “the bust would be my own property.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” cried Roderick, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest mother,” interposed the young girl, “how can you carry a marble + bust about the world with you? Is it not enough to drag the poor + original?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, you ‘re nonsensical!” cried Mrs. Light, almost angrily. + </p> + <p> + “You can always sell it,” said the young girl, with the same artful + artlessness. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Light turned to Rowland, who pitied her, flushed and irritated. “She + is very wicked to-day!” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere grinned in silence and walked away on tiptoe, with his hat + to his lips, as if to leave the field clear for action. Rowland, on the + contrary, wished to avert the coming storm. “You had better not refuse,” + he said to Miss Light, “until you have seen Mr. Hudson’s things in the + marble. Your mother is to come and look at some that I possess.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you; I have no doubt you will see us. I dare say Mr. Hudson is very + clever; but I don’t care for modern sculpture. I can’t look at it!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall care for my bust, I promise you!” cried Roderick, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “To satisfy Miss Light,” said the Cavaliere, “one of the old Greeks ought + to come to life.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be worth his while,” said Roderick, paying, to Rowland’s + knowledge, his first compliment. + </p> + <p> + “I might sit to Phidias, if he would promise to be very amusing and make + me laugh. What do you say, Stenterello? would you sit to Phidias?” + </p> + <p> + “We must talk of this some other time,” said Mrs. Light. “We are in Rome + for the winter. Many thanks. Cavaliere, call the carriage.” The Cavaliere + led the way out, backing like a silver-stick, and Miss Light, following + her mother, nodded, without looking at them, to each of the young men. + </p> + <p> + “Immortal powers, what a head!” cried Roderick, when they had gone. “There + ‘s my fortune!” + </p> + <p> + “She is certainly very beautiful,” said Rowland. “But I ‘m sorry you have + undertaken her bust.” + </p> + <p> + “And why, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “I suspect it will bring trouble with it.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know. They are queer people. The mamma, I suspect, is the least + bit of an adventuress. Heaven knows what the daughter is.” + </p> + <p> + “She ‘s a goddess!” cried Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “Just so. She is all the more dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Dangerous? What will she do to me? She does n’t bite, I imagine.” + </p> + <p> + “It remains to be seen. There are two kinds of women—you ought to + know it by this time—the safe and the unsafe. Miss Light, if I am + not mistaken, is one of the unsafe. A word to the wise!” + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged!” said Roderick, and he began to whistle a triumphant air, + in honor, apparently, of the advent of his beautiful model. + </p> + <p> + In calling this young lady and her mamma “queer people,” Rowland but + roughly expressed his sentiment. They were so marked a variation from the + monotonous troop of his fellow-country people that he felt much curiosity + as to the sources of the change, especially since he doubted greatly + whether, on the whole, it elevated the type. For a week he saw the two + ladies driving daily in a well-appointed landau, with the Cavaliere and + the poodle in the front seat. From Mrs. Light he received a gracious + salute, tempered by her native majesty; but the young girl, looking + straight before her, seemed profoundly indifferent to observers. Her + extraordinary beauty, however, had already made observers numerous and + given the habitues of the Pincian plenty to talk about. The echoes of + their commentary reached Rowland’s ears; but he had little taste for + random gossip, and desired a distinctly veracious informant. He had found + one in the person of Madame Grandoni, for whom Mrs. Light and her + beautiful daughter were a pair of old friends. + </p> + <p> + “I have known the mamma for twenty years,” said this judicious critic, + “and if you ask any of the people who have been living here as long as I, + you will find they remember her well. I have held the beautiful Christina + on my knee when she was a little wizened baby with a very red face and no + promise of beauty but those magnificent eyes. Ten years ago Mrs. Light + disappeared, and has not since been seen in Rome, except for a few days + last winter, when she passed through on her way to Naples. Then it was you + met the trio in the Ludovisi gardens. When I first knew her she was the + unmarried but very marriageable daughter of an old American painter of + very bad landscapes, which people used to buy from charity and use for + fire-boards. His name was Savage; it used to make every one laugh, he was + such a mild, melancholy, pitiful old gentleman. He had married a horrible + wife, an Englishwoman who had been on the stage. It was said she used to + beat poor Savage with his mahl-stick and when the domestic finances were + low to lock him up in his studio and tell him he should n’t come out until + he had painted half a dozen of his daubs. She had a good deal of showy + beauty. She would then go forth, and, her beauty helping, she would make + certain people take the pictures. It helped her at last to make an English + lord run away with her. At the time I speak of she had quite disappeared. + Mrs. Light was then a very handsome girl, though by no means so handsome + as her daughter has now become. Mr. Light was an American consul, newly + appointed at one of the Adriatic ports. He was a mild, fair-whiskered + young man, with some little property, and my impression is that he had got + into bad company at home, and that his family procured him his place to + keep him out of harm’s way. He came up to Rome on a holiday, fell in love + with Miss Savage, and married her on the spot. He had not been married + three years when he was drowned in the Adriatic, no one ever knew how. The + young widow came back to Rome, to her father, and here shortly afterwards, + in the shadow of Saint Peter’s, her little girl was born. It might have + been supposed that Mrs. Light would marry again, and I know she had + opportunities. But she overreached herself. She would take nothing less + than a title and a fortune, and they were not forthcoming. She was admired + and very fond of admiration; very vain, very worldly, very silly. She + remained a pretty widow, with a surprising variety of bonnets and a dozen + men always in her train. Giacosa dates from this period. He calls himself + a Roman, but I have an impression he came up from Ancona with her. He was + l’ami de la maison. He used to hold her bouquets, clean her gloves (I was + told), run her errands, get her opera-boxes, and fight her battles with + the shopkeepers. For this he needed courage, for she was smothered in + debt. She at last left Rome to escape her creditors. Many of them must + remember her still, but she seems now to have money to satisfy them. She + left her poor old father here alone—helpless, infirm and unable to + work. A subscription was shortly afterwards taken up among the foreigners, + and he was sent back to America, where, as I afterwards heard, he died in + some sort of asylum. From time to time, for several years, I heard vaguely + of Mrs. Light as a wandering beauty at French and German watering-places. + Once came a rumor that she was going to make a grand marriage in England; + then we heard that the gentleman had thought better of it and left her to + keep afloat as she could. She was a terribly scatter-brained creature. She + pretends to be a great lady, but I consider that old Filomena, my + washer-woman, is in essentials a greater one. But certainly, after all, + she has been fortunate. She embarked at last on a lawsuit about some + property, with her husband’s family, and went to America to attend to it. + She came back triumphant, with a long purse. She reappeared in Italy, and + established herself for a while in Venice. Then she came to Florence, + where she spent a couple of years and where I saw her. Last year she + passed down to Naples, which I should have said was just the place for + her, and this winter she has laid siege to Rome. She seems very + prosperous. She has taken a floor in the Palazzo F——, she + keeps her carriage, and Christina and she, between them, must have a + pretty milliner’s bill. Giacosa has turned up again, looking as if he had + been kept on ice at Ancona, for her return.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of education,” Rowland asked, “do you imagine the mother’s + adventures to have been for the daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “A strange school! But Mrs. Light told me, in Florence, that she had given + her child the education of a princess. In other words, I suppose, she + speaks three or four languages, and has read several hundred French + novels. Christina, I suspect, is very clever. When I saw her, I was amazed + at her beauty, and, certainly, if there is any truth in faces, she ought + to have the soul of an angel. Perhaps she has. I don’t judge her; she ‘s + an extraordinary young person. She has been told twenty times a day by her + mother, since she was five years old, that she is a beauty of beauties, + that her face is her fortune, and that, if she plays her cards, she may + marry a duke. If she has not been fatally corrupted, she is a very + superior girl. My own impression is that she is a mixture of good and bad, + of ambition and indifference. Mrs. Light, having failed to make her own + fortune in matrimony, has transferred her hopes to her daughter, and + nursed them till they have become a kind of monomania. She has a hobby, + which she rides in secret; but some day she will let you see it. I ‘m sure + that if you go in some evening unannounced, you will find her scanning the + tea-leaves in her cup, or telling her daughter’s fortune with a greasy + pack of cards, preserved for the purpose. She promises her a prince—a + reigning prince. But if Mrs. Light is silly, she is shrewd, too, and, lest + considerations of state should deny her prince the luxury of a love-match, + she keeps on hand a few common mortals. At the worst she would take a + duke, an English lord, or even a young American with a proper number of + millions. The poor woman must be rather uncomfortable. She is always + building castles and knocking them down again—always casting her + nets and pulling them in. If her daughter were less of a beauty, her + transparent ambition would be very ridiculous; but there is something in + the girl, as one looks at her, that seems to make it very possible she is + marked out for one of those wonderful romantic fortunes that history now + and then relates. ‘Who, after all, was the Empress of the French?’ Mrs. + Light is forever saying. ‘And beside Christina the Empress is a dowdy!’” + </p> + <p> + “And what does Christina say?” + </p> + <p> + “She makes no scruple, as you know, of saying that her mother is a fool. + What she thinks, heaven knows. I suspect that, practically, she does not + commit herself. She is excessively proud, and thinks herself good enough + to occupy the highest station in the world; but she knows that her mother + talks nonsense, and that even a beautiful girl may look awkward in making + unsuccessful advances. So she remains superbly indifferent, and lets her + mother take the risks. If the prince is secured, so much the better; if he + is not, she need never confess to herself that even a prince has slighted + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Your report is as solid,” Rowland said to Madame Grandoni, thanking her, + “as if it had been prepared for the Academy of Sciences;” and he + congratulated himself on having listened to it when, a couple of days + later, Mrs. Light and her daughter, attended by the Cavaliere and the + poodle, came to his rooms to look at Roderick’s statues. It was more + comfortable to know just with whom he was dealing. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Light was prodigiously gracious, and showered down compliments not + only on the statues, but on all his possessions. “Upon my word,” she said, + “you men know how to make yourselves comfortable. If one of us poor women + had half as many easy-chairs and knick-knacks, we should be famously + abused. It ‘s really selfish to be living all alone in such a place as + this. Cavaliere, how should you like this suite of rooms and a fortune to + fill them with pictures and statues? Christina, love, look at that mosaic + table. Mr. Mallet, I could almost beg it from you. Yes, that Eve is + certainly very fine. We need n’t be ashamed of such a great-grandmother as + that. If she was really such a beautiful woman, it accounts for the good + looks of some of us. Where is Mr. What ‘s-his-name, the young sculptor? + Why is n’t he here to be complimented?” + </p> + <p> + Christina had remained but for a moment in the chair which Rowland had + placed for her, had given but a cursory glance at the statues, and then, + leaving her place, had begun to wander round the room—looking at + herself in the mirror, touching the ornaments and curiosities, glancing at + the books and prints. Rowland’s sitting-room was encumbered with + bric-a-brac, and she found plenty of occupation. Rowland presently joined + her, and pointed out some of the objects he most valued. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s an odd jumble,” she said frankly. “Some things are very pretty—some + are very ugly. But I like ugly things, when they have a certain look. + Prettiness is terribly vulgar nowadays, and it is not every one that knows + just the sort of ugliness that has chic. But chic is getting dreadfully + common too. There ‘s a hint of it even in Madame Baldi’s bonnets. I like + looking at people’s things,” she added in a moment, turning to Rowland and + resting her eyes on him. “It helps you to find out their characters.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to suppose,” asked Rowland, smiling, “that you have arrived at any + conclusions as to mine?” + </p> + <p> + “I am rather muddled; you have too many things; one seems to contradict + another. You are very artistic and yet you are very prosaic; you have what + is called a ‘catholic’ taste and yet you are full of obstinate little + prejudices and habits of thought, which, if I knew you, I should find very + tiresome. I don’t think I like you.” + </p> + <p> + “You make a great mistake,” laughed Rowland; “I assure you I am very + amiable.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am probably wrong, and if I knew you, I should find out I was + wrong, and that would irritate me and make me dislike you more. So you see + we are necessary enemies.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t dislike you.” + </p> + <p> + “Worse and worse; for you certainly will not like me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very discouraging.” + </p> + <p> + “I am fond of facing the truth, though some day you will deny that. Where + is that queer friend of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Mr. Hudson. He is represented by these beautiful works.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Light looked for some moments at Roderick’s statues. “Yes,” she said, + “they are not so silly as most of the things we have seen. They have no + chic, and yet they are beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “You describe them perfectly,” said Rowland. “They are beautiful, and yet + they have no chic. That ‘s it!” + </p> + <p> + “If he will promise to put none into my bust, I have a mind to let him + make it. A request made in those terms deserves to be granted.” + </p> + <p> + “In what terms?” + </p> + <p> + “Did n’t you hear him? ‘Mademoiselle, you almost satisfy my conception of + the beautiful. I must model your bust.’ That almost should be rewarded. He + is like me; he likes to face the truth. I think we should get on + together.” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere approached Rowland, to express the pleasure he had derived + from his beautiful “collection.” His smile was exquisitely bland, his + accent appealing, caressing, insinuating. But he gave Rowland an odd sense + of looking at a little waxen image, adjusted to perform certain gestures + and emit certain sounds. It had once contained a soul, but the soul had + leaked out. Nevertheless, Rowland reflected, there are more profitless + things than mere sound and gesture, in a consummate Italian. And the + Cavaliere, too, had soul enough left to desire to speak a few words on his + own account, and call Rowland’s attention to the fact that he was not, + after all, a hired cicerone, but an ancient Roman gentleman. Rowland felt + sorry for him; he hardly knew why. He assured him in a friendly fashion + that he must come again; that his house was always at his service. The + Cavaliere bowed down to the ground. “You do me too much honor,” he + murmured. “If you will allow me—it is not impossible!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Light, meanwhile, had prepared to depart. “If you are not afraid to + come and see two quiet little women, we shall be most happy!” she said. + “We have no statues nor pictures—we have nothing but each other. Eh, + darling?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Christina. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, and the Cavaliere,” added her mother. + </p> + <p> + “The poodle, please!” cried the young girl. + </p> + <p> + Rowland glanced at the Cavaliere; he was smiling more blandly than ever. + </p> + <p> + A few days later Rowland presented himself, as civility demanded, at Mrs. + Light’s door. He found her living in one of the stately houses of the Via + dell’ Angelo Custode, and, rather to his surprise, was told she was at + home. He passed through half a dozen rooms and was ushered into an immense + saloon, at one end of which sat the mistress of the establishment, with a + piece of embroidery. She received him very graciously, and then, pointing + mysteriously to a large screen which was unfolded across the embrasure of + one of the deep windows, “I am keeping guard!” she said. Rowland looked + interrogative; whereupon she beckoned him forward and motioned him to look + behind the screen. He obeyed, and for some moments stood gazing. Roderick, + with his back turned, stood before an extemporized pedestal, ardently + shaping a formless mass of clay. Before him sat Christina Light, in a + white dress, with her shoulders bare, her magnificent hair twisted into a + classic coil, and her head admirably poised. Meeting Rowland’s gaze, she + smiled a little, only with her deep gray eyes, without moving. She looked + divinely beautiful. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. Christina + </h2> + <p> + The brilliant Roman winter came round again, and Rowland enjoyed it, in a + certain way, more deeply than before. He grew at last to feel that sense + of equal possession, of intellectual nearness, which it belongs to the + peculiar magic of the ancient city to infuse into minds of a cast that she + never would have produced. He became passionately, unreasoningly fond of + all Roman sights and sensations, and to breathe the Roman atmosphere began + to seem a needful condition of being. He could not have defined and + explained the nature of his great love, nor have made up the sum of it by + the addition of his calculable pleasures. It was a large, vague, idle, + half-profitless emotion, of which perhaps the most pertinent thing that + may be said is that it enforced a sort of oppressive reconciliation to the + present, the actual, the sensuous—to life on the terms that there + offered themselves. It was perhaps for this very reason that, in spite of + the charm which Rome flings over one’s mood, there ran through Rowland’s + meditations an undertone of melancholy, natural enough in a mind which + finds its horizon insidiously limited to the finite, even in very + picturesque forms. Whether it is one that tacitly concedes to the Roman + Church the monopoly of a guarantee of immortality, so that if one is + indisposed to bargain with her for the precious gift, one must do without + it altogether; or whether in an atmosphere so heavily weighted with echoes + and memories one grows to believe that there is nothing in one’s + consciousness that is not foredoomed to moulder and crumble and become + dust for the feet, and possible malaria for the lungs, of future + generations—the fact at least remains that one parts half-willingly + with one’s hopes in Rome, and misses them only under some very exceptional + stress of circumstance. For this reason one may perhaps say that there is + no other place in which one’s daily temper has such a mellow serenity, and + none, at the same time, in which acute attacks of depression are more + intolerable. Rowland found, in fact, a perfect response to his prevision + that to live in Rome was an education to one’s senses and one’s + imagination, but he sometimes wondered whether this was not a questionable + gain in case of one’s not being prepared to live wholly by one’s + imagination and one’s senses. The tranquil profundity of his daily + satisfaction seemed sometimes to turn, by a mysterious inward impulse, and + face itself with questioning, admonishing, threatening eyes. “But + afterwards...?” it seemed to ask, with a long reverberation; and he could + give no answer but a shy affirmation that there was no such thing as + afterwards, and a hope, divided against itself, that his actual way of + life would last forever. He often felt heavy-hearted; he was sombre + without knowing why; there were no visible clouds in his heaven, but there + were cloud-shadows on his mood. Shadows projected, they often were, + without his knowing it, by an undue apprehension that things after all + might not go so ideally well with Roderick. When he understood his anxiety + it vexed him, and he rebuked himself for taking things unmanfully hard. If + Roderick chose to follow a crooked path, it was no fault of his; he had + given him, he would continue to give him, all that he had offered him—friendship, + sympathy, advice. He had not undertaken to provide him with unflagging + strength of purpose, nor to stand bondsman for unqualified success. + </p> + <p> + If Rowland felt his roots striking and spreading in the Roman soil, + Roderick also surrendered himself with renewed abandon to the local + influence. More than once he declared to his companion that he meant to + live and die within the shadow of Saint Peter’s, and that he cared little + if he never again drew breath in American air. “For a man of my + temperament, Rome is the only possible place,” he said; “it ‘s better to + recognize the fact early than late. So I shall never go home unless I am + absolutely forced.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your idea of ‘force’?” asked Rowland, smiling. “It seems to me + you have an excellent reason for going home some day or other.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you mean my engagement?” Roderick answered with unaverted eyes. “Yes, + I am distinctly engaged, in Northampton, and impatiently waited for!” And + he gave a little sympathetic sigh. “To reconcile Northampton and Rome is + rather a problem. Mary had better come out here. Even at the worst I have + no intention of giving up Rome within six or eight years, and an + engagement of that duration would be rather absurd.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Garland could hardly leave your mother,” Rowland observed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course my mother should come. I think I will suggest it in my next + letter. It will take her a year or two to make up her mind to it, but if + she consents it will brighten her up. It ‘s too small a life, over there, + even for a timid old lady. It is hard to imagine,” he added, “any change + in Mary being a change for the better; but I should like her to take a + look at the world and have her notions stretched a little. One is never so + good, I suppose, but that one can improve a little.” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish your mother and Miss Garland to come,” Rowland suggested, + “you had better go home and bring them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can’t think of leaving Europe, for many a day,” Roderick answered. + “At present it would quite break the charm. I am just beginning to profit, + to get used to things and take them naturally. I am sure the sight of + Northampton Main Street would permanently upset me.” + </p> + <p> + It was reassuring to hear that Roderick, in his own view, was but “just + beginning” to spread his wings, and Rowland, if he had had any + forebodings, might have suffered them to be modified by this declaration. + This was the first time since their meeting at Geneva that Roderick had + mentioned Miss Garland’s name, but the ice being broken, he indulged for + some time afterward in frequent allusions to his betrothed, which always + had an accent of scrupulous, of almost studied, consideration. An + uninitiated observer, hearing him, would have imagined her to be a person + of a certain age—possibly an affectionate maiden aunt—who had + once done him a kindness which he highly appreciated: perhaps presented + him with a check for a thousand dollars. Rowland noted the difference + between his present frankness and his reticence during the first six + months of his engagement, and sometimes wondered whether it was not rather + an anomaly that he should expatiate more largely as the happy event + receded. He had wondered over the whole matter, first and last, in a great + many different ways, and looked at it in all possible lights. There was + something terribly hard to explain in the fact of his having fallen in + love with his cousin. She was not, as Rowland conceived her, the sort of + girl he would have been likely to fancy, and the operation of sentiment, + in all cases so mysterious, was particularly so in this one. Just why it + was that Roderick should not logically have fancied Miss Garland, his + companion would have been at loss to say, but I think the conviction had + its roots in an unformulated comparison between himself and the accepted + suitor. Roderick and he were as different as two men could be, and yet + Roderick had taken it into his head to fall in love with a woman for whom + he himself had been keeping in reserve, for years, a profoundly + characteristic passion. That if he chose to conceive a great notion of the + merits of Roderick’s mistress, the irregularity here was hardly + Roderick’s, was a view of the case to which poor Rowland did scanty + justice. There were women, he said to himself, whom it was every one’s + business to fall in love with a little—women beautiful, brilliant, + artful, easily fascinating. Miss Light, for instance, was one of these; + every man who spoke to her did so, if not in the language, at least with + something of the agitation, the divine tremor, of a lover. There were + other women—they might have great beauty, they might have small; + perhaps they were generally to be classified as plain—whose triumphs + in this line were rare, but immutably permanent. Such a one preeminently, + was Mary Garland. Upon the doctrine of probabilities, it was unlikely that + she had had an equal charm for each of them, and was it not possible, + therefore, that the charm for Roderick had been simply the charm imagined, + unquestioningly accepted: the general charm of youth, sympathy, kindness—of + the present feminine, in short—enhanced indeed by several fine + facial traits? The charm in this case for Rowland was—the charm!—the + mysterious, individual, essential woman. There was an element in the + charm, as his companion saw it, which Rowland was obliged to recognize, + but which he forbore to ponder; the rather important attraction, namely, + of reciprocity. As to Miss Garland being in love with Roderick and + becoming charming thereby, this was a point with which his imagination + ventured to take no liberties; partly because it would have been + indelicate, and partly because it would have been vain. He contented + himself with feeling that the young girl was still as vivid an image in + his memory as she had been five days after he left her, and with drifting + nearer and nearer to the impression that at just that crisis any other + girl would have answered Roderick’s sentimental needs as well. Any other + girl indeed would do so still! Roderick had confessed as much to him at + Geneva, in saying that he had been taking at Baden the measure of his + susceptibility to female beauty. + </p> + <p> + His extraordinary success in modeling the bust of the beautiful Miss Light + was pertinent evidence of this amiable quality. She sat to him, + repeatedly, for a fortnight, and the work was rapidly finished. On one of + the last days Roderick asked Rowland to come and give his opinion as to + what was still wanting; for the sittings had continued to take place in + Mrs. Light’s apartment, the studio being pronounced too damp for the fair + model. When Rowland presented himself, Christina, still in her white + dress, with her shoulders bare, was standing before a mirror, readjusting + her hair, the arrangement of which, on this occasion, had apparently not + met the young sculptor’s approval. He stood beside her, directing the + operation with a peremptoriness of tone which seemed to Rowland to denote + a considerable advance in intimacy. As Rowland entered, Christina was + losing patience. “Do it yourself, then!” she cried, and with a rapid + movement unloosed the great coil of her tresses and let them fall over her + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + They were magnificent, and with her perfect face dividing their rippling + flow she looked like some immaculate saint of legend being led to + martyrdom. Rowland’s eyes presumably betrayed his admiration, but her own + manifested no consciousness of it. If Christina was a coquette, as the + remarkable timeliness of this incident might have suggested, she was not a + superficial one. + </p> + <p> + “Hudson ‘s a sculptor,” said Rowland, with warmth. “But if I were only a + painter!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven you are not!” said Christina. “I am having quite enough of + this minute inspection of my charms.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear young man, hands off!” cried Mrs. Light, coming forward and + seizing her daughter’s hair. “Christina, love, I am surprised.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it indelicate?” Christina asked. “I beg Mr. Mallet’s pardon.” Mrs. + Light gathered up the dusky locks and let them fall through her fingers, + glancing at her visitor with a significant smile. Rowland had never been + in the East, but if he had attempted to make a sketch of an old + slave-merchant, calling attention to the “points” of a Circassian beauty, + he would have depicted such a smile as Mrs. Light’s. “Mamma ‘s not really + shocked,” added Christina in a moment, as if she had guessed her mother’s + by-play. “She is only afraid that Mr. Hudson might have injured my hair, + and that, per consequenza, I should sell for less.” + </p> + <p> + “You unnatural child!” cried mamma. “You deserve that I should make a + fright of you!” And with half a dozen skillful passes she twisted the + tresses into a single picturesque braid, placed high on the head, as a + kind of coronal. + </p> + <p> + “What does your mother do when she wants to do you justice?” Rowland + asked, observing the admirable line of the young girl’s neck. + </p> + <p> + “I do her justice when I say she says very improper things. What is one to + do with such a thorn in the flesh?” Mrs. Light demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it at your leisure, Mr. Mallet,” said Christina, “and when you + ‘ve discovered something, let us hear. But I must tell you that I shall + not willingly believe in any remedy of yours, for you have something in + your physiognomy that particularly provokes me to make the remarks that my + mother so sincerely deplores. I noticed it the first time I saw you. I + think it ‘s because your face is so broad. For some reason or other, broad + faces exasperate me; they fill me with a kind of rabbia. Last summer, at + Carlsbad, there was an Austrian count, with enormous estates and some + great office at court. He was very attentive—seriously so; he was + really very far gone. Cela ne tenait qu’ a moi! But I could n’t; he was + impossible! He must have measured, from ear to ear, at least a yard and a + half. And he was blond, too, which made it worse—as blond as + Stenterello; pure fleece! So I said to him frankly, ‘Many thanks, Herr + Graf; your uniform is magnificent, but your face is too fat.’” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid that mine also,” said Rowland, with a smile, “seems just now + to have assumed an unpardonable latitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I take it you know very well that we are looking for a husband, and + that none but tremendous swells need apply. Surely, before these + gentlemen, mamma, I may speak freely; they are disinterested. Mr. Mallet + won’t do, because, though he ‘s rich, he ‘s not rich enough. Mamma made + that discovery the day after we went to see you, moved to it by the + promising look of your furniture. I hope she was right, eh? Unless you + have millions, you know, you have no chance.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel like a beggar,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, some better girl than I will decide some day, after mature + reflection, that on the whole you have enough. Mr. Hudson, of course, is + nowhere; he has nothing but his genius and his beaux yeux.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick had stood looking at Christina intently while she delivered + herself, softly and slowly, of this surprising nonsense. When she had + finished, she turned and looked at him; their eyes met, and he blushed a + little. “Let me model you, and he who can may marry you!” he said, + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Light, while her daughter talked, had been adding a few touches to + her coiffure. “She is not so silly as you might suppose,” she said to + Rowland, with dignity. “If you will give me your arm, we will go and look + at the bust.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that represent a silly girl?” Christina demanded, when they stood + before it. + </p> + <p> + Rowland transferred his glance several times from the portrait to the + original. “It represents a young lady,” he said, “whom I should not + pretend to judge off-hand.” + </p> + <p> + “She may be a fool, but you are not sure. Many thanks! You have seen me + half a dozen times. You are either very slow or I am very deep.” + </p> + <p> + “I am certainly slow,” said Rowland. “I don’t expect to make up my mind + about you within six months.” + </p> + <p> + “I give you six months if you will promise then a perfectly frank opinion. + Mind, I shall not forget; I shall insist upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, though I am slow, I am tolerably brave,” said Rowland. “We shall + see.” + </p> + <p> + Christina looked at the bust with a sigh. “I am afraid, after all,” she + said, “that there ‘s very little wisdom in it save what the artist has put + there. Mr. Hudson looked particularly wise while he was working; he + scowled and growled, but he never opened his mouth. It is very kind of him + not to have represented me gaping.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had talked a lot of stuff to you,” said Roderick, roundly, “the + thing would not have been a tenth so good.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it good, after all? Mr. Mallet is a famous connoisseur; has he not + come here to pronounce?” + </p> + <p> + The bust was in fact a very happy performance, and Roderick had risen to + the level of his subject. It was thoroughly a portrait, and not a vague + fantasy executed on a graceful theme, as the busts of pretty women, in + modern sculpture, are apt to be. The resemblance was deep and vivid; there + was extreme fidelity of detail and yet a noble simplicity. One could say + of the head that, without idealization, it was a representation of ideal + beauty. Rowland, however, as we know, was not fond of exploding into + superlatives, and, after examining the piece, contented himself with + suggesting two or three alterations of detail. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, how can you be so cruel?” demanded Mrs. Light, with soft + reproachfulness. “It is surely a wonderful thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Rowland knows it ‘s a wonderful thing,” said Roderick, smiling. “I can + tell that by his face. The other day I finished something he thought bad, + and he looked very differently from this.” + </p> + <p> + “How did Mr. Mallet look?” asked Christina. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Rowland,” said Roderick, “I am speaking of my seated woman. You + looked as if you had on a pair of tight boots.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my child, you ‘ll not understand that!” cried Mrs. Light. “You never + yet had a pair that were small enough.” + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s a pity, Mr. Hudson,” said Christina, gravely, “that you could not + have introduced my feet into the bust. But we can hang a pair of slippers + round the neck!” + </p> + <p> + “I nevertheless like your statues, Roderick,” Rowland rejoined, “better + than your jokes. This is admirable. Miss Light, you may be proud!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Mallet, for the permission,” rejoined the young girl. + </p> + <p> + “I am dying to see it in the marble, with a red velvet screen behind it,” + said Mrs. Light. + </p> + <p> + “Placed there under the Sassoferrato!” Christina went on. “I hope you keep + well in mind, Mr. Hudson, that you have not a grain of property in your + work, and that if mamma chooses, she may have it photographed and the + copies sold in the Piazza di Spagna, at five francs apiece, without your + having a sou of the profits.” + </p> + <p> + “Amen!” said Roderick. “It was so nominated in the bond. My profits are + here!” and he tapped his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “It would be prettier if you said here!” And Christina touched her heart. + </p> + <p> + “My precious child, how you do run on!” murmured Mrs. Light. + </p> + <p> + “It is Mr. Mallet,” the young girl answered. “I can’t talk a word of sense + so long as he is in the room. I don’t say that to make you go,” she added, + “I say it simply to justify myself.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland bowed in silence. Roderick declared that he must get at work and + requested Christina to take her usual position, and Mrs. Light proposed to + her visitor that they should adjourn to her boudoir. This was a small + room, hardly more spacious than an alcove, opening out of the drawing-room + and having no other issue. Here, as they entered, on a divan near the + door, Rowland perceived the Cavaliere Giacosa, with his arms folded, his + head dropped upon his breast, and his eyes closed. + </p> + <p> + “Sleeping at his post!” said Rowland with a kindly laugh. + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s a punishable offense,” rejoined Mrs. Light, sharply. She was on + the point of calling him, in the same tone, when he suddenly opened his + eyes, stared a moment, and then rose with a smile and a bow. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, dear lady,” he said, “I was overcome by the—the great + heat.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Cavaliere!” cried the lady, “you know we are perishing here + with the cold! You had better go and cool yourself in one of the other + rooms.” + </p> + <p> + “I obey, dear lady,” said the Cavaliere; and with another smile and bow to + Rowland he departed, walking very discreetly on his toes. Rowland + out-stayed him but a short time, for he was not fond of Mrs. Light, and he + found nothing very inspiring in her frank intimation that if he chose, he + might become a favorite. He was disgusted with himself for pleasing her; + he confounded his fatal urbanity. In the court-yard of the palace he + overtook the Cavaliere, who had stopped at the porter’s lodge to say a + word to his little girl. She was a young lady of very tender years and she + wore a very dirty pinafore. He had taken her up in his arms and was + singing an infantine rhyme to her, and she was staring at him with big, + soft Roman eyes. On seeing Rowland he put her down with a kiss, and + stepped forward with a conscious grin, an unresentful admission that he + was sensitive both to chubbiness and ridicule. Rowland began to pity him + again; he had taken his dismissal from the drawing-room so meekly. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t keep your promise,” said Rowland, “to come and see me. Don’t + forget it. I want you to tell me about Rome thirty years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Thirty years ago? Ah, dear sir, Rome is Rome still; a place where strange + things happen! But happy things too, since I have your renewed permission + to call. You do me too much honor. Is it in the morning or in the evening + that I should least intrude?” + </p> + <p> + “Take your own time, Cavaliere; only come, sometime. I depend upon you,” + said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere thanked him with an humble obeisance. To the Cavaliere, too, + he felt that he was, in Roman phrase, sympathetic, but the idea of + pleasing this extremely reduced gentleman was not disagreeable to him. + </p> + <p> + Miss Light’s bust stood for a while on exhibition in Roderick’s studio, + and half the foreign colony came to see it. With the completion of his + work, however, Roderick’s visits at the Palazzo F—— by no + means came to an end. He spent half his time in Mrs. Light’s drawing-room, + and began to be talked about as “attentive” to Christina. The success of + the bust restored his equanimity, and in the garrulity of his good-humor + he suffered Rowland to see that she was just now the object uppermost in + his thoughts. Rowland, when they talked of her, was rather listener than + speaker; partly because Roderick’s own tone was so resonant and exultant, + and partly because, when his companion laughed at him for having called + her unsafe, he was too perplexed to defend himself. The impression + remained that she was unsafe; that she was a complex, willful, passionate + creature, who might easily engulf a too confiding spirit in the eddies of + her capricious temper. And yet he strongly felt her charm; the eddies had + a strange fascination! Roderick, in the glow of that renewed admiration + provoked by the fixed attention of portrayal, was never weary of + descanting on the extraordinary perfection of her beauty. + </p> + <p> + “I had no idea of it,” he said, “till I began to look at her with an eye + to reproducing line for line and curve for curve. Her face is the most + exquisite piece of modeling that ever came from creative hands. Not a line + without meaning, not a hair’s breadth that is not admirably finished. And + then her mouth! It ‘s as if a pair of lips had been shaped to utter pure + truth without doing it dishonor!” Later, after he had been working for a + week, he declared if Miss Light were inordinately plain, she would still + be the most fascinating of women. “I ‘ve quite forgotten her beauty,” he + said, “or rather I have ceased to perceive it as something distinct and + defined, something independent of the rest of her. She is all one, and all + consummately interesting!” + </p> + <p> + “What does she do—what does she say, that is so remarkable?” Rowland + had asked. + </p> + <p> + “Say? Sometimes nothing—sometimes everything. She is never the same. + Sometimes she walks in and takes her place without a word, without a + smile, gravely, stiffly, as if it were an awful bore. She hardly looks at + me, and she walks away without even glancing at my work. On other days she + laughs and chatters and asks endless questions, and pours out the most + irresistible nonsense. She is a creature of moods; you can’t count upon + her; she keeps observation on the stretch. And then, bless you, she has + seen such a lot! Her talk is full of the oddest allusions!” + </p> + <p> + “It is altogether a very singular type of young lady,” said Rowland, after + the visit which I have related at length. “It may be a charm, but it is + certainly not the orthodox charm of marriageable maidenhood, the charm of + shrinking innocence and soft docility. Our American girls are accused of + being more knowing than any others, and Miss Light is nominally an + American. But it has taken twenty years of Europe to make her what she is. + The first time we saw her, I remember you called her a product of the old + world, and certainly you were not far wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, she has an atmosphere,” said Roderick, in the tone of high + appreciation. + </p> + <p> + “Young unmarried women,” Rowland answered, “should be careful not to have + too much!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you don’t forgive her,” cried his companion, “for hitting you so + hard! A man ought to be flattered at such a girl as that taking so much + notice of him.” + </p> + <p> + “A man is never flattered at a woman’s not liking him.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure she does n’t like you? That ‘s to the credit of your + humility. A fellow of more vanity might, on the evidence, persuade himself + that he was in favor.” + </p> + <p> + “He would have also,” said Rowland, laughing, “to be a fellow of + remarkable ingenuity!” He asked himself privately how the deuce Roderick + reconciled it to his conscience to think so much more of the girl he was + not engaged to than of the girl he was. But it amounted almost to + arrogance, you may say, in poor Rowland to pretend to know how often + Roderick thought of Miss Garland. He wondered gloomily, at any rate, + whether for men of his companion’s large, easy power, there was not a + larger moral law than for narrow mediocrities like himself, who, yielding + Nature a meagre interest on her investment (such as it was), had no reason + to expect from her this affectionate laxity as to their accounts. Was it + not a part of the eternal fitness of things that Roderick, while + rhapsodizing about Miss Light, should have it at his command to look at + you with eyes of the most guileless and unclouded blue, and to shake off + your musty imputations by a toss of his picturesque brown locks? Or had + he, in fact, no conscience to speak of? Happy fellow, either way! + </p> + <p> + Our friend Gloriani came, among others, to congratulate Roderick on his + model and what he had made of her. “Devilish pretty, through and through!” + he said as he looked at the bust. “Capital handling of the neck and + throat; lovely work on the nose. You ‘re a detestably lucky fellow, my + boy! But you ought not to have squandered such material on a simple bust; + you should have made a great imaginative figure. If I could only have got + hold of her, I would have put her into a statue in spite of herself. What + a pity she is not a ragged Trasteverine, whom we might have for a franc an + hour! I have been carrying about in my head for years a delicious design + for a fantastic figure, but it has always stayed there for want of a + tolerable model. I have seen intimations of the type, but Miss Light is + the perfection of it. As soon as I saw her I said to myself, ‘By Jove, + there ‘s my statue in the flesh!’” + </p> + <p> + “What is your subject?” asked Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t take it ill,” said Gloriani. “You know I ‘m the very deuce for + observation. She would make a magnificent Herodias!” + </p> + <p> + If Roderick had taken it ill (which was unlikely, for we know he thought + Gloriani an ass, and expected little of his wisdom), he might have been + soothed by the candid incense of Sam Singleton, who came and sat for an + hour in a sort of mental prostration before both bust and artist. But + Roderick’s attitude before his patient little devotee was one of + undisguised though friendly amusement; and, indeed, judged from a strictly + plastic point of view, the poor fellow’s diminutive stature, his enormous + mouth, his pimples and his yellow hair were sufficiently ridiculous. “Nay, + don’t envy our friend,” Rowland said to Singleton afterwards, on his + expressing, with a little groan of depreciation of his own paltry + performances, his sense of the brilliancy of Roderick’s talent. “You sail + nearer the shore, but you sail in smoother waters. Be contented with what + you are and paint me another picture.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t envy Hudson anything he possesses,” Singleton said, “because + to take anything away would spoil his beautiful completeness. ‘Complete,’ + that ‘s what he is; while we little clevernesses are like half-ripened + plums, only good eating on the side that has had a glimpse of the sun. + Nature has made him so, and fortune confesses to it! He is the handsomest + fellow in Rome, he has the most genius, and, as a matter of course, the + most beautiful girl in the world comes and offers to be his model. If that + is not completeness, where shall we find it?” + </p> + <p> + One morning, going into Roderick’s studio, Rowland found the young + sculptor entertaining Miss Blanchard—if this is not too flattering a + description of his gracefully passive tolerance of her presence. He had + never liked her and never climbed into her sky-studio to observe her + wonderful manipulation of petals. He had once quoted Tennyson against her:— + </p> + <p> + “And is there any moral shut Within the bosom of the rose?” + </p> + <p> + “In all Miss Blanchard’s roses you may be sure there is a moral,” he had + said. “You can see it sticking out its head, and, if you go to smell the + flower, it scratches your nose.” But on this occasion she had come with a + propitiatory gift—introducing her friend Mr. Leavenworth. Mr. + Leavenworth was a tall, expansive, bland gentleman, with a carefully + brushed whisker and a spacious, fair, well-favored face, which seemed, + somehow, to have more room in it than was occupied by a smile of superior + benevolence, so that (with his smooth, white forehead) it bore a certain + resemblance to a large parlor with a very florid carpet, but no pictures + on the walls. He held his head high, talked sonorously, and told Roderick, + within five minutes, that he was a widower, traveling to distract his + mind, and that he had lately retired from the proprietorship of large + mines of borax in Pennsylvania. Roderick supposed at first that, in his + character of depressed widower, he had come to order a tombstone; but + observing then the extreme blandness of his address to Miss Blanchard, he + credited him with a judicious prevision that by the time the tombstone was + completed, a monument of his inconsolability might have become an + anachronism. But Mr. Leavenworth was disposed to order something. + </p> + <p> + “You will find me eager to patronize our indigenous talent,” he said. “I + am putting up a little shanty in my native town, and I propose to make a + rather nice thing of it. It has been the will of Heaven to plunge me into + mourning; but art has consolations! In a tasteful home, surrounded by the + memorials of my wanderings, I hope to take more cheerful views. I ordered + in Paris the complete appurtenances of a dining-room. Do you think you + could do something for my library? It is to be filled with well-selected + authors, and I think a pure white image in this style,”—pointing to + one of Roderick’s statues,—“standing out against the morocco and + gilt, would have a noble effect. The subject I have already fixed upon. I + desire an allegorical representation of Culture. Do you think, now,” asked + Mr. Leavenworth, encouragingly, “you could rise to the conception?” + </p> + <p> + “A most interesting subject for a truly serious mind,” remarked Miss + Blanchard. + </p> + <p> + Roderick looked at her a moment, and then—“The simplest thing I + could do,” he said, “would be to make a full-length portrait of Miss + Blanchard. I could give her a scroll in her hand, and that would do for + the allegory.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Blanchard colored; the compliment might be ironical; and there was + ever afterwards a reflection of her uncertainty in her opinion of + Roderick’s genius. Mr. Leavenworth responded that with all deference to + Miss Blanchard’s beauty, he desired something colder, more monumental, + more impersonal. “If I were to be the happy possessor of a likeness of + Miss Blanchard,” he added, “I should prefer to have it in no factitious + disguise!” + </p> + <p> + Roderick consented to entertain the proposal, and while they were + discussing it, Rowland had a little talk with the fair artist. “Who is + your friend?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A very worthy man. The architect of his own fortune—which is + magnificent. One of nature’s gentlemen!” + </p> + <p> + This was a trifle sententious, and Rowland turned to the bust of Miss + Light. Like every one else in Rome, by this time, Miss Blanchard had an + opinion on the young girl’s beauty, and, in her own fashion, she expressed + it epigrammatically. “She looks half like a Madonna and half like a + ballerina,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Leavenworth and Roderick came to an understanding, and the young + sculptor good-naturedly promised to do his best to rise to his patron’s + conception. “His conception be hanged!” Roderick exclaimed, after he had + departed. “His conception is sitting on a globe with a pen in her ear and + a photographic album in her hand. I shall have to conceive, myself. For + the money, I ought to be able to!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Light, meanwhile, had fairly established herself in Roman society. + “Heaven knows how!” Madame Grandoni said to Rowland, who had mentioned to + her several evidences of the lady’s prosperity. “In such a case there is + nothing like audacity. A month ago she knew no one but her washerwoman, + and now I am told that the cards of Roman princesses are to be seen on her + table. She is evidently determined to play a great part, and she has the + wit to perceive that, to make remunerative acquaintances, you must seem + yourself to be worth knowing. You must have striking rooms and a confusing + variety of dresses, and give good dinners, and so forth. She is spending a + lot of money, and you ‘ll see that in two or three weeks she will take + upon herself to open the season by giving a magnificent ball. Of course it + is Christina’s beauty that floats her. People go to see her because they + are curious.” + </p> + <p> + “And they go again because they are charmed,” said Rowland. “Miss + Christina is a very remarkable young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know it well; I had occasion to say so to myself the other day. She + came to see me, of her own free will, and for an hour she was deeply + interesting. I think she ‘s an actress, but she believes in her part while + she is playing it. She took it into her head the other day to believe that + she was very unhappy, and she sat there, where you are sitting, and told + me a tale of her miseries which brought tears into my eyes. She cried, + herself, profusely, and as naturally as possible. She said she was weary + of life and that she knew no one but me she could speak frankly to. She + must speak, or she would go mad. She sobbed as if her heart would break. I + assure you it ‘s well for you susceptible young men that you don’t see her + when she sobs. She said, in so many words, that her mother was an immoral + woman. Heaven knows what she meant. She meant, I suppose, that she makes + debts that she knows she can’t pay. She said the life they led was + horrible; that it was monstrous a poor girl should be dragged about the + world to be sold to the highest bidder. She was meant for better things; + she could be perfectly happy in poverty. It was not money she wanted. I + might not believe her, but she really cared for serious things. Sometimes + she thought of taking poison!” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “I recommended her,” said Madame Grandoni, “to come and see me instead. I + would help her about as much, and I was, on the whole, less unpleasant. Of + course I could help her only by letting her talk herself out and kissing + her and patting her beautiful hands and telling her to be patient and she + would be happy yet. About once in two months I expect her to reappear, on + the same errand, and meanwhile to quite forget my existence. I believe I + melted down to the point of telling her that I would find some good, + quiet, affectionate husband for her; but she declared, almost with fury, + that she was sick unto death of husbands, and begged I would never again + mention the word. And, in fact, it was a rash offer; for I am sure that + there is not a man of the kind that might really make a woman happy but + would be afraid to marry mademoiselle. Looked at in that way she is + certainly very much to be pitied, and indeed, altogether, though I don’t + think she either means all she says or, by a great deal, says all that she + means. I feel very sorry for her.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland met the two ladies, about this time, at several entertainments, + and looked at Christina with a kind of distant attendrissement. He + imagined more than once that there had been a passionate scene between + them about coming out, and wondered what arguments Mrs. Light had found + effective. But Christina’s face told no tales, and she moved about, + beautiful and silent, looking absently over people’s heads, barely heeding + the men who pressed about her, and suggesting somehow that the soul of a + world-wearied mortal had found its way into the blooming body of a + goddess. “Where in the world has Miss Light been before she is twenty,” + observers asked, “to have left all her illusions behind?” And the general + verdict was, that though she was incomparably beautiful, she was + intolerably proud. Young ladies to whom the former distinction was not + conceded were free to reflect that she was “not at all liked.” + </p> + <p> + It would have been difficult to guess, however, how they reconciled this + conviction with a variety of conflicting evidence, and, in especial, with + the spectacle of Roderick’s inveterate devotion. All Rome might behold + that he, at least, “liked” Christina Light. Wherever she appeared he was + either awaiting her or immediately followed her. He was perpetually at her + side, trying, apparently, to preserve the thread of a disconnected talk, + the fate of which was, to judge by her face, profoundly immaterial to the + young lady. People in general smiled at the radiant good faith of the + handsome young sculptor, and asked each other whether he really supposed + that beauties of that quality were meant to wed with poor artists. But + although Christina’s deportment, as I have said, was one of superb + inexpressiveness, Rowland had derived from Roderick no suspicion that he + suffered from snubbing, and he was therefore surprised at an incident + which befell one evening at a large musical party. Roderick, as usual, was + in the field, and, on the ladies taking the chairs which had been arranged + for them, he immediately placed himself beside Christina. As most of the + gentlemen were standing, his position made him as conspicuous as Hamlet at + Ophelia’s feet, at the play. Rowland was leaning, somewhat apart, against + the chimney-piece. There was a long, solemn pause before the music began, + and in the midst of it Christina rose, left her place, came the whole + length of the immense room, with every one looking at her, and stopped + before him. She was neither pale nor flushed; she had a soft smile. + </p> + <p> + “Will you do me a favor?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand!” + </p> + <p> + “Not now, but at your earliest convenience. Please remind Mr. Hudson that + he is not in a New England village—that it is not the custom in Rome + to address one’s conversation exclusively, night after night, to the same + poor girl, and that”.... + </p> + <p> + The music broke out with a great blare and covered her voice. She made a + gesture of impatience, and Rowland offered her his arm and led her back to + her seat. + </p> + <p> + The next day he repeated her words to Roderick, who burst into joyous + laughter. “She ‘s a delightfully strange girl!” he cried. “She must do + everything that comes into her head!” + </p> + <p> + “Had she never asked you before not to talk to her so much?” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, she has often said to me, ‘Mind you now, I forbid you to + leave me. Here comes that tiresome So-and-so.’ She cares as little about + the custom as I do. What could be a better proof than her walking up to + you, with five hundred people looking at her? Is that the custom for young + girls in Rome?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, should she take such a step?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, as she sat there, it came into her head. That ‘s reason enough + for her. I have imagined she wishes me well, as they say here—though + she has never distinguished me in such a way as that!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Grandoni had foretold the truth; Mrs. Light, a couple of weeks + later, convoked all Roman society to a brilliant ball. Rowland went late, + and found the staircase so encumbered with flower-pots and servants that + he was a long time making his way into the presence of the hostess. At + last he approached her, as she stood making courtesies at the door, with + her daughter by her side. Some of Mrs. Light’s courtesies were very low, + for she had the happiness of receiving a number of the social potentates + of the Roman world. She was rosy with triumph, to say nothing of a less + metaphysical cause, and was evidently vastly contented with herself, with + her company, and with the general promise of destiny. Her daughter was + less overtly jubilant, and distributed her greetings with impartial + frigidity. She had never been so beautiful. Dressed simply in vaporous + white, relieved with half a dozen white roses, the perfection of her + features and of her person and the mysterious depth of her expression + seemed to glow with the white light of a splendid pearl. She recognized no + one individually, and made her courtesy slowly, gravely, with her eyes on + the ground. Rowland fancied that, as he stood before her, her obeisance + was slightly exaggerated, as with an intention of irony; but he smiled + philosophically to himself, and reflected, as he passed into the room, + that, if she disliked him, he had nothing to reproach himself with. He + walked about, had a few words with Miss Blanchard, who, with a fillet of + cameos in her hair, was leaning on the arm of Mr. Leavenworth, and at last + came upon the Cavaliere Giacosa, modestly stationed in a corner. The + little gentleman’s coat-lappet was decorated with an enormous bouquet and + his neck encased in a voluminous white handkerchief of the fashion of + thirty years ago. His arms were folded, and he was surveying the scene + with contracted eyelids, through which you saw the glitter of his + intensely dark, vivacious pupil. He immediately embarked on an elaborate + apology for not having yet manifested, as he felt it, his sense of the + honor Rowland had done him. + </p> + <p> + “I am always on service with these ladies, you see,” he explained, “and + that is a duty to which one would not willingly be faithless for an + instant.” + </p> + <p> + “Evidently,” said Rowland, “you are a very devoted friend. Mrs. Light, in + her situation, is very happy in having you.” + </p> + <p> + “We are old friends,” said the Cavaliere, gravely. “Old friends. I knew + the signora many years ago, when she was the prettiest woman in Rome—or + rather in Ancona, which is even better. The beautiful Christina, now, is + perhaps the most beautiful young girl in Europe!” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir, I taught her to read; I guided her little hands to touch + the piano keys.” And at these faded memories, the Cavaliere’s eyes + glittered more brightly. Rowland half expected him to proceed, with a + little flash of long-repressed passion, “And now—and now, sir, they + treat me as you observed the other day!” But the Cavaliere only looked out + at him keenly from among his wrinkles, and seemed to say, with all the + vividness of the Italian glance, “Oh, I say nothing more. I am not so + shallow as to complain!” + </p> + <p> + Evidently the Cavaliere was not shallow, and Rowland repeated + respectfully, “You are a devoted friend.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s very true. I am a devoted friend. A man may do himself justice, + after twenty years!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland, after a pause, made some remark about the beauty of the ball. It + was very brilliant. + </p> + <p> + “Stupendous!” said the Cavaliere, solemnly. “It is a great day. We have + four Roman princes, to say nothing of others.” And he counted them over on + his fingers and held up his hand triumphantly. “And there she stands, the + girl to whom I—I, Giuseppe Giacosa—taught her alphabet and her + piano-scales; there she stands in her incomparable beauty, and Roman + princes come and bow to her. Here, in his corner, her old master permits + himself to be proud.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very friendly of him,” said Rowland, smiling. + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere contracted his lids a little more and gave another keen + glance. “It is very natural, signore. The Christina is a good girl; she + remembers my little services. But here comes,” he added in a moment, “the + young Prince of the Fine Arts. I am sure he has bowed lowest of all.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland looked round and saw Roderick moving slowly across the room and + casting about him his usual luminous, unshrinking looks. He presently + joined them, nodded familiarly to the Cavaliere, and immediately demanded + of Rowland, “Have you seen her?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen Miss Light,” said Rowland. “She ‘s magnificent.” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m half crazy!” cried Roderick; so loud that several persons turned + round. + </p> + <p> + Rowland saw that he was flushed, and laid his hand on his arm. Roderick + was trembling. “If you will go away,” Rowland said instantly, “I will go + with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Go away?” cried Roderick, almost angrily. “I intend to dance with her!” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere had been watching him attentively; he gently laid his hand + on his other arm. “Softly, softly, dear young man,” he said. “Let me speak + to you as a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, speak even as an enemy and I shall not mind it,” Roderick answered, + frowning. + </p> + <p> + “Be very reasonable, then, and go away.” + </p> + <p> + “Why the deuce should I go away?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you are in love,” said the Cavaliere. + </p> + <p> + “I might as well be in love here as in the streets.” + </p> + <p> + “Carry your love as far as possible from Christina. She will not listen to + you—she can’t.” + </p> + <p> + “She ‘can’t’?” demanded Roderick. “She is not a person of whom you may say + that. She can if she will; she does as she chooses.” + </p> + <p> + “Up to a certain point. It would take too long to explain; I only beg you + to believe that if you continue to love Miss Light you will be very + unhappy. Have you a princely title? have you a princely fortune? Otherwise + you can never have her.” + </p> + <p> + And the Cavaliere folded his arms again, like a man who has done his duty. + Roderick wiped his forehead and looked askance at Rowland; he seemed to be + guessing his thoughts and they made him blush a little. But he smiled + blandly, and addressing the Cavaliere, “I ‘m much obliged to you for the + information,” he said. “Now that I have obtained it, let me tell you that + I am no more in love with Miss Light than you are. Mr. Mallet knows that. + I admire her—yes, profoundly. But that ‘s no one’s business but my + own, and though I have, as you say, neither a princely title nor a + princely fortune, I mean to suffer neither those advantages nor those who + possess them to diminish my right.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are not in love, my dear young man,” said the Cavaliere, with his + hand on his heart and an apologetic smile, “so much the better. But let me + entreat you, as an affectionate friend, to keep a watch on your emotions. + You are young, you are handsome, you have a brilliant genius and a + generous heart, but—I may say it almost with authority—Christina + is not for you!” + </p> + <p> + Whether Roderick was in love or not, he was nettled by what apparently + seemed to him an obtrusive negation of an inspiring possibility. “You + speak as if she had made her choice!” he cried. “Without pretending to + confidential information on the subject, I am sure she has not.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but she must make it soon,” said the Cavaliere. And raising his + forefinger, he laid it against his under lip. “She must choose a name and + a fortune—and she will!” + </p> + <p> + “She will do exactly as her inclination prompts! She will marry the man + who pleases her, if he has n’t a dollar! I know her better than you.” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere turned a little paler than usual, and smiled more urbanely. + “No, no, my dear young man, you do not know her better than I. You have + not watched her, day by day, for twenty years. I too have admired her. She + is a good girl; she has never said an unkind word to me; the blessed + Virgin be thanked! But she must have a brilliant destiny; it has been + marked out for her, and she will submit. You had better believe me; it may + save you much suffering.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see!” said Roderick, with an excited laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly we shall see. But I retire from the discussion,” the Cavaliere + added. “I have no wish to provoke you to attempt to prove to me that I am + wrong. You are already excited.” + </p> + <p> + “No more than is natural to a man who in an hour or so is to dance the + cotillon with Miss Light.” + </p> + <p> + “The cotillon? has she promised?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick patted the air with a grand confidence. “You ‘ll see!” His + gesture might almost have been taken to mean that the state of his + relations with Miss Light was such that they quite dispensed with vain + formalities. + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere gave an exaggerated shrug. “You make a great many mourners!” + </p> + <p> + “He has made one already!” Rowland murmured to himself. This was evidently + not the first time that reference had been made between Roderick and the + Cavaliere to the young man’s possible passion, and Roderick had failed to + consider it the simplest and most natural course to say in three words to + the vigilant little gentleman that there was no cause for alarm—his + affections were preoccupied. Rowland hoped, silently, with some dryness, + that his motives were of a finer kind than they seemed to be. He turned + away; it was irritating to look at Roderick’s radiant, unscrupulous + eagerness. The tide was setting toward the supper-room and he drifted with + it to the door. The crowd at this point was dense, and he was obliged to + wait for some minutes before he could advance. At last he felt his + neighbors dividing behind him, and turning he saw Christina pressing her + way forward alone. She was looking at no one, and, save for the fact of + her being alone, you would not have supposed she was in her mother’s + house. As she recognized Rowland she beckoned to him, took his arm, and + motioned him to lead her into the supper-room. She said nothing until he + had forced a passage and they stood somewhat isolated. + </p> + <p> + “Take me into the most out-of-the-way corner you can find,” she then said, + “and then go and get me a piece of bread.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more? There seems to be everything conceivable.” + </p> + <p> + “A simple roll. Nothing more, on your peril. Only bring something for + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Rowland that the embrasure of a window (embrasures in Roman + palaces are deep) was a retreat sufficiently obscure for Miss Light to + execute whatever design she might have contrived against his equanimity. A + roll, after he had found her a seat, was easily procured. As he presented + it, he remarked that, frankly speaking, he was at loss to understand why + she should have selected for the honor of a tete-a-tete an individual for + whom she had so little taste. + </p> + <p> + “Ah yes, I dislike you,” said Christina. “To tell the truth, I had + forgotten it. There are so many people here whom I dislike more, that when + I espied you just now, you seemed like an intimate friend. But I have not + come into this corner to talk nonsense,” she went on. “You must not think + I always do, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I have never heard you do anything else,” said Rowland, deliberately, + having decided that he owed her no compliments. + </p> + <p> + “Very good. I like your frankness. It ‘s quite true. You see, I am a + strange girl. To begin with, I am frightfully egotistical. Don’t flatter + yourself you have said anything very clever if you ever take it into your + head to tell me so. I know it much better than you. So it is, I can’t help + it. I am tired to death of myself; I would give all I possess to get out + of myself; but somehow, at the end, I find myself so vastly more + interesting than nine tenths of the people I meet. If a person wished to + do me a favor I would say to him, ‘I beg you, with tears in my eyes, to + interest me. Be strong, be positive, be imperious, if you will; only be + something,—something that, in looking at, I can forget my detestable + self!’ Perhaps that is nonsense too. If it is, I can’t help it. I can only + apologize for the nonsense I know to be such and that I talk—oh, for + more reasons than I can tell you! I wonder whether, if I were to try, you + would understand me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I should never understand,” said Rowland, “why a person + should willingly talk nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “That proves how little you know about women. But I like your frankness. + When I told you the other day that you displeased me, I had an idea you + were more formal,—how do you say it?—more guinde. I am very + capricious. To-night I like you better.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am not guinde,” said Rowland, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, then, for thinking so. Now I have an idea that you + would make a useful friend—an intimate friend—a friend to whom + one could tell everything. For such a friend, what would n’t I give!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland looked at her in some perplexity. Was this touching sincerity, or + unfathomable coquetry? Her beautiful eyes looked divinely candid; but + then, if candor was beautiful, beauty was apt to be subtle. “I hesitate to + recommend myself out and out for the office,” he said, “but I believe that + if you were to depend upon me for anything that a friend may do, I should + not be found wanting.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. One of the first things one asks of a friend is to judge one + not by isolated acts, but by one’s whole conduct. I care for your opinion—I + don’t know why.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor do I, I confess,” said Rowland with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of this affair?” she continued, without heeding his + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Of your ball? Why, it ‘s a very grand affair.” + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s horrible—that ‘s what it is! It ‘s a mere rabble! There are + people here whom I never saw before, people who were never asked. Mamma + went about inviting every one, asking other people to invite any one they + knew, doing anything to have a crowd. I hope she is satisfied! It is not + my doing. I feel weary, I feel angry, I feel like crying. I have twenty + minds to escape into my room and lock the door and let mamma go through + with it as she can. By the way,” she added in a moment, without a visible + reason for the transition, “can you tell me something to read?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland stared, at the disconnectedness of the question. + </p> + <p> + “Can you recommend me some books?” she repeated. “I know you are a great + reader. I have no one else to ask. We can buy no books. We can make debts + for jewelry and bonnets and five-button gloves, but we can’t spend a sou + for ideas. And yet, though you may not believe it, I like ideas quite as + well.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be most happy to lend you some books,” Rowland said. “I will pick + some out to-morrow and send them to you.” + </p> + <p> + “No novels, please! I am tired of novels. I can imagine better stories for + myself than any I read. Some good poetry, if there is such a thing + nowadays, and some memoirs and histories and books of facts.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall be served. Your taste agrees with my own.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent a moment, looking at him. Then suddenly—“Tell me + something about Mr. Hudson,” she demanded. “You are great friends!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” said Rowland; “we are great friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about him. Come, begin!” + </p> + <p> + “Where shall I begin? You know him for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t know him; I don’t find him so easy to know. Since he has + finished my bust and begun to come here disinterestedly, he has become a + great talker. He says very fine things; but does he mean all he says?” + </p> + <p> + “Few of us do that.” + </p> + <p> + “You do, I imagine. You ought to know, for he tells me you discovered + him.” Rowland was silent, and Christina continued, “Do you consider him + very clever?” + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably.” + </p> + <p> + “His talent is really something out of the common way?” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems to me.” + </p> + <p> + “In short, he ‘s a man of genius?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, call it genius.” + </p> + <p> + “And you found him vegetating in a little village and took him by the hand + and set him on his feet in Rome?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the popular legend?” asked Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you need n’t be modest. There was no great merit in it; there would + have been none at least on my part in the same circumstances. Real + geniuses are not so common, and if I had discovered one in the wilderness, + I would have brought him out into the market-place to see how he would + behave. It would be excessively amusing. You must find it so to watch Mr. + Hudson, eh? Tell me this: do you think he is going to be a great man—become + famous, have his life written, and all that?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t prophesy, but I have good hopes.” + </p> + <p> + Christina was silent. She stretched out her bare arm and looked at it a + moment absently, turning it so as to see—or almost to see—the + dimple in her elbow. This was apparently a frequent gesture with her; + Rowland had already observed it. It was as coolly and naturally done as if + she had been in her room alone. “So he ‘s a man of genius,” she suddenly + resumed. “Don’t you think I ought to be extremely flattered to have a man + of genius perpetually hanging about? He is the first I ever saw, but I + should have known he was not a common mortal. There is something strange + about him. To begin with, he has no manners. You may say that it ‘s not + for me to blame him, for I have none myself. That ‘s very true, but the + difference is that I can have them when I wish to (and very charming ones + too; I ‘ll show you some day); whereas Mr. Hudson will never have them. + And yet, somehow, one sees he ‘s a gentleman. He seems to have something + urging, driving, pushing him, making him restless and defiant. You see it + in his eyes. They are the finest, by the way, I ever saw. When a person + has such eyes as that you can forgive him his bad manners. I suppose that + is what they call the sacred fire.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland made no answer except to ask her in a moment if she would have + another roll. She merely shook her head and went on:— + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how you found him. Where was he—how was he?” + </p> + <p> + “He was in a place called Northampton. Did you ever hear of it? He was + studying law—but not learning it.” + </p> + <p> + “It appears it was something horrible, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Something horrible?” + </p> + <p> + “This little village. No society, no pleasures, no beauty, no life.” + </p> + <p> + “You have received a false impression. Northampton is not as gay as Rome, + but Roderick had some charming friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about them. Who were they?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there was my cousin, through whom I made his acquaintance: a + delightful woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Young—pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a good deal of both. And very clever.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he make love to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, who else?” + </p> + <p> + “He lived with his mother. She is the best of women.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah yes, I know all that one’s mother is. But she does not count as + society. And who else?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland hesitated. He wondered whether Christina’s insistence was the + result of a general interest in Roderick’s antecedents or of a particular + suspicion. He looked at her; she was looking at him a little askance, + waiting for his answer. As Roderick had said nothing about his engagement + to the Cavaliere, it was probable that with this beautiful girl he had not + been more explicit. And yet the thing was announced, it was public; that + other girl was happy in it, proud of it. Rowland felt a kind of dumb anger + rising in his heart. He deliberated a moment intently. + </p> + <p> + “What are you frowning at?” Christina asked. + </p> + <p> + “There was another person,” he answered, “the most important of all: the + young girl to whom he is engaged.” + </p> + <p> + Christina stared a moment, raising her eyebrows. “Ah, Mr. Hudson is + engaged?” she said, very simply. “Is she pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “She is not called a beauty,” said Rowland. He meant to practice great + brevity, but in a moment he added, “I have seen beauties, however, who + pleased me less.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, she pleases you, too? Why don’t they marry?” + </p> + <p> + “Roderick is waiting till he can afford to marry.” + </p> + <p> + Christina slowly put out her arm again and looked at the dimple in her + elbow. “Ah, he ‘s engaged?” she repeated in the same tone. “He never told + me.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland perceived at this moment that the people about them were beginning + to return to the dancing-room, and immediately afterwards he saw Roderick + making his way toward themselves. Roderick presented himself before Miss + Light. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t claim that you have promised me the cotillon,” he said, “but I + consider that you have given me hopes which warrant the confidence that + you will dance with me.” + </p> + <p> + Christina looked at him a moment. “Certainly I have made no promises,” she + said. “It seemed to me that, as the daughter of the house, I should keep + myself free and let it depend on circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “I beseech you to dance with me!” said Roderick, with vehemence. + </p> + <p> + Christina rose and began to laugh. “You say that very well, but the + Italians do it better.” + </p> + <p> + This assertion seemed likely to be put to the proof. Mrs. Light hastily + approached, leading, rather than led by, a tall, slim young man, of an + unmistakably Southern physiognomy. “My precious love,” she cried, “what a + place to hide in! We have been looking for you for twenty minutes; I have + chosen a cavalier for you, and chosen well!” + </p> + <p> + The young man disengaged himself, made a ceremonious bow, joined his two + hands, and murmured with an ecstatic smile, “May I venture to hope, dear + signorina, for the honor of your hand?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you may!” said Mrs. Light. “The honor is for us.” + </p> + <p> + Christina hesitated but for a moment, then swept the young man a courtesy + as profound as his own bow. “You are very kind, but you are too late. I + have just accepted!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my own darling!” murmured—almost moaned—Mrs. Light. + </p> + <p> + Christina and Roderick exchanged a single glance—a glance brilliant + on both sides. She passed her hand into his arm; he tossed his clustering + locks and led her away. + </p> + <p> + A short time afterwards Rowland saw the young man whom she had rejected + leaning against a doorway. He was ugly, but what is called + distinguished-looking. He had a heavy black eye, a sallow complexion, a + long, thin neck; his hair was cropped en brosse. He looked very young, yet + extremely bored. He was staring at the ceiling and stroking an + imperceptible moustache. Rowland espied the Cavaliere Giacosa hard by, + and, having joined him, asked him the young man’s name. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said the Cavaliere, “he ‘s a pezzo grosso! A Neapolitan. Prince + Casamassima.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. Frascati + </h2> + <p> + One day, on entering Roderick’s lodging (not the modest rooms on the + Ripetta which he had first occupied, but a much more sumptuous apartment + on the Corso), Rowland found a letter on the table addressed to himself. + It was from Roderick, and consisted of but three lines: “I am gone to + Frascati—for meditation. If I am not at home on Friday, you had + better join me.” On Friday he was still absent, and Rowland went out to + Frascati. Here he found his friend living at the inn and spending his + days, according to his own account, lying under the trees of the Villa + Mondragone, reading Ariosto. He was in a sombre mood; “meditation” seemed + not to have been fruitful. Nothing especially pertinent to our narrative + had passed between the two young men since Mrs. Light’s ball, save a few + words bearing on an incident of that entertainment. Rowland informed + Roderick, the next day, that he had told Miss Light of his engagement. “I + don’t know whether you ‘ll thank me,” he had said, “but it ‘s my duty to + let you know it. Miss Light perhaps has already done so.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick looked at him a moment, intently, with his color slowly rising. + “Why should n’t I thank you?” he asked. “I am not ashamed of my + engagement.” + </p> + <p> + “As you had not spoken of it yourself, I thought you might have a reason + for not having it known.” + </p> + <p> + “A man does n’t gossip about such a matter with strangers,” Roderick + rejoined, with the ring of irritation in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “With strangers—no!” said Rowland, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Roderick continued his work; but after a moment, turning round with a + frown: “If you supposed I had a reason for being silent, pray why should + you have spoken?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not speak idly, my dear Roderick. I weighed the matter before I + spoke, and promised myself to let you know immediately afterwards. It + seemed to me that Miss Light had better know that your affections are + pledged.” + </p> + <p> + “The Cavaliere has put it into your head, then, that I am making love to + her?” + </p> + <p> + “No; in that case I would not have spoken to her first.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean, then, that she is making love to me?” + </p> + <p> + “This is what I mean,” said Rowland, after a pause. “That girl finds you + interesting, and is pleased, even though she may play indifference, at + your finding her so. I said to myself that it might save her some + sentimental disappointment to know without delay that you are not at + liberty to become indefinitely interested in other women.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have taken the measure of my liberty with extraordinary + minuteness!” cried Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “You must do me justice. I am the cause of your separation from Miss + Garland, the cause of your being exposed to temptations which she hardly + even suspects. How could I ever face her,” Rowland demanded, with much + warmth of tone, “if at the end of it all she should be unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + “I had no idea that Miss Garland had made such an impression on you. You + are too zealous; I take it she did n’t charge you to look after her + interests.” + </p> + <p> + “If anything happens to you, I am accountable. You must understand that.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s a view of the situation I can’t accept; in your own interest, no + less than in mine. It can only make us both very uncomfortable. I know all + I owe you; I feel it; you know that! But I am not a small boy nor an outer + barbarian any longer, and, whatever I do, I do with my eyes open. When I + do well, the merit ‘s mine; if I do ill, the fault ‘s mine! The idea that + I make you nervous is detestable. Dedicate your nerves to some better + cause, and believe that if Miss Garland and I have a quarrel, we shall + settle it between ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland had found himself wondering, shortly before, whether possibly his + brilliant young friend was without a conscience; now it dimly occurred to + him that he was without a heart. Rowland, as we have already intimated, + was a man with a moral passion, and no small part of it had gone forth + into his relations with Roderick. There had been, from the first, no + protestations of friendship on either side, but Rowland had implicitly + offered everything that belongs to friendship, and Roderick had, + apparently, as deliberately accepted it. Rowland, indeed, had taken an + exquisite satisfaction in his companion’s deep, inexpressive assent to his + interest in him. “Here is an uncommonly fine thing,” he said to himself: + “a nature unconsciously grateful, a man in whom friendship does the thing + that love alone generally has the credit of—knocks the bottom out of + pride!” His reflective judgment of Roderick, as time went on, had indulged + in a great many irrepressible vagaries; but his affection, his sense of + something in his companion’s whole personality that overmastered his heart + and beguiled his imagination, had never for an instant faltered. He + listened to Roderick’s last words, and then he smiled as he rarely smiled—with + bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t at all like your telling me I am too zealous,” he said. “If I had + not been zealous, I should never have cared a fig for you.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick flushed deeply, and thrust his modeling tool up to the handle + into the clay. “Say it outright! You have been a great fool to believe in + me.” + </p> + <p> + “I desire to say nothing of the kind, and you don’t honestly believe I + do!” said Rowland. “It seems to me I am really very good-natured even to + reply to such nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick sat down, crossed his arms, and fixed his eyes on the floor. + Rowland looked at him for some moments; it seemed to him that he had never + so clearly read his companion’s strangely commingled character—his + strength and his weakness, his picturesque personal attractiveness and his + urgent egoism, his exalted ardor and his puerile petulance. It would have + made him almost sick, however, to think that, on the whole, Roderick was + not a generous fellow, and he was so far from having ceased to believe in + him that he felt just now, more than ever, that all this was but the + painful complexity of genius. Rowland, who had not a grain of genius + either to make one say he was an interested reasoner, or to enable one to + feel that he could afford a dangerous theory or two, adhered to his + conviction of the essential salubrity of genius. Suddenly he felt an + irresistible compassion for his companion; it seemed to him that his + beautiful faculty of production was a double-edged instrument, susceptible + of being dealt in back-handed blows at its possessor. Genius was + priceless, inspired, divine; but it was also, at its hours, capricious, + sinister, cruel; and men of genius, accordingly, were alternately very + enviable and very helpless. It was not the first time he had had a sense + of Roderick’s standing helpless in the grasp of his temperament. It had + shaken him, as yet, but with a half good-humored wantonness; but, + henceforth, possibly, it meant to handle him more roughly. These were not + times, therefore, for a friend to have a short patience. + </p> + <p> + “When you err, you say, the fault ‘s your own,” he said at last. “It is + because your faults are your own that I care about them.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland’s voice, when he spoke with feeling, had an extraordinary amenity. + Roderick sat staring a moment longer at the floor, then he sprang up and + laid his hand affectionately on his friend’s shoulder. “You are the best + man in the world,” he said, “and I am a vile brute. Only,” he added in a + moment, “you don’t understand me!” And he looked at him with eyes of such + radiant lucidity that one might have said (and Rowland did almost say so, + himself) that it was the fault of one’s own grossness if one failed to + read to the bottom of that beautiful soul. + </p> + <p> + Rowland smiled sadly. “What is it now? Explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can’t explain!” cried Roderick impatiently, returning to his work. + “I have only one way of expressing my deepest feelings—it ‘s this!” + And he swung his tool. He stood looking at the half-wrought clay for a + moment, and then flung the instrument down. “And even this half the time + plays me false!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland felt that his irritation had not subsided, and he himself had no + taste for saying disagreeable things. Nevertheless he saw no sufficient + reason to forbear uttering the words he had had on his conscience from the + beginning. “We must do what we can and be thankful,” he said. “And let me + assure you of this—that it won’t help you to become entangled with + Miss Light.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick pressed his hand to his forehead with vehemence and then shook it + in the air, despairingly; a gesture that had become frequent with him + since he had been in Italy. “No, no, it ‘s no use; you don’t understand + me! But I don’t blame you. You can’t!” + </p> + <p> + “You think it will help you, then?” said Rowland, wondering. + </p> + <p> + “I think that when you expect a man to produce beautiful and wonderful + works of art, you ought to allow him a certain freedom of action, you + ought to give him a long rope, you ought to let him follow his fancy and + look for his material wherever he thinks he may find it! A mother can’t + nurse her child unless she follows a certain diet; an artist can’t bring + his visions to maturity unless he has a certain experience. You demand of + us to be imaginative, and you deny us that which feeds the imagination. In + labor we must be as passionate as the inspired sibyl; in life we must be + mere machines. It won’t do. When you have got an artist to deal with, you + must take him as he is, good and bad together. I don’t say they are + pleasant fellows to know or easy fellows to live with; I don’t say they + satisfy themselves any better than other people. I only say that if you + want them to produce, you must let them conceive. If you want a bird to + sing, you must not cover up its cage. Shoot them, the poor devils, drown + them, exterminate them, if you will, in the interest of public morality; + it may be morality would gain—I dare say it would! But if you suffer + them to live, let them live on their own terms and according to their own + inexorable needs!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland burst out laughing. “I have no wish whatever either to shoot you + or to drown you!” he said. “Why launch such a tirade against a warning + offered you altogether in the interest of your freest development? Do you + really mean that you have an inexorable need of embarking on a flirtation + with Miss Light?—a flirtation as to the felicity of which there may + be differences of opinion, but which cannot at best, under the + circumstances, be called innocent. Your last summer’s adventures were more + so! As for the terms on which you are to live, I had an idea you had + arranged them otherwise!” + </p> + <p> + “I have arranged nothing—thank God! I don’t pretend to arrange. I am + young and ardent and inquisitive, and I admire Miss Light. That ‘s enough. + I shall go as far as admiration leads me. I am not afraid. Your genuine + artist may be sometimes half a madman, but he ‘s not a coward!” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose that in your speculation you should come to grief, not only + sentimentally but artistically?” + </p> + <p> + “Come what come will! If I ‘m to fizzle out, the sooner I know it the + better. Sometimes I half suspect it. But let me at least go out and + reconnoitre for the enemy, and not sit here waiting for him, cudgeling my + brains for ideas that won’t come!” + </p> + <p> + Do what he would, Rowland could not think of Roderick’s theory of + unlimited experimentation, especially as applied in the case under + discussion, as anything but a pernicious illusion. But he saw it was vain + to combat longer, for inclination was powerfully on Roderick’s side. He + laid his hand on Roderick’s shoulder, looked at him a moment with troubled + eyes, then shook his head mournfully and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t work any more,” said Roderick. “You have upset me! I ‘ll go and + stroll on the Pincian.” And he tossed aside his working-jacket and + prepared himself for the street. As he was arranging his cravat before the + glass, something occurred to him which made him thoughtful. He stopped a + few moments afterward, as they were going out, with his hand on the + door-knob. “You did, from your own point of view, an indiscreet thing,” he + said, “to tell Miss Light of my engagement.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland looked at him with a glance which was partly an interrogation, but + partly, also, an admission. + </p> + <p> + “If she ‘s the coquette you say,” Roderick added, “you have given her a + reason the more.” + </p> + <p> + “And that ‘s the girl you propose to devote yourself to?” cried Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t say it, mind! I only say that she ‘s the most interesting + creature in the world! The next time you mean to render me a service, pray + give me notice beforehand!” + </p> + <p> + It was perfectly characteristic of Roderick that, a fortnight later, he + should have let his friend know that he depended upon him for society at + Frascati, as freely as if no irritating topic had ever been discussed + between them. Rowland thought him generous, and he had at any rate a + liberal faculty of forgetting that he had given you any reason to be + displeased with him. It was equally characteristic of Rowland that he + complied with his friend’s summons without a moment’s hesitation. His + cousin Cecilia had once told him that he was the dupe of his intense + benevolence. She put the case with too little favor, or too much, as the + reader chooses; it is certain, at least, that he had a constitutional + tendency towards magnanimous interpretations. Nothing happened, however, + to suggest to him that he was deluded in thinking that Roderick’s + secondary impulses were wiser than his primary ones, and that the rounded + total of his nature had a harmony perfectly attuned to the most amiable of + its brilliant parts. Roderick’s humor, for the time, was pitched in a + minor key; he was lazy, listless, and melancholy, but he had never been + more friendly and kindly and appealingly submissive. Winter had begun, by + the calendar, but the weather was divinely mild, and the two young men + took long slow strolls on the hills and lounged away the mornings in the + villas. The villas at Frascati are delicious places, and replete with + romantic suggestiveness. Roderick, as he had said, was meditating, and if + a masterpiece was to come of his meditations, Rowland was perfectly + willing to bear him company and coax along the process. But Roderick let + him know from the first that he was in a miserably sterile mood, and, + cudgel his brains as he would, could think of nothing that would serve for + the statue he was to make for Mr. Leavenworth. + </p> + <p> + “It is worse out here than in Rome,” he said, “for here I am face to face + with the dead blank of my mind! There I could n’t think of anything + either, but there I found things to make me forget that I needed to.” This + was as frank an allusion to Christina Light as could have been expected + under the circumstances; it seemed, indeed, to Rowland surprisingly frank, + and a pregnant example of his companion’s often strangely irresponsible + way of looking at harmful facts. Roderick was silent sometimes for hours, + with a puzzled look on his face and a constant fold between his even + eyebrows; at other times he talked unceasingly, with a slow, idle, + half-nonsensical drawl. Rowland was half a dozen times on the point of + asking him what was the matter with him; he was afraid he was going to be + ill. Roderick had taken a great fancy to the Villa Mondragone, and used to + declaim fantastic compliments to it as they strolled in the winter + sunshine on the great terrace which looks toward Tivoli and the iridescent + Sabine mountains. He carried his volume of Ariosto in his pocket, and took + it out every now and then and spouted half a dozen stanzas to his + companion. He was, as a general thing, very little of a reader; but at + intervals he would take a fancy to one of the classics and peruse it for a + month in disjointed scraps. He had picked up Italian without study, and + had a wonderfully sympathetic accent, though in reading aloud he ruined + the sense of half the lines he rolled off so sonorously. Rowland, who + pronounced badly but understood everything, once said to him that Ariosto + was not the poet for a man of his craft; a sculptor should make a + companion of Dante. So he lent him the Inferno, which he had brought with + him, and advised him to look into it. Roderick took it with some + eagerness; perhaps it would brighten his wits. He returned it the next day + with disgust; he had found it intolerably depressing. + </p> + <p> + “A sculptor should model as Dante writes—you ‘re right there,” he + said. “But when his genius is in eclipse, Dante is a dreadfully smoky + lamp. By what perversity of fate,” he went on, “has it come about that I + am a sculptor at all? A sculptor is such a confoundedly special genius; + there are so few subjects he can treat, so few things in life that bear + upon his work, so few moods in which he himself is inclined to it.” (It + may be noted that Rowland had heard him a dozen times affirm the flat + reverse of all this.) “If I had only been a painter—a little quiet, + docile, matter-of-fact painter, like our friend Singleton—I should + only have to open my Ariosto here to find a subject, to find color and + attitudes, stuffs and composition; I should only have to look up from the + page at that mouldy old fountain against the blue sky, at that cypress + alley wandering away like a procession of priests in couples, at the crags + and hollows of the Sabine hills, to find myself grasping my brush. Best of + all would be to be Ariosto himself, or one of his brotherhood. Then + everything in nature would give you a hint, and every form of beauty be + part of your stock. You would n’t have to look at things only to say,—with + tears of rage half the time,—‘Oh, yes, it ‘s wonderfully pretty, but + what the deuce can I do with it?’ But a sculptor, now! That ‘s a pretty + trade for a fellow who has got his living to make and yet is so damnably + constituted that he can’t work to order, and considers that, + aesthetically, clock ornaments don’t pay! You can’t model the serge-coated + cypresses, nor those mouldering old Tritons and all the sunny sadness of + that dried-up fountain; you can’t put the light into marble—the + lovely, caressing, consenting Italian light that you get so much of for + nothing. Say that a dozen times in his life a man has a complete + sculpturesque vision—a vision in which the imagination recognizes a + subject and the subject kindles the imagination. It is a remunerative rate + of work, and the intervals are comfortable!” + </p> + <p> + One morning, as the two young men were lounging on the sun-warmed grass at + the foot of one of the slanting pines of the Villa Mondragone, Roderick + delivered himself of a tissue of lugubrious speculations as to the + possible mischances of one’s genius. “What if the watch should run down,” + he asked, “and you should lose the key? What if you should wake up some + morning and find it stopped, inexorably, appallingly stopped? Such things + have been, and the poor devils to whom they happened have had to grin and + bear it. The whole matter of genius is a mystery. It bloweth where it + listeth and we know nothing of its mechanism. If it gets out of order we + can’t mend it; if it breaks down altogether we can’t set it going again. + We must let it choose its own pace, and hold our breath lest it should + lose its balance. It ‘s dealt out in different doses, in big cups and + little, and when you have consumed your portion it ‘s as naif to ask for + more as it was for Oliver Twist to ask for more porridge. Lucky for you if + you ‘ve got one of the big cups; we drink them down in the dark, and we + can’t tell their size until we tip them up and hear the last gurgle. Those + of some men last for life; those of others for a couple of years. Nay, + what are you smiling at so damnably?” he went on. “Nothing is more common + than for an artist who has set out on his journey on a high-stepping horse + to find himself all of a sudden dismounted and invited to go his way on + foot. You can number them by the thousand—the people of two or three + successes; the poor fellows whose candle burnt out in a night. Some of + them groped their way along without it, some of them gave themselves up + for blind and sat down by the wayside to beg. Who shall say that I ‘m not + one of these? Who shall assure me that my credit is for an unlimited sum? + Nothing proves it, and I never claimed it; or if I did, I did so in the + mere boyish joy of shaking off the dust of Northampton. If you believed + so, my dear fellow, you did so at your own risk! What am I, what are the + best of us, but an experiment? Do I succeed—do I fail? It does n’t + depend on me. I ‘m prepared for failure. It won’t be a disappointment, + simply because I shan’t survive it. The end of my work shall be the end of + my life. When I have played my last card, I shall cease to care for the + game. I ‘m not making vulgar threats of suicide; for destiny, I trust, + won’t add insult to injury by putting me to that abominable trouble. But I + have a conviction that if the hour strikes here,” and he tapped his + forehead, “I shall disappear, dissolve, be carried off in a cloud! For the + past ten days I have had the vision of some such fate perpetually swimming + before my eyes. My mind is like a dead calm in the tropics, and my + imagination as motionless as the phantom ship in the Ancient Mariner!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland listened to this outbreak, as he often had occasion to listen to + Roderick’s heated monologues, with a number of mental restrictions. Both + in gravity and in gayety he said more than he meant, and you did him + simple justice if you privately concluded that neither the glow of purpose + nor the chill of despair was of so intense a character as his florid + diction implied. The moods of an artist, his exaltations and depressions, + Rowland had often said to himself, were like the pen-flourishes a + writing-master makes in the air when he begins to set his copy. He may + bespatter you with ink, he may hit you in the eye, but he writes a + magnificent hand. It was nevertheless true that at present poor Roderick + gave unprecedented tokens of moral stagnation, and as for genius being + held by the precarious tenure he had sketched, Rowland was at a loss to + see whence he could borrow the authority to contradict him. He sighed to + himself, and wished that his companion had a trifle more of little Sam + Singleton’s evenness of impulse. But then, was Singleton a man of genius? + He answered that such reflections seemed to him unprofitable, not to say + morbid; that the proof of the pudding was in the eating; that he did n’t + know about bringing a genius that had palpably spent its last breath back + to life again, but that he was satisfied that vigorous effort was a cure + for a great many ills that seemed far gone. “Don’t heed your mood,” he + said, “and don’t believe there is any calm so dead that your own lungs + can’t ruffle it with a breeze. If you have work to do, don’t wait to feel + like it; set to work and you will feel like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Set to work and produce abortions!” cried Roderick with ire. “Preach that + to others. Production with me must be either pleasure or nothing. As I + said just now, I must either stay in the saddle or not go at all. I won’t + do second-rate work; I can’t if I would. I have no cleverness, apart from + inspiration. I am not a Gloriani! You are right,” he added after a while; + “this is unprofitable talk, and it makes my head ache. I shall take a nap + and see if I can dream of a bright idea or two.” + </p> + <p> + He turned his face upward to the parasol of the great pine, closed his + eyes, and in a short time forgot his sombre fancies. January though it + was, the mild stillness seemed to vibrate with faint midsummer sounds. + Rowland sat listening to them and wishing that, for the sake of his own + felicity, Roderick’s temper were graced with a certain absent ductility. + He was brilliant, but was he, like many brilliant things, brittle? + Suddenly, to his musing sense, the soft atmospheric hum was overscored + with distincter sounds. He heard voices beyond a mass of shrubbery, at the + turn of a neighboring path. In a moment one of them began to seem + familiar, and an instant later a large white poodle emerged into view. He + was slowly followed by his mistress. Miss Light paused a moment on seeing + Rowland and his companion; but, though the former perceived that he was + recognized, she made no bow. Presently she walked directly toward him. He + rose and was on the point of waking Roderick, but she laid her finger on + her lips and motioned him to forbear. She stood a moment looking at + Roderick’s handsome slumber. + </p> + <p> + “What delicious oblivion!” she said. “Happy man! Stenterello”—and + she pointed to his face—“wake him up!” + </p> + <p> + The poodle extended a long pink tongue and began to lick Roderick’s cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” asked Rowland, “if he is happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I want companions in misery! Besides, I want to show off my dog.” + Roderick roused himself, sat up, and stared. By this time Mrs. Light had + approached, walking with a gentleman on each side of her. One of these was + the Cavaliere Giacosa; the other was Prince Casamassima. “I should have + liked to lie down on the grass and go to sleep,” Christina added. “But it + would have been unheard of.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not quite,” said the Prince, in English, with a tone of great + precision. “There was already a Sleeping Beauty in the Wood!” + </p> + <p> + “Charming!” cried Mrs. Light. “Do you hear that, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “When the prince says a brilliant thing, it would be a pity to lose it,” + said the young girl. “Your servant, sir!” And she smiled at him with a + grace that might have reassured him, if he had thought her compliment + ambiguous. + </p> + <p> + Roderick meanwhile had risen to his feet, and Mrs. Light began to exclaim + on the oddity of their meeting and to explain that the day was so lovely + that she had been charmed with the idea of spending it in the country. And + who would ever have thought of finding Mr. Mallet and Mr. Hudson sleeping + under a tree! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I beg your pardon; I was not sleeping,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know that Mr. Mallet is Mr. Hudson’s sheep-dog?” asked + Christina. “He was mounting guard to keep away the wolves.” + </p> + <p> + “To indifferent purpose, madame!” said Rowland, indicating the young girl. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the way you spend your time?” Christina demanded of Roderick. “I + never yet happened to learn what men were doing when they supposed women + were not watching them but it was something vastly below their + reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “When, pray,” said Roderick, smoothing his ruffled locks, “are women not + watching them?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall give you something better to do, at any rate. How long have you + been here? It ‘s an age since I have seen you. We consider you domiciled + here, and expect you to play host and entertain us.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick said that he could offer them nothing but to show them the great + terrace, with its view; and ten minutes later the group was assembled + there. Mrs. Light was extravagant in her satisfaction; Christina looked + away at the Sabine mountains, in silence. The prince stood by, frowning at + the rapture of the elder lady. + </p> + <p> + “This is nothing,” he said at last. “My word of honor. Have you seen the + terrace at San Gaetano?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that terrace,” murmured Mrs. Light, amorously. “I suppose it is + magnificent!” + </p> + <p> + “It is four hundred feet long, and paved with marble. And the view is a + thousand times more beautiful than this. You see, far away, the blue, blue + sea and the little smoke of Vesuvio!” + </p> + <p> + “Christina, love,” cried Mrs. Light forthwith, “the prince has a terrace + four hundred feet long, all paved with marble!” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere gave a little cough and began to wipe his eye-glass. + </p> + <p> + “Stupendous!” said Christina. “To go from one end to the other, the prince + must have out his golden carriage.” This was apparently an allusion to one + of the other items of the young man’s grandeur. + </p> + <p> + “You always laugh at me,” said the prince. “I know no more what to say!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a sad smile and shook her head. “No, no, dear + prince, I don’t laugh at you. Heaven forbid! You are much too serious an + affair. I assure you I feel your importance. What did you inform us was + the value of the hereditary diamonds of the Princess Casamassima?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are laughing at me yet!” said the poor young man, standing rigid + and pale. + </p> + <p> + “It does n’t matter,” Christina went on. “We have a note of it; mamma + writes all those things down in a little book!” + </p> + <p> + “If you are laughed at, dear prince, at least it ‘s in company,” said Mrs. + Light, caressingly; and she took his arm, as if to resist his possible + displacement under the shock of her daughter’s sarcasm. But the prince + looked heavy-eyed toward Rowland and Roderick, to whom the young girl was + turning, as if he had much rather his lot were cast with theirs. + </p> + <p> + “Is the villa inhabited?” Christina asked, pointing to the vast melancholy + structure which rises above the terrace. + </p> + <p> + “Not privately,” said Roderick. “It is occupied by a Jesuits’ college, for + little boys.” + </p> + <p> + “Can women go in?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid not.” And Roderick began to laugh. “Fancy the poor little + devils looking up from their Latin declensions and seeing Miss Light + standing there!” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see the poor little devils, with their rosy cheeks and + their long black gowns, and when they were pretty, I should n’t scruple to + kiss them. But if I can’t have that amusement I must have some other. We + must not stand planted on this enchanting terrace as if we were stakes + driven into the earth. We must dance, we must feast, we must do something + picturesque. Mamma has arranged, I believe, that we are to go back to + Frascati to lunch at the inn. I decree that we lunch here and send the + Cavaliere to the inn to get the provisions! He can take the carriage, + which is waiting below.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Light carried out this undertaking with unfaltering ardor. The + Cavaliere was summoned, and he stook to receive her commands hat in hand, + with his eyes cast down, as if she had been a princess addressing her + major-domo. She, however, laid her hand with friendly grace upon his + button-hole, and called him a dear, good old Cavaliere, for being always + so willing. Her spirits had risen with the occasion, and she talked + irresistible nonsense. “Bring the best they have,” she said, “no matter if + it ruins us! And if the best is very bad, it will be all the more amusing. + I shall enjoy seeing Mr. Mallet try to swallow it for propriety’s sake! + Mr. Hudson will say out like a man that it ‘s horrible stuff, and that he + ‘ll be choked first! Be sure you bring a dish of maccaroni; the prince + must have the diet of the Neapolitan nobility. But I leave all that to + you, my poor, dear Cavaliere; you know what ‘s good! Only be sure, above + all, you bring a guitar. Mr. Mallet will play us a tune, I ‘ll dance with + Mr. Hudson, and mamma will pair off with the prince, of whom she is so + fond!” + </p> + <p> + And as she concluded her recommendations, she patted her bland old + servitor caressingly on the shoulder. He looked askance at Rowland; his + little black eye glittered; it seemed to say, “Did n’t I tell you she was + a good girl!” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere returned with zealous speed, accompanied by one of the + servants of the inn, laden with a basket containing the materials of a + rustic luncheon. The porter of the villa was easily induced to furnish a + table and half a dozen chairs, and the repast, when set forth, was + pronounced a perfect success; not so good as to fail of the proper + picturesqueness, nor yet so bad as to defeat the proper function of + repasts. Christina continued to display the most charming animation, and + compelled Rowland to reflect privately that, think what one might of her, + the harmonious gayety of a beautiful girl was the most beautiful sight in + nature. Her good-humor was contagious. Roderick, who an hour before had + been descanting on madness and suicide, commingled his laughter with hers + in ardent devotion; Prince Casamassima stroked his young moustache and + found a fine, cool smile for everything; his neighbor, Mrs. Light, who had + Rowland on the other side, made the friendliest confidences to each of the + young men, and the Cavaliere contributed to the general hilarity by the + solemnity of his attention to his plate. As for Rowland, the spirit of + kindly mirth prompted him to propose the health of this useful old + gentleman, as the effective author of their pleasure. A moment later he + wished he had held his tongue, for although the toast was drunk with + demonstrative good-will, the Cavaliere received it with various small + signs of eager self-effacement which suggested to Rowland that his + diminished gentility but half relished honors which had a flavor of + patronage. To perform punctiliously his mysterious duties toward the two + ladies, and to elude or to baffle observation on his own merits—this + seemed the Cavaliere’s modest programme. Rowland perceived that Mrs. + Light, who was not always remarkable for tact, seemed to have divined his + humor on this point. She touched her glass to her lips, but offered him no + compliment and immediately gave another direction to the conversation. He + had brought no guitar, so that when the feast was over there was nothing + to hold the little group together. Christina wandered away with Roderick + to another part of the terrace; the prince, whose smile had vanished, sat + gnawing the head of his cane, near Mrs. Light, and Rowland strolled apart + with the Cavaliere, to whom he wished to address a friendly word in + compensation for the discomfort he had inflicted on his modesty. The + Cavaliere was a mine of information upon all Roman places and people; he + told Rowland a number of curious anecdotes about the old Villa Mondragone. + “If history could always be taught in this fashion!” thought Rowland. “It + ‘s the ideal—strolling up and down on the very spot commemorated, + hearing sympathetic anecdotes from deeply indigenous lips.” At last, as + they passed, Rowland observed the mournful physiognomy of Prince + Casamassima, and, glancing toward the other end of the terrace, saw that + Roderick and Christina had disappeared from view. The young man was + sitting upright, in an attitude, apparently habitual, of ceremonious + rigidity; but his lower jaw had fallen and was propped up with his cane, + and his dull dark eye was fixed upon the angle of the villa which had just + eclipsed Miss Light and her companion. His features were grotesque and his + expression vacuous; but there was a lurking delicacy in his face which + seemed to tell you that nature had been making Casamassimas for a great + many centuries, and, though she adapted her mould to circumstances, had + learned to mix her material to an extraordinary fineness and to perform + the whole operation with extreme smoothness. The prince was stupid, + Rowland suspected, but he imagined he was amiable, and he saw that at any + rate he had the great quality of regarding himself in a thoroughly serious + light. Rowland touched his companion’s arm and pointed to the melancholy + nobleman. + </p> + <p> + “Why in the world does he not go after her and insist on being noticed!” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he ‘s very proud!” said the Cavaliere. + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s all very well, but a gentleman who cultivates a passion for that + young lady must be prepared to make sacrifices.” + </p> + <p> + “He thinks he has already made a great many. He comes of a very great + family—a race of princes who for six hundred years have married none + but the daughters of princes. But he is seriously in love, and he would + marry her to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “And she will not have him?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, she is very proud, too!” The Cavaliere was silent a moment, as if he + were measuring the propriety of frankness. He seemed to have formed a high + opinion of Rowland’s discretion, for he presently continued: “It would be + a great match, for she brings him neither a name nor a fortune—nothing + but her beauty. But the signorina will receive no favors; I know her well! + She would rather have her beauty blasted than seem to care about the + marriage, and if she ever accepts the prince it will be only after he has + implored her on his knees!” + </p> + <p> + “But she does care about it,” said Rowland, “and to bring him to his knees + she is working upon his jealousy by pretending to be interested in my + friend Hudson. If you said more, you would say that, eh?” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere’s shrewdness exchanged a glance with Rowland’s. “By no + means. Miss Light is a singular girl; she has many romantic ideas. She + would be quite capable of interesting herself seriously in an interesting + young man, like your friend, and doing her utmost to discourage a splendid + suitor, like the prince. She would act sincerely and she would go very + far. But it would be unfortunate for the young man,” he added, after a + pause, “for at the last she would retreat!” + </p> + <p> + “A singular girl, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “She would accept the more brilliant parti. I can answer for it.” + </p> + <p> + “And what would be her motive?” + </p> + <p> + “She would be forced. There would be circumstances.... I can’t tell you + more.” + </p> + <p> + “But this implies that the rejected suitor would also come back. He might + grow tired of waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, this one is good! Look at him now.” Rowland looked, and saw that the + prince had left his place by Mrs. Light and was marching restlessly to and + fro between the villa and the parapet of the terrace. Every now and then + he looked at his watch. “In this country, you know,” said the Cavaliere, + “a young lady never goes walking alone with a handsome young man. It seems + to him very strange.” + </p> + <p> + “It must seem to him monstrous, and if he overlooks it he must be very + much in love.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he will overlook it. He is far gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is this exemplary lover, then; what is he?” + </p> + <p> + “A Neapolitan; one of the oldest houses in Italy. He is a prince in your + English sense of the word, for he has a princely fortune. He is very + young; he is only just of age; he saw the signorina last winter in Naples. + He fell in love with her from the first, but his family interfered, and an + old uncle, an ecclesiastic, Monsignor B——, hurried up to + Naples, seized him, and locked him up. Meantime he has passed his + majority, and he can dispose of himself. His relations are moving heaven + and earth to prevent his marrying Miss Light, and they have sent us word + that he forfeits his property if he takes his wife out of a certain line. + I have investigated the question minutely, and I find this is but a + fiction to frighten us. He is perfectly free; but the estates are such + that it is no wonder they wish to keep them in their own hands. For Italy, + it is an extraordinary case of unincumbered property. The prince has been + an orphan from his third year; he has therefore had a long minority and + made no inroads upon his fortune. Besides, he is very prudent and orderly; + I am only afraid that some day he will pull the purse-strings too tight. + All these years his affairs have been in the hands of Monsignor B——, + who has managed them to perfection—paid off mortagages, planted + forests, opened up mines. It is now a magnificent fortune; such a fortune + as, with his name, would justify the young man in pretending to any + alliance whatsoever. And he lays it all at the feet of that young girl who + is wandering in yonder boschetto with a penniless artist.” + </p> + <p> + “He is certainly a phoenix of princes! The signora must be in a state of + bliss.” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere looked imperturbably grave. “The signora has a high esteem + for his character.” + </p> + <p> + “His character, by the way,” rejoined Rowland, with a smile; “what sort of + a character is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh, Prince Casamassima is a veritable prince! He is a very good young + man. He is not brilliant, nor witty, but he ‘ll not let himself be made a + fool of. He ‘s very grave and very devout—though he does propose to + marry a Protestant. He will handle that point after marriage. He ‘s as you + see him there: a young man without many ideas, but with a very firm grasp + of a single one—the conviction that Prince Casamassima is a very + great person, that he greatly honors any young lady by asking for her + hand, and that things are going very strangely when the young lady turns + her back upon him. The poor young man, I am sure, is profoundly perplexed. + But I whisper to him every day, ‘Pazienza, Signor Principe!’” + </p> + <p> + “So you firmly believe,” said Rowland, in conclusion, “that Miss Light + will accept him just in time not to lose him!” + </p> + <p> + “I count upon it. She would make too perfect a princess to miss her + destiny.” + </p> + <p> + “And you hold that nevertheless, in the mean while, in listening to, say, + my friend Hudson, she will have been acting in good faith?” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere lifted his shoulders a trifle, and gave an inscrutable + smile. “Eh, dear signore, the Christina is very romantic!” + </p> + <p> + “So much so, you intimate, that she will eventually retract, in + consequence not of a change of sentiment, but of a mysterious outward + pressure?” + </p> + <p> + “If everything else fails, there is that resource. But it is mysterious, + as you say, and you need n’t try to guess it. You will never know.” + </p> + <p> + “The poor signorina, then, will suffer!” + </p> + <p> + “Not too much, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “And the poor young man! You maintain that there is nothing but + disappointment in store for the infatuated youth who loses his heart to + her!” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere hesitated. “He had better,” he said in a moment, “go and + pursue his studies in Florence. There are very fine antiques in the + Uffizi!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland presently joined Mrs. Light, to whom her restless protege had not + yet returned. “That ‘s right,” she said; “sit down here; I have something + serious to say to you. I am going to talk to you as a friend. I want your + assistance. In fact, I demand it; it ‘s your duty to render it. Look at + that unhappy young man.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Rowland, “he seems unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “He is just come of age, he bears one of the greatest names in Italy and + owns one of the greatest properties, and he is pining away with love for + my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “So the Cavaliere tells me.” + </p> + <p> + “The Cavaliere should n’t gossip,” said Mrs. Light dryly. “Such + information should come from me. The prince is pining, as I say; he ‘s + consumed, he ‘s devoured. It ‘s a real Italian passion; I know what that + means!” And the lady gave a speaking glance, which seemed to coquet for a + moment with retrospect. “Meanwhile, if you please, my daughter is hiding + in the woods with your dear friend Mr. Hudson. I could cry with rage.” + </p> + <p> + “If things are so bad as that,” said Rowland, “it seems to me that you + ought to find nothing easier than to dispatch the Cavaliere to bring the + guilty couple back.” + </p> + <p> + “Never in the world! My hands are tied. Do you know what Christina would + do? She would tell the Cavaliere to go about his business—Heaven + forgive her!—and send me word that, if she had a mind to, she would + walk in the woods till midnight. Fancy the Cavaliere coming back and + delivering such a message as that before the prince! Think of a girl + wantonly making light of such a chance as hers! He would marry her + to-morrow, at six o’clock in the morning!” + </p> + <p> + “It is certainly very sad,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “That costs you little to say. If you had left your precious young meddler + to vegetate in his native village you would have saved me a world of + distress!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, you marched into the jaws of danger,” said Rowland. “You came and + disinterred poor Hudson in his own secluded studio.” + </p> + <p> + “In an evil hour! I wish to Heaven you would talk with him.” + </p> + <p> + “I have done my best.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish, then, you would take him away. You have plenty of money. Do me a + favor. Take him to travel. Go to the East—go to Timbuctoo. Then, + when Christina is Princess Casamassima,” Mrs. Light added in a moment, “he + may come back if he chooses.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she really care for him?” Rowland asked, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “She thinks she does, possibly. She is a living riddle. She must needs + follow out every idea that comes into her head. Fortunately, most of them + don’t last long; but this one may last long enough to give the prince a + chill. If that were to happen, I don’t know what I should do! I should be + the most miserable of women. It would be too cruel, after all I ‘ve + suffered to make her what she is, to see the labor of years blighted by a + caprice. For I can assure you, sir,” Mrs. Light went on, “that if my + daughter is the greatest beauty in the world, some of the credit is mine.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland promptly remarked that this was obvious. He saw that the lady’s + irritated nerves demanded comfort from flattering reminiscence, and he + assumed designedly the attitude of a zealous auditor. She began to retail + her efforts, her hopes, her dreams, her presentiments, her + disappointments, in the cause of her daughter’s matrimonial fortunes. It + was a long story, and while it was being unfolded, the prince continued to + pass to and fro, stiffly and solemnly, like a pendulum marking the time + allowed for the young lady to come to her senses. Mrs. Light evidently, at + an early period, had gathered her maternal hopes into a sacred sheaf, + which she said her prayers and burnt incense to, and treated like a sort + of fetish. They had been her religion; she had none other, and she + performed her devotions bravely and cheerily, in the light of day. The + poor old fetish had been so caressed and manipulated, so thrust in and out + of its niche, so passed from hand to hand, so dressed and undressed, so + mumbled and fumbled over, that it had lost by this time much of its early + freshness, and seemed a rather battered and disfeatured divinity. But it + was still brought forth in moments of trouble to have its tinseled + petticoat twisted about and be set up on its altar. Rowland observed that + Mrs. Light had a genuine maternal conscience; she considered that she had + been performing a sacred duty in bringing up Christina to set her cap for + a prince, and when the future looked dark, she found consolation in + thinking that destiny could never have the heart to deal a blow at so + deserving a person. This conscience upside down presented to Rowland’s + fancy a real physical image; he was on the point, half a dozen times, of + bursting out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know whether you believe in presentiments,” said Mrs. Light, “and + I don’t care! I have had one for the last fifteen years. People have + laughed at it, but they have n’t laughed me out of it. It has been + everything to me. I could n’t have lived without it. One must believe in + something! It came to me in a flash, when Christina was five years old. I + remember the day and the place, as if it were yesterday. She was a very + ugly baby; for the first two years I could hardly bear to look at her, and + I used to spoil my own looks with crying about her. She had an Italian + nurse who was very fond of her and insisted that she would grow up pretty. + I could n’t believe her; I used to contradict her, and we were forever + squabbling. I was just a little silly in those days—surely I may say + it now—and I was very fond of being amused. If my daughter was ugly, + it was not that she resembled her mamma; I had no lack of amusement. + People accused me, I believe, of neglecting my little girl; if it was so, + I ‘ve made up for it since. One day I went to drive on the Pincio in very + low spirits. A trusted friend had greatly disappointed me. While I was + there he passed me in a carriage, driving with a horrible woman who had + made trouble between us. I got out of my carriage to walk about, and at + last sat down on a bench. I can show you the spot at this hour. While I + sat there a child came wandering along the path—a little girl of + four or five, very fantastically dressed in crimson and orange. She + stopped in front of me and stared at me, and I stared at her queer little + dress, which was a cheap imitation of the costume of one of these + contadine. At last I looked up at her face, and said to myself, ‘Bless me, + what a beautiful child! what a splendid pair of eyes, what a magnificent + head of hair! If my poor Christina were only like that!’ The child turned + away slowly, but looking back with its eyes fixed on me. All of a sudden I + gave a cry, pounced on it, pressed it in my arms, and covered it with + kisses. It was Christina, my own precious child, so disguised by the + ridiculous dress which the nurse had amused herself in making for her, + that her own mother had not recognized her. She knew me, but she said + afterwards that she had not spoken to me because I looked so angry. Of + course my face was sad. I rushed with my child to the carriage, drove home + post-haste, pulled off her rags, and, as I may say, wrapped her in cotton. + I had been blind, I had been insane; she was a creature in ten millions, + she was to be a beauty of beauties, a priceless treasure! Every day, after + that, the certainty grew. From that time I lived only for my daughter. I + watched her, I caressed her from morning till night, I worshipped her. I + went to see doctors about her, I took every sort of advice. I was + determined she should be perfection. The things that have been done for + that girl, sir—you would n’t believe them; they would make you + smile! Nothing was spared; if I had been told that she must have a bath + every morning of molten pearls, I would have found means to give it to + her. She never raised a finger for herself, she breathed nothing but + perfumes, she walked upon velvet. She never was out of my sight, and from + that day to this I have never said a sharp word to her. By the time she + was ten years old she was beautiful as an angel, and so noticed wherever + we went that I had to make her wear a veil, like a woman of twenty. Her + hair reached down to her feet; her hands were the hands of a princess. + Then I saw that she was as clever as she was beautiful, and that she had + only to play her cards. She had masters, professors, every educational + advantage. They told me she was a little prodigy. She speaks French, + Italian, German, better than most natives. She has a wonderful genius for + music, and might make her fortune as a pianist, if it was not made for her + otherwise! I traveled all over Europe; every one told me she was a marvel. + The director of the opera in Paris saw her dance at a child’s party at + Spa, and offered me an enormous sum if I would give her up to him and let + him have her educated for the ballet. I said, ‘No, I thank you, sir; she + is meant to be something finer than a princesse de theatre.’ I had a + passionate belief that she might marry absolutely whom she chose, that she + might be a princess out and out. It has never left me till this hour, and + I can assure you that it has sustained me in many embarrassments. + Financial, some of them; I don’t mind confessing it! I have raised money + on that girl’s face! I ‘ve taken her to the Jews and bade her put up her + veil, and asked if the mother of that young lady was not safe! She, of + course, was too young to understand me. And yet, as a child, you would + have said she knew what was in store for her; before she could read, she + had the manners, the tastes, the instincts of a little princess. She would + have nothing to do with shabby things or shabby people; if she stained one + of her frocks, she was seized with a kind of frenzy and tore it to pieces. + At Nice, at Baden, at Brighton, wherever we stayed, she used to be sent + for by all the great people to play with their children. She has played at + kissing-games with people who now stand on the steps of thrones! I have + gone so far as to think at times that those childish kisses were a sign—a + symbol—a portent. You may laugh at me if you like, but have n’t such + things happened again and again without half as good a cause, and does n’t + history notoriously repeat itself? There was a little Spanish girl at a + second-rate English boarding-school thirty years ago!... The Empress + certainly is a pretty woman; but what is my Christina, pray? I ‘ve dreamt + of it, sometimes every night for a month. I won’t tell you I have been to + consult those old women who advertise in the newspapers; you ‘ll call me + an old imbecile. Imbecile if you please! I have refused magnificent offers + because I believed that somehow or other—if wars and revolutions + were needed to bring it about—we should have nothing less than that. + There might be another coup d’etat somewhere, and another brilliant young + sovereign looking out for a wife! At last, however,” Mrs. Light proceeded + with incomparable gravity, “since the overturning of the poor king of + Naples and that charming queen, and the expulsion of all those dear little + old-fashioned Italian grand-dukes, and the dreadful radical talk that is + going on all over the world, it has come to seem to me that with Christina + in such a position I should be really very nervous. Even in such a + position she would hold her head very high, and if anything should happen + to her, she would make no concessions to the popular fury. The best thing, + if one is prudent, seems to be a nobleman of the highest possible rank, + short of belonging to a reigning stock. There you see one striding up and + down, looking at his watch, and counting the minutes till my daughter + reappears!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland listened to all this with a huge compassion for the heroine of the + tale. What an education, what a history, what a school of character and of + morals! He looked at the prince and wondered whether he too had heard Mrs. + Light’s story. If he had he was a brave man. “I certainly hope you ‘ll + keep him,” he said to Mrs. Light. “You have played a dangerous game with + your daughter; it would be a pity not to win. But there is hope for you + yet; here she comes at last!” + </p> + <p> + Christina reappeared as he spoke these words, strolling beside her + companion with the same indifferent tread with which she had departed. + Rowland imagined that there was a faint pink flush in her cheek which she + had not carried away with her, and there was certainly a light in + Roderick’s eyes which he had not seen there for a week. + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul, how they are all looking at us!” she cried, as they + advanced. “One would think we were prisoners of the Inquisition!” And she + paused and glanced from the prince to her mother, and from Rowland to the + Cavaliere, and then threw back her head and burst into far-ringing + laughter. “What is it, pray? Have I been very improper? Am I ruined + forever? Dear prince, you are looking at me as if I had committed the + unpardonable sin!” + </p> + <p> + “I myself,” said the prince, “would never have ventured to ask you to walk + with me alone in the country for an hour!” + </p> + <p> + “The more fool you, dear prince, as the vulgar say! Our walk has been + charming. I hope you, on your side, have enjoyed each other’s society.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear daughter,” said Mrs. Light, taking the arm of her predestined + son-in-law, “I shall have something serious to say to you when we reach + home. We will go back to the carriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Something serious! Decidedly, it is the Inquisition. Mr. Hudson, stand + firm, and let us agree to make no confessions without conferring + previously with each other! They may put us on the rack first. Mr. Mallet, + I see also,” Christina added, “has something serious to say to me!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland had been looking at her with the shadow of his lately-stirred pity + in his eyes. “Possibly,” he said. “But it must be for some other time.” + </p> + <p> + “I am at your service. I see our good-humor is gone. And I only wanted to + be amiable! It is very discouraging. Cavaliere, you, only, look as if you + had a little of the milk of human kindness left; from your venerable + visage, at least; there is no telling what you think. Give me your arm and + take me away!” + </p> + <p> + The party took its course back to the carriage, which was waiting in the + grounds of the villa, and Rowland and Roderick bade their friends + farewell. Christina threw herself back in her seat and closed her eyes; a + manoeuvre for which Rowland imagined the prince was grateful, as it + enabled him to look at her without seeming to depart from his attitude of + distinguished disapproval. Rowland found himself aroused from sleep early + the next morning, to see Roderick standing before him, dressed for + departure, with his bag in his hand. “I am off,” he said. “I am back to + work. I have an idea. I must strike while the iron ‘s hot! Farewell!” And + he departed by the first train. Rowland went alone by the next. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. Saint Cecilia’s + </h2> + <p> + Rowland went often to the Coliseum; he never wearied of it. One morning, + about a month after his return from Frascati, as he was strolling across + the vast arena, he observed a young woman seated on one of the fragments + of stone which are ranged along the line of the ancient parapet. It seemed + to him that he had seen her before, but he was unable to localize her + face. Passing her again, he perceived that one of the little red-legged + French soldiers at that time on guard there had approached her and was + gallantly making himself agreeable. She smiled brilliantly, and Rowland + recognized the smile (it had always pleased him) of a certain comely + Assunta, who sometimes opened the door for Mrs. Light’s visitors. He + wondered what she was doing alone in the Coliseum, and conjectured that + Assunta had admirers as well as her young mistress, but that, being + without the same domiciliary conveniencies, she was using this massive + heritage of her Latin ancestors as a boudoir. In other words, she had an + appointment with her lover, who had better, from present appearances, be + punctual. It was a long time since Rowland had ascended to the ruinous + upper tiers of the great circus, and, as the day was radiant and the + distant views promised to be particularly clear, he determined to give + himself the pleasure. The custodian unlocked the great wooden wicket, and + he climbed through the winding shafts, where the eager Roman crowds had + billowed and trampled, not pausing till he reached the highest accessible + point of the ruin. The views were as fine as he had supposed; the lights + on the Sabine Mountains had never been more lovely. He gazed to his + satisfaction and retraced his steps. In a moment he paused again on an + abutment somewhat lower, from which the glance dropped dizzily into the + interior. There are chance anfractuosities of ruin in the upper portions + of the Coliseum which offer a very fair imitation of the rugged face of an + Alpine cliff. In those days a multitude of delicate flowers and sprays of + wild herbage had found a friendly soil in the hoary crevices, and they + bloomed and nodded amid the antique masonry as freely as they would have + done in the virgin rock. Rowland was turning away, when he heard a sound + of voices rising up from below. He had but to step slightly forward to + find himself overlooking two persons who had seated themselves on a narrow + ledge, in a sunny corner. They had apparently had an eye to extreme + privacy, but they had not observed that their position was commanded by + Rowland’s stand-point. One of these airy adventurers was a lady, thickly + veiled, so that, even if he had not been standing directly above her, + Rowland could not have seen her face. The other was a young man, whose + face was also invisible, but who, as Rowland stood there, gave a toss of + his clustering locks which was equivalent to the signature—Roderick + Hudson. A moment’s reflection, hereupon, satisfied him of the identity of + the lady. He had been unjust to poor Assunta, sitting patient in the + gloomy arena; she had not come on her own errand. Rowland’s discoveries + made him hesitate. Should he retire as noiselessly as possible, or should + he call out a friendly good morning? While he was debating the question, + he found himself distinctly hearing his friends’ words. They were of such + a nature as to make him unwilling to retreat, and yet to make it awkward + to be discovered in a position where it would be apparent that he had + heard them. + </p> + <p> + “If what you say is true,” said Christina, with her usual soft + deliberateness—it made her words rise with peculiar distinctness to + Rowland’s ear—“you are simply weak. I am sorry! I hoped—I + really believed—you were not.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not weak,” answered Roderick, with vehemence; “I maintain that I + am not weak! I am incomplete, perhaps; but I can’t help that. Weakness is + a man’s own fault!” + </p> + <p> + “Incomplete, then!” said Christina, with a laugh. “It ‘s the same thing, + so long as it keeps you from splendid achievement. Is it written, then, + that I shall really never know what I have so often dreamed of?” + </p> + <p> + “What have you dreamed of?” + </p> + <p> + “A man whom I can perfectly respect!” cried the young girl, with a sudden + flame. “A man, at least, whom I can unrestrictedly admire. I meet one, as + I have met more than one before, whom I fondly believe to be cast in a + larger mould than most of the vile human breed, to be large in character, + great in talent, strong in will! In such a man as that, I say, one’s weary + imagination at last may rest; or it may wander if it will, yet never need + to wander far from the deeps where one’s heart is anchored. When I first + knew you, I gave no sign, but you had struck me. I observed you, as women + observe, and I fancied you had the sacred fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Before heaven, I believe I have!” cried Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but so little! It flickers and trembles and sputters; it goes out, + you tell me, for whole weeks together. From your own account, it ‘s ten to + one that in the long run you ‘re a failure.” + </p> + <p> + “I say those things sometimes myself, but when I hear you say them they + make me feel as if I could work twenty years at a sitting, on purpose to + refute you!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the man who is strong with what I call strength,” Christina replied, + “would neither rise nor fall by anything I could say! I am a poor, weak + woman; I have no strength myself, and I can give no strength. I am a + miserable medley of vanity and folly. I am silly, I am ignorant, I am + affected, I am false. I am the fruit of a horrible education, sown on a + worthless soil. I am all that, and yet I believe I have one merit! I + should know a great character when I saw it, and I should delight in it + with a generosity which would do something toward the remission of my + sins. For a man who should really give me a certain feeling—which I + have never had, but which I should know when it came—I would send + Prince Casamassima and his millions to perdition. I don’t know what you + think of me for saying all this; I suppose we have not climbed up here + under the skies to play propriety. Why have you been at such pains to + assure me, after all, that you are a little man and not a great one, a + weak one and not a strong? I innocently imagined that your eyes declared + you were strong. But your voice condemns you; I always wondered at it; it + ‘s not the voice of a conqueror!” + </p> + <p> + “Give me something to conquer,” cried Roderick, “and when I say that I + thank you from my soul, my voice, whatever you think of it, shall speak + the truth!” + </p> + <p> + Christina for a moment said nothing. Rowland was too interested to think + of moving. “You pretend to such devotion,” she went on, “and yet I am sure + you have never really chosen between me and that person in America.” + </p> + <p> + “Do me the favor not to speak of her,” said Roderick, imploringly. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I say no ill of her, and I think all kinds of good. I am certain + she is a far better girl than I, and far more likely to make you happy.” + </p> + <p> + “This is happiness, this present, palpable moment,” said Roderick; “though + you have such a genius for saying the things that torture me!” + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s greater happiness than you deserve, then! You have never chosen, I + say; you have been afraid to choose. You have never really faced the fact + that you are false, that you have broken your faith. You have never looked + at it and seen that it was hideous, and yet said, ‘No matter, I ‘ll brave + the penalty, I ‘ll bear the shame!’ You have closed your eyes; you have + tried to stifle remembrance, to persuade yourself that you were not + behaving as badly as you seemed to be, and there would be some way, after + all, of compassing bliss and yet escaping trouble. You have faltered and + drifted, you have gone on from accident to accident, and I am sure that at + this present moment you can’t tell what it is you really desire!” + </p> + <p> + Roderick was sitting with his knees drawn up and bent, and his hands + clapsed around his legs. He bent his head and rested his forehead on his + knees. + </p> + <p> + Christina went on with a sort of infernal calmness: “I believe that, + really, you don’t greatly care for your friend in America any more than + you do for me. You are one of the men who care only for themselves and for + what they can make of themselves. That ‘s very well when they can make + something great, and I could interest myself in a man of extraordinary + power who should wish to turn all his passions to account. But if the + power should turn out to be, after all, rather ordinary? Fancy feeling + one’s self ground in the mill of a third-rate talent! If you have doubts + about yourself, I can’t reassure you; I have too many doubts myself, about + everything in this weary world. You have gone up like a rocket, in your + profession, they tell me; are you going to come down like the stick? I + don’t pretend to know; I repeat frankly what I have said before—that + all modern sculpture seems to me weak, and that the only things I care for + are some of the most battered of the antiques of the Vatican. No, no, I + can’t reassure you; and when you tell me—with a confidence in my + discretion of which, certainly, I am duly sensible—that at times you + feel terribly small, why, I can only answer, ‘Ah, then, my poor friend, I + am afraid you are small.’ The language I should like to hear, from a + certain person, would be the language of absolute decision.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick raised his head, but he said nothing; he seemed to be exchanging + a long glance with his companion. The result of it was to make him fling + himself back with an inarticulate murmur. Rowland, admonished by the + silence, was on the point of turning away, but he was arrested by a + gesture of the young girl. She pointed for a moment into the blue air. + Roderick followed the direction of her gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Is that little flower we see outlined against that dark niche,” she + asked, “as intensely blue as it looks through my veil?” She spoke + apparently with the amiable design of directing the conversation into a + less painful channel. + </p> + <p> + Rowland, from where he stood, could see the flower she meant—a + delicate plant of radiant hue, which sprouted from the top of an immense + fragment of wall some twenty feet from Christina’s place. + </p> + <p> + Roderick turned his head and looked at it without answering. At last, + glancing round, “Put up your veil!” he said. Christina complied. “Does it + look as blue now?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what a lovely color!” she murmured, leaning her head on one side. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to have it?” + </p> + <p> + She stared a moment and then broke into a light laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to have it?” he repeated in a ringing voice. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t look as if you would eat me up,” she answered. “It ‘s harmless if I + say yes!” + </p> + <p> + Roderick rose to his feet and stood looking at the little flower. It was + separated from the ledge on which he stood by a rugged surface of vertical + wall, which dropped straight into the dusky vaults behind the arena. + Suddenly he took off his hat and flung it behind him. Christina then + sprang to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “I will bring it you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She seized his arm. “Are you crazy? Do you mean to kill yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not kill myself. Sit down!” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me. Not till you do!” And she grasped his arm with both hands. + </p> + <p> + Roderick shook her off and pointed with a violent gesture to her former + place. “Go there!” he cried fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “You can never, never!” she murmured beseechingly, clasping her hands. “I + implore you!” + </p> + <p> + Roderick turned and looked at her, and then in a voice which Rowland had + never heard him use, a voice almost thunderous, a voice which awakened the + echoes of the mighty ruin, he repeated, “Sit down!” She hesitated a moment + and then she dropped on the ground and buried her face in her hands. + </p> + <p> + Rowland had seen all this, and he saw more. He saw Roderick clasp in his + left arm the jagged corner of the vertical partition along which he + proposed to pursue his crazy journey, stretch out his leg, and feel for a + resting-place for his foot. Rowland had measured with a glance the + possibility of his sustaining himself, and pronounced it absolutely nil. + The wall was garnished with a series of narrow projections, the remains + apparently of a brick cornice supporting the arch of a vault which had + long since collapsed. It was by lodging his toes on these loose brackets + and grasping with his hands at certain mouldering protuberances on a level + with his head, that Roderick intended to proceed. The relics of the + cornice were utterly worthless as a support. Rowland had observed this, + and yet, for a moment, he had hesitated. If the thing were possible, he + felt a sudden admiring glee at the thought of Roderick’s doing it. It + would be finely done, it would be gallant, it would have a sort of + masculine eloquence as an answer to Christina’s sinister persiflage. But + it was not possible! Rowland left his place with a bound, and scrambled + down some neighboring steps, and the next moment a stronger pair of hands + than Christina’s were laid upon Roderick’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + He turned, staring, pale and angry. Christina rose, pale and staring, too, + but beautiful in her wonder and alarm. “My dear Roderick,” said Rowland, + “I am only preventing you from doing a very foolish thing. That ‘s an + exploit for spiders, not for young sculptors of promise.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick wiped his forehead, looked back at the wall, and then closed his + eyes, as if with a spasm, of retarded dizziness. “I won’t resist you,” he + said. “But I have made you obey,” he added, turning to Christina. “Am I + weak now?” + </p> + <p> + She had recovered her composure; she looked straight past him and + addressed Rowland: “Be so good as to show me the way out of this horrible + place!” + </p> + <p> + He helped her back into the corridor; Roderick followed after a short + interval. Of course, as they were descending the steps, came questions for + Rowland to answer, and more or less surprise. Where had he come from? how + happened he to have appeared at just that moment? Rowland answered that he + had been rambling overhead, and that, looking out of an aperture, he had + seen a gentleman preparing to undertake a preposterous gymnastic feat, and + a lady swooning away in consequence. Interference seemed justifiable, and + he had made it as prompt as possible. Roderick was far from hanging his + head, like a man who has been caught in the perpetration of an extravagant + folly; but if he held it more erect than usual Rowland believed that this + was much less because he had made a show of personal daring than because + he had triumphantly proved to Christina that, like a certain person she + had dreamed of, he too could speak the language of decision. Christina + descended to the arena in silence, apparently occupied with her own + thoughts. She betrayed no sense of the privacy of her interview with + Roderick needing an explanation. Rowland had seen stranger things in New + York! The only evidence of her recent agitation was that, on being joined + by her maid, she declared that she was unable to walk home; she must have + a carriage. A fiacre was found resting in the shadow of the Arch of + Constantine, and Rowland suspected that after she had got into it she + disburdened herself, under her veil, of a few natural tears. + </p> + <p> + Rowland had played eavesdropper to so good a purpose that he might justly + have omitted the ceremony of denouncing himself to Roderick. He preferred, + however, to let him know that he had overheard a portion of his talk with + Christina. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it seems to you,” Roderick said, “a proof that I am utterly + infatuated.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Light seemed to me to know very well how far she could go,” Rowland + answered. “She was twisting you round her finger. I don’t think she + exactly meant to defy you; but your crazy pursuit of that flower was a + proof that she could go all lengths in the way of making a fool of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Roderick, meditatively; “she is making a fool of me.” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you expect to come of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing good!” And Roderick put his hands into his pockets and looked as + if he had announced the most colorless fact in the world. + </p> + <p> + “And in the light of your late interview, what do you make of your young + lady?” + </p> + <p> + “If I could tell you that, it would be plain sailing. But she ‘ll not tell + me again I am weak!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you very sure you are not weak?” + </p> + <p> + “I may be, but she shall never know it.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland said no more until they reached the Corso, when he asked his + companion whether he was going to his studio. + </p> + <p> + Roderick started out of a reverie and passed his hands over his eyes. “Oh + no, I can’t settle down to work after such a scene as that. I was not + afraid of breaking my neck then, but I feel all in a tremor now. I will go—I + will go and sit in the sun on the Pincio!” + </p> + <p> + “Promise me this, first,” said Rowland, very solemnly: “that the next time + you meet Miss Light, it shall be on the earth and not in the air.” + </p> + <p> + Since his return from Frascati, Roderick had been working doggedly at the + statue ordered by Mr. Leavenworth. To Rowland’s eye he had made a very + fair beginning, but he had himself insisted, from the first, that he liked + neither his subject nor his patron, and that it was impossible to feel any + warmth of interest in a work which was to be incorporated into the + ponderous personality of Mr. Leavenworth. It was all against the grain; he + wrought without love. Nevertheless after a fashion he wrought, and the + figure grew beneath his hands. Miss Blanchard’s friend was ordering works + of art on every side, and his purveyors were in many cases persons whom + Roderick declared it was infamy to be paired with. There had been grand + tailors, he said, who declined to make you a coat unless you got the hat + you were to wear with it from an artist of their own choosing. It seemed + to him that he had an equal right to exact that his statue should not form + part of the same system of ornament as the “Pearl of Perugia,” a picture + by an American confrere who had, in Mr. Leavenworth’s opinion, a + prodigious eye for color. As a customer, Mr. Leavenworth used to drop into + Roderick’s studio, to see how things were getting on, and give a friendly + hint or so. He would seat himself squarely, plant his gold-topped cane + between his legs, which he held very much apart, rest his large white + hands on the head, and enunciate the principles of spiritual art, as he + hoisted them one by one, as you might say, out of the depths of his moral + consciousness. His benignant and imperturbable pomposity gave Roderick the + sense of suffocating beneath a large fluffy bolster, and the worst of the + matter was that the good gentleman’s placid vanity had an integument whose + toughness no sarcastic shaft could pierce. Roderick admitted that in + thinking over the tribulations of struggling genius, the danger of dying + of over-patronage had never occurred to him. + </p> + <p> + The deterring effect of the episode of the Coliseum was apparently of long + continuance; if Roderick’s nerves had been shaken his hand needed time to + recover its steadiness. He cultivated composure upon principles of his + own; by frequenting entertainments from which he returned at four o’clock + in the morning, and lapsing into habits which might fairly be called + irregular. He had hitherto made few friends among the artistic fraternity; + chiefly because he had taken no trouble about it, and there was in his + demeanor an elastic independence of the favor of his fellow-mortals which + made social advances on his own part peculiarly necessary. Rowland had + told him more than once that he ought to fraternize a trifle more with the + other artists, and he had always answered that he had not the smallest + objection to fraternizing: let them come! But they came on rare occasions, + and Roderick was not punctilious about returning their visits. He declared + there was not one of them whose works gave him the smallest desire to make + acquaintance with the insides of their heads. For Gloriani he professed a + superb contempt, and, having been once to look at his wares, never crossed + his threshold again. The only one of the fraternity for whom by his own + admission he cared a straw was little Singleton; but he expressed his + regard only in a kind of sublime hilarity whenever he encountered this + humble genius, and quite forgot his existence in the intervals. He had + never been to see him, but Singleton edged his way, from time to time, + timidly, into Roderick’s studio, and agreed with characteristic modesty + that brilliant fellows like the sculptor might consent to receive homage, + but could hardly be expected to render it. Roderick never exactly accepted + homage, and apparently did not quite observe whether poor Singleton spoke + in admiration or in blame. Roderick’s taste as to companions was + singularly capricious. There were very good fellows, who were disposed to + cultivate him, who bored him to death; and there were others, in whom even + Rowland’s good-nature was unable to discover a pretext for tolerance, in + whom he appeared to find the highest social qualities. He used to give the + most fantastic reasons for his likes and dislikes. He would declare he + could n’t speak a civil word to a man who brushed his hair in a certain + fashion, and he would explain his unaccountable fancy for an individual of + imperceptible merit by telling you that he had an ancestor who in the + thirteenth century had walled up his wife alive. “I like to talk to a man + whose ancestor has walled up his wife alive,” he would say. “You may not + see the fun of it, and think poor P—— is a very dull fellow. + It ‘s very possible; I don’t ask you to admire him. But, for reasons of my + own, I like to have him about. The old fellow left her for three days with + her face uncovered, and placed a long mirror opposite to her, so that she + could see, as he said, if her gown was a fit!” + </p> + <p> + His relish for an odd flavor in his friends had led him to make the + acquaintance of a number of people outside of Rowland’s well-ordered + circle, and he made no secret of their being very queer fish. He formed an + intimacy, among others, with a crazy fellow who had come to Rome as an + emissary of one of the Central American republics, to drive some + ecclesiastical bargain with the papal government. The Pope had given him + the cold shoulder, but since he had not prospered as a diplomatist, he had + sought compensation as a man of the world, and his great flamboyant + curricle and negro lackeys were for several weeks one of the striking + ornaments of the Pincian. He spoke a queer jargon of Italian, Spanish, + French, and English, humorously relieved with scraps of ecclesiastical + Latin, and to those who inquired of Roderick what he found to interest him + in such a fantastic jackanapes, the latter would reply, looking at his + interlocutor with his lucid blue eyes, that it was worth any sacrifice to + hear him talk nonsense! The two had gone together one night to a ball + given by a lady of some renown in the Spanish colony, and very late, on + his way home, Roderick came up to Rowland’s rooms, in whose windows he had + seen a light. Rowland was going to bed, but Roderick flung himself into an + armchair and chattered for an hour. The friends of the Costa Rican envoy + were as amusing as himself, and in very much the same line. The mistress + of the house had worn a yellow satin dress, and gold heels to her + slippers, and at the close of the entertainment had sent for a pair of + castanets, tucked up her petticoats, and danced a fandango, while the + gentlemen sat cross-legged on the floor. “It was awfully low,” Roderick + said; “all of a sudden I perceived it, and bolted. Nothing of that kind + ever amuses me to the end: before it ‘s half over it bores me to death; it + makes me sick. Hang it, why can’t a poor fellow enjoy things in peace? My + illusions are all broken-winded; they won’t carry me twenty paces! I can’t + laugh and forget; my laugh dies away before it begins. Your friend + Stendhal writes on his book-covers (I never got farther) that he has seen + too early in life la beaute parfaite. I don’t know how early he saw it; I + saw it before I was born—in another state of being! I can’t describe + it positively; I can only say I don’t find it anywhere now. Not at the + bottom of champagne glasses; not, strange as it may seem, in that extra + half-yard or so of shoulder that some women have their ball-dresses cut to + expose. I don’t find it at merry supper-tables, where half a dozen ugly + men with pomatumed heads are rapidly growing uglier still with heat and + wine; not when I come away and walk through these squalid black streets, + and go out into the Forum and see a few old battered stone posts standing + there like gnawed bones stuck into the earth. Everything is mean and dusky + and shabby, and the men and women who make up this so-called brilliant + society are the meanest and shabbiest of all. They have no real + spontaneity; they are all cowards and popinjays. They have no more dignity + than so many grasshoppers. Nothing is good but one!” And he jumped up and + stood looking at one of his statues, which shone vaguely across the room + in the dim lamplight. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, do tell us,” said Rowland, “what to hold on by!” + </p> + <p> + “Those things of mine were tolerably good,” he answered. “But my idea was + better—and that ‘s what I mean!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland said nothing. He was willing to wait for Roderick to complete the + circle of his metamorphoses, but he had no desire to officiate as chorus + to the play. If Roderick chose to fish in troubled waters, he must land + his prizes himself. + </p> + <p> + “You think I ‘m an impudent humbug,” the latter said at last, “coming up + to moralize at this hour of the night. You think I want to throw dust into + your eyes, to put you off the scent. That ‘s your eminently rational view + of the case.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me from taking any view at all,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “You have given me up, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I have merely suspended judgment. I am waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “You have ceased then positively to believe in me?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland made an angry gesture. “Oh, cruel boy! When you have hit your mark + and made people care for you, you should n’t twist your weapon about at + that rate in their vitals. Allow me to say I am sleepy. Good night!” + </p> + <p> + Some days afterward it happened that Rowland, on a long afternoon ramble, + took his way through one of the quiet corners of the Trastevere. He was + particularly fond of this part of Rome, though he could hardly have + expressed the charm he found in it. As you pass away from the dusky, + swarming purlieus of the Ghetto, you emerge into a region of empty, + soundless, grass-grown lanes and alleys, where the shabby houses seem + mouldering away in disuse, and yet your footstep brings figures of + startling Roman type to the doorways. There are few monuments here, but no + part of Rome seemed more historic, in the sense of being weighted with a + crushing past, blighted with the melancholy of things that had had their + day. When the yellow afternoon sunshine slept on the sallow, battered + walls, and lengthened the shadows in the grassy courtyards of small closed + churches, the place acquired a strange fascination. The church of Saint + Cecilia has one of these sunny, waste-looking courts; the edifice seems + abandoned to silence and the charity of chance devotion. Rowland never + passed it without going in, and he was generally the only visitor. He + entered it now, but found that two persons had preceded him. Both were + women. One was at her prayers at one of the side altars; the other was + seated against a column at the upper end of the nave. Rowland walked to + the altar, and paid, in a momentary glance at the clever statue of the + saint in death, in the niche beneath it, the usual tribute to the charm of + polished ingenuity. As he turned away he looked at the person seated and + recognized Christina Light. Seeing that she perceived him, he advanced to + speak to her. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting in a listless attitude, with her hands in her lap; she + seemed to be tired. She was dressed simply, as if for walking and escaping + observation. When he had greeted her he glanced back at her companion, and + recognized the faithful Assunta. + </p> + <p> + Christina smiled. “Are you looking for Mr. Hudson? He is not here, I am + happy to say.” + </p> + <p> + “But you?” he asked. “This is a strange place to find you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all! People call me a strange girl, and I might as well have the + comfort of it. I came to take a walk; that, by the way, is part of my + strangeness. I can’t loll all the morning on a sofa, and all the afternoon + in a carriage. I get horribly restless. I must move; I must do something + and see something. Mamma suggests a cup of tea. Meanwhile I put on an old + dress and half a dozen veils, I take Assunta under my arm, and we start on + a pedestrian tour. It ‘s a bore that I can’t take the poodle, but he + attracts attention. We trudge about everywhere; there is nothing I like so + much. I hope you will congratulate me on the simplicity of my tastes.” + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you on your wisdom. To live in Rome and not to walk would, + I think, be poor pleasure. But you are terribly far from home, and I am + afraid you are tired.” + </p> + <p> + “A little—enough to sit here a while.” + </p> + <p> + “Might I offer you my company while you rest?” + </p> + <p> + “If you will promise to amuse me. I am in dismal spirits.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland said he would do what he could, and brought a chair and placed it + near her. He was not in love with her; he disapproved of her; he + mistrusted her; and yet he felt it a kind of privilege to watch her, and + he found a peculiar excitement in talking to her. The background of her + nature, as he would have called it, was large and mysterious, and it + emitted strange, fantastic gleams and flashes. Watching for these rather + quickened one’s pulses. Moreover, it was not a disadvantage to talk to a + girl who made one keep guard on one’s composure; it diminished one’s + chronic liability to utter something less than revised wisdom. + </p> + <p> + Assunta had risen from her prayers, and, as he took his place, was coming + back to her mistress. But Christina motioned her away. “No, no; while you + are about it, say a few dozen more!” she said. “Pray for me,” she added in + English. “Pray, I say nothing silly. She has been at it half an hour; I + envy her capacity!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you never felt in any degree,” Rowland asked, “the fascination of + Catholicism?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have been through that, too! There was a time when I wanted + immensely to be a nun; it was not a laughing matter. It was when I was + about sixteen years old. I read the Imitation and the Life of Saint + Catherine. I fully believed in the miracles of the saints, and I was dying + to have one of my own. The least little accident that could have been + twisted into a miracle would have carried me straight into the bosom of + the church. I had the real religious passion. It has passed away, and, as + I sat here just now, I was wondering what had become of it!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland had already been sensible of something in this young lady’s tone + which he would have called a want of veracity, and this epitome of her + religious experience failed to strike him as an absolute statement of + fact. But the trait was not disagreeable, for she herself was evidently + the foremost dupe of her inventions. She had a fictitious history in which + she believed much more fondly than in her real one, and an infinite + capacity for extemporized reminiscence adapted to the mood of the hour. + She liked to idealize herself, to take interesting and picturesque + attitudes to her own imagination; and the vivacity and spontaneity of her + character gave her, really, a starting-point in experience; so that the + many-colored flowers of fiction which blossomed in her talk were not so + much perversions, as sympathetic exaggerations, of fact. And Rowland felt + that whatever she said of herself might have been, under the imagined + circumstances; impulse was there, audacity, the restless, questioning + temperament. “I am afraid I am sadly prosaic,” he said, “for in these many + months now that I have been in Rome, I have never ceased for a moment to + look at Catholicism simply from the outside. I don’t see an opening as big + as your finger-nail where I could creep into it!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you believe?” asked Christina, looking at him. “Are you + religious?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe in God.” + </p> + <p> + Christina let her beautiful eyes wander a while, and then gave a little + sigh. “You are much to be envied!” + </p> + <p> + “You, I imagine, in that line have nothing to envy me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have. Rest!” + </p> + <p> + “You are too young to say that.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not young; I have never been young! My mother took care of that. I + was a little wrinkled old woman at ten.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” said Rowland, in a moment, “that you are fond of painting + yourself in dark colors.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him a while in silence. “Do you wish,” she demanded at last, + “to win my eternal gratitude? Prove to me that I am better than I + suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I should have first to know what you really suppose.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “It would n’t do. You would be horrified to learn even + the things I imagine about myself, and shocked at the knowledge of evil + displayed in my very mistakes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said Rowland, “I will ask no questions. But, at a venture, I + promise you to catch you some day in the act of doing something very + good.” + </p> + <p> + “Can it be, can it be,” she asked, “that you too are trying to flatter me? + I thought you and I had fallen, from the first, into rather a + truth-speaking vein.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I have not abandoned it!” said Rowland; and he determined, since he + had the credit of homely directness, to push his advantage farther. The + opportunity seemed excellent. But while he was hesitating as to just how + to begin, the young girl said, bending forward and clasping her hands in + her lap, “Please tell me about your religion.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell you about it? I can’t!” said Rowland, with a good deal of emphasis. + </p> + <p> + She flushed a little. “Is it such a mighty mystery it cannot be put into + words, nor communicated to my base ears?” + </p> + <p> + “It is simply a sentiment that makes part of my life, and I can’t detach + myself from it sufficiently to talk about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Religion, it seems to me, should be eloquent and aggressive. It should + wish to make converts, to persuade and illumine, to sway all hearts!” + </p> + <p> + “One’s religion takes the color of one’s general disposition. I am not + aggressive, and certainly I am not eloquent.” + </p> + <p> + “Beware, then, of finding yourself confronted with doubt and despair! I am + sure that doubt, at times, and the bitterness that comes of it, can be + terribly eloquent. To tell the truth, my lonely musings, before you came + in, were eloquent enough, in their way. What do you know of anything but + this strange, terrible world that surrounds you? How do you know that your + faith is not a mere crazy castle in the air; one of those castles that we + are called fools for building when we lodge them in this life?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know it, any more than any one knows the contrary. But one’s + religion is extremely ingenious in doing without knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “In such a world as this it certainly needs to be!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland smiled. “What is your particular quarrel with this world?” + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s a general quarrel. Nothing is true, or fixed, or permanent. We all + seem to be playing with shadows more or less grotesque. It all comes over + me here so dismally! The very atmosphere of this cold, deserted church + seems to mock at one’s longing to believe in something. Who cares for it + now? who comes to it? who takes it seriously? Poor stupid Assunta there + gives in her adhesion in a jargon she does n’t understand, and you and I, + proper, passionless tourists, come lounging in to rest from a walk. And + yet the Catholic church was once the proudest institution in the world, + and had quite its own way with men’s souls. When such a mighty structure + as that turns out to have a flaw, what faith is one to put in one’s poor + little views and philosophies? What is right and what is wrong? What is + one really to care for? What is the proper rule of life? I am tired of + trying to discover, and I suspect it ‘s not worth the trouble. Live as + most amuses you!” + </p> + <p> + “Your perplexities are so terribly comprehensive,” said Rowland, smiling, + “that one hardly knows where to meet them first.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care much for anything you can say, because it ‘s sure to be + half-hearted. You are not in the least contented, yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am an observer!” + </p> + <p> + “No one is absolutely contented, I suppose, but I assure you I complain of + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the worse for your honesty. To begin with, you are in love.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not have me complain of that!” + </p> + <p> + “And it does n’t go well. There are grievous obstacles. So much I know! + You need n’t protest; I ask no questions. You will tell no one—me + least of all. Why does one never see you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, if I came to see you,” said Rowland, deliberating, “it would n’t be, + it could n’t be, for a trivial reason—because I had not been in a + month, because I was passing, because I admire you. It would be because I + should have something very particular to say. I have not come, because I + have been slow in making up my mind to say it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are simply cruel. Something particular, in this ocean of inanities? + In common charity, speak!” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt whether you will like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I hope to heaven it ‘s not a compliment!” + </p> + <p> + “It may be called a compliment to your reasonableness. You perhaps + remember that I gave you a hint of it the other day at Frascati.” + </p> + <p> + “Has it been hanging fire all this time? Explode! I promise not to stop my + ears.” + </p> + <p> + “It relates to my friend Hudson.” And Rowland paused. She was looking at + him expectantly; her face gave no sign. “I am rather disturbed in mind + about him. He seems to me at times to be in an unpromising way.” He paused + again, but Christina said nothing. “The case is simply this,” he went on. + “It was by my advice he renounced his career at home and embraced his + present one. I made him burn his ships. I brought him to Rome, I launched + him in the world, and I stand surety, in a measure, to—to his + mother, for his prosperity. It is not such smooth sailing as it might be, + and I am inclined to put up prayers for fair winds. If he is to succeed, + he must work—quietly, devotedly. It is not news to you, I imagine, + that Hudson is a great admirer of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Christina remained silent; she turned away her eyes with an air, not of + confusion, but of deep deliberation. Surprising frankness had, as a + general thing, struck Rowland as the key-note of her character, but she + had more than once given him a suggestion of an unfathomable power of + calculation, and her silence now had something which it is hardly + extravagant to call portentous. He had of course asked himself how far it + was questionable taste to inform an unprotected girl, for the needs of a + cause, that another man admired her; the thing, superficially, had an + uncomfortable analogy with the shrewdness that uses a cat’s paw and lets + it risk being singed. But he decided that even rigid discretion is not + bound to take a young lady at more than her own valuation, and Christina + presently reassured him as to the limits of her susceptibility. “Mr. + Hudson is in love with me!” she said. + </p> + <p> + Rowland flinched a trifle. Then—“Am I,” he asked, “from this point + of view of mine, to be glad or sorry?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, is Hudson to be happy, or unhappy?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a moment. “You wish him to be great in his profession? And + for that you consider that he must be happy in his life?” + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly. I don’t say it ‘s a general rule, but I think it is a rule for + him.” + </p> + <p> + “So that if he were very happy, he would become very great?” + </p> + <p> + “He would at least do himself justice.” + </p> + <p> + “And by that you mean a great deal?” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal.” + </p> + <p> + Christina sank back in her chair and rested her eyes on the cracked and + polished slabs of the pavement. At last, looking up, “You have not + forgotten, I suppose, that you told me he was engaged?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means.” + </p> + <p> + “He is still engaged, then?” + </p> + <p> + “To the best of my belief.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you desire that, as you say, he should be made happy by something + I can do for him?” + </p> + <p> + “What I desire is this. That your great influence with him should be + exerted for his good, that it should help him and not retard him. + Understand me. You probably know that your lovers have rather a restless + time of it. I can answer for two of them. You don’t know your own mind + very well, I imagine, and you like being admired, rather at the expense of + the admirer. Since we are really being frank, I wonder whether I might not + say the great word.” + </p> + <p> + “You need n’t; I know it. I am a horrible coquette.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not a horrible one, since I am making an appeal to your generosity. I + am pretty sure you cannot imagine yourself marrying my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “There ‘s nothing I cannot imagine! That is my trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland’s brow contracted impatiently. “I cannot imagine it, then!” he + affirmed. + </p> + <p> + Christina flushed faintly; then, very gently, “I am not so bad as you + think,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It is not a question of badness; it is a question of whether + circumstances don’t make the thing an extreme improbability.” + </p> + <p> + “Worse and worse. I can be bullied, then, or bribed!” + </p> + <p> + “You are not so candid,” said Rowland, “as you pretend to be. My feeling + is this. Hudson, as I understand him, does not need, as an artist, the + stimulus of strong emotion, of passion. He’s better without it; he’s + emotional and passionate enough when he ‘s left to himself. The sooner + passion is at rest, therefore, the sooner he will settle down to work, and + the fewer emotions he has that are mere emotions and nothing more, the + better for him. If you cared for him enough to marry him, I should have + nothing to say; I would never venture to interfere. But I strongly suspect + you don’t, and therefore I would suggest, most respectfully, that you + should let him alone.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I let him alone, as you say, all will be well with him for ever + more?” + </p> + <p> + “Not immediately and not absolutely, but things will be easier. He will be + better able to concentrate himself.” + </p> + <p> + “What is he doing now? Wherein does he dissatisfy you?” + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly say. He ‘s like a watch that ‘s running down. He is moody, + desultory, idle, irregular, fantastic.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens, what a list! And it ‘s all poor me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not all. But you are a part of it, and I turn to you because you are + a more tangible, sensible, responsible cause than the others.” + </p> + <p> + Christina raised her hand to her eyes, and bent her head thoughtfully. + Rowland was puzzled to measure the effect of his venture; she rather + surprised him by her gentleness. At last, without moving, “If I were to + marry him,” she asked, “what would have become of his fiancee?” + </p> + <p> + “I am bound to suppose that she would be extremely unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + Christina said nothing more, and Rowland, to let her make her reflections, + left his place and strolled away. Poor Assunta, sitting patiently on a + stone bench, and unprovided, on this occasion, with military consolation, + gave him a bright, frank smile, which might have been construed as an + expression of regret for herself, and of sympathy for her mistress. + Rowland presently seated himself again near Christina. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think,” she asked, looking at him, “of your friend’s + infidelity?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he very much in love with her?” + </p> + <p> + “He asked her to marry him. You may judge.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she rich?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she is poor.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she very much in love with him?” + </p> + <p> + “I know her too little to say.” + </p> + <p> + She paused again, and then resumed: “You have settled in your mind, then, + that I will never seriously listen to him?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it unlikely, until the contrary is proved.” + </p> + <p> + “How shall it be proved? How do you know what passes between us?” + </p> + <p> + “I can judge, of course, but from appearance; but, like you, I am an + observer. Hudson has not at all the air of a prosperous suitor.” + </p> + <p> + “If he is depressed, there is a reason. He has a bad conscience. One must + hope so, at least. On the other hand, simply as a friend,” she continued + gently, “you think I can do him no good?” + </p> + <p> + The humility of her tone, combined with her beauty, as she made this + remark, was inexpressibly touching, and Rowland had an uncomfortable sense + of being put at a disadvantage. “There are doubtless many good things you + might do, if you had proper opportunity,” he said. “But you seem to be + sailing with a current which leaves you little leisure for quiet + benevolence. You live in the whirl and hurry of a world into which a poor + artist can hardly find it to his advantage to follow you.” + </p> + <p> + “In plain English, I am hopelessly frivolous. You put it very generously.” + </p> + <p> + “I won’t hesitate to say all my thought,” said Rowland. “For better or + worse, you seem to me to belong, both by character and by circumstance, to + what is called the world, the great world. You are made to ornament it + magnificently. You are not made to be an artist’s wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. But even from your point of view, that would depend upon the + artist. Extraordinary talent might make him a member of the great world!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland smiled. “That is very true.” + </p> + <p> + “If, as it is,” Christina continued in a moment, “you take a low view of + me—no, you need n’t protest—I wonder what you would think if + you knew certain things.” + </p> + <p> + “What things do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for example, how I was brought up. I have had a horrible education. + There must be some good in me, since I have perceived it, since I have + turned and judged my circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Light!” Rowland murmured. + </p> + <p> + She gave a little, quick laugh. “You don’t want to hear? you don’t want to + have to think about that?” + </p> + <p> + “Have I a right to? You need n’t justify yourself.” + </p> + <p> + She turned upon him a moment the quickened light of her beautiful eyes, + then fell to musing again. “Is there not some novel or some play,” she + asked at last, “in which some beautiful, wicked woman who has ensnared a + young man sees his father come to her and beg her to let him go?” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” said Rowland. “I hope she consents.” + </p> + <p> + “I forget. But tell me,” she continued, “shall you consider—admitting + your proposition—that in ceasing to flirt with Mr. Hudson, so that + he may go about his business, I do something magnanimous, heroic, sublime—something + with a fine name like that?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland, elated with the prospect of gaining his point, was about to reply + that she would deserve the finest name in the world; but he instantly + suspected that this tone would not please her, and, besides, it would not + express his meaning. + </p> + <p> + “You do something I shall greatly respect,” he contented himself with + saying. + </p> + <p> + She made no answer, and in a moment she beckoned to her maid. “What have I + to do to-day?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Assunta meditated. “Eh, it ‘s a very busy day! Fortunately I have a better + memory than the signorina,” she said, turning to Rowland. She began to + count on her fingers. “We have to go to the Pie di Marmo to see about + those laces that were sent to be washed. You said also that you wished to + say three sharp words to the Buonvicini about your pink dress. You want + some moss-rosebuds for to-night, and you won’t get them for nothing! You + dine at the Austrian Embassy, and that Frenchman is to powder your hair. + You ‘re to come home in time to receive, for the signora gives a dance. + And so away, away till morning!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes, the moss-roses!” Christina murmured, caressingly. “I must have a + quantity—at least a hundred. Nothing but buds, eh? You must sew them + in a kind of immense apron, down the front of my dress. Packed tight + together, eh? It will be delightfully barbarous. And then twenty more or + so for my hair. They go very well with powder; don’t you think so?” And + she turned to Rowland. “I am going en Pompadour.” + </p> + <p> + “Going where?” + </p> + <p> + “To the Spanish Embassy, or whatever it is.” + </p> + <p> + “All down the front, signorina? Dio buono! You must give me time!” Assunta + cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we’ll go!” And she left her place. She walked slowly to the door of + the church, looking at the pavement, and Rowland could not guess whether + she was thinking of her apron of moss-rosebuds or of her opportunity for + moral sublimity. Before reaching the door she turned away and stood gazing + at an old picture, indistinguishable with blackness, over an altar. At + last they passed out into the court. Glancing at her in the open air, + Rowland was startled; he imagined he saw the traces of hastily suppressed + tears. They had lost time, she said, and they must hurry; she sent Assunta + to look for a fiacre. She remained silent a while, scratching the ground + with the point of her parasol, and then at last, looking up, she thanked + Rowland for his confidence in her “reasonableness.” “It ‘s really very + comfortable to be asked, to be expected, to do something good, after all + the horrid things one has been used to doing—instructed, commanded, + forced to do! I ‘ll think over what you have said to me.” In that deserted + quarter fiacres are rare, and there was some delay in Assunta’s procuring + one. Christina talked of the church, of the picturesque old court, of that + strange, decaying corner of Rome. Rowland was perplexed; he was ill at + ease. At last the fiacre arrived, but she waited a moment longer. “So, + decidedly,” she suddenly asked, “I can only harm him?” + </p> + <p> + “You make me feel very brutal,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “And he is such a fine fellow that it would be really a great pity, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall praise him no more,” Rowland said. + </p> + <p> + She turned away quickly, but she lingered still. “Do you remember + promising me, soon after we first met, that at the end of six months you + would tell me definitely what you thought of me?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a foolish promise.” + </p> + <p> + “You gave it. Bear it in mind. I will think of what you have said to me. + Farewell.” She stepped into the carriage, and it rolled away. Rowland + stood for some minutes, looking after it, and then went his way with a + sigh. If this expressed general mistrust, he ought, three days afterward, + to have been reassured. He received by the post a note containing these + words:— + </p> + <p> + “I have done it. Begin and respect me! + </p> + <p> + “—C. L.” + </p> + <p> + To be perfectly satisfactory, indeed, the note required a commentary. He + called that evening upon Roderick, and found one in the information + offered him at the door, by the old serving-woman—the startling + information that the signorino had gone to Naples. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. Provocation + </h2> + <p> + About a month later, Rowland addressed to his cousin Cecilia a letter of + which the following is a portion:— + </p> + <p> + ... “So much for myself; yet I tell you but a tithe of my own story unless + I let you know how matters stand with poor Hudson, for he gives me more to + think about just now than anything else in the world. I need a good deal + of courage to begin this chapter. You warned me, you know, and I made + rather light of your warning. I have had all kinds of hopes and fears, but + hitherto, in writing to you, I have resolutely put the hopes foremost. + Now, however, my pride has forsaken me, and I should like hugely to give + expression to a little comfortable despair. I should like to say, ‘My dear + wise woman, you were right and I was wrong; you were a shrewd observer and + I was a meddlesome donkey!’ When I think of a little talk we had about the + ‘salubrity of genius,’ I feel my ears tingle. If this is salubrity, give + me raging disease! I ‘m pestered to death; I go about with a chronic + heartache; there are moments when I could shed salt tears. There ‘s a + pretty portrait of the most placid of men! I wish I could make you + understand; or rather, I wish you could make me! I don’t understand a jot; + it ‘s a hideous, mocking mystery; I give it up! I don’t in the least give + it up, you know; I ‘m incapable of giving it up. I sit holding my head by + the hour, racking my brain, wondering what under heaven is to be done. You + told me at Northampton that I took the thing too easily; you would tell me + now, perhaps, that I take it too hard. I do, altogether; but it can’t be + helped. Without flattering myself, I may say I ‘m sympathetic. Many + another man before this would have cast his perplexities to the winds and + declared that Mr. Hudson must lie on his bed as he had made it. Some men, + perhaps, would even say that I am making a mighty ado about nothing; that + I have only to give him rope, and he will tire himself out. But he tugs at + his rope altogether too hard for me to hold it comfortably. I certainly + never pretended the thing was anything else than an experiment; I promised + nothing, I answered for nothing; I only said the case was hopeful, and + that it would be a shame to neglect it. I have done my best, and if the + machine is running down I have a right to stand aside and let it scuttle. + Amen, amen! No, I can write that, but I can’t feel it. I can’t be just; I + can only be generous. I love the poor fellow and I can’t give him up. As + for understanding him, that ‘s another matter; nowadays I don’t believe + even you would. One’s wits are sadly pestered over here, I assure you, and + I ‘m in the way of seeing more than one puzzling specimen of human nature. + Roderick and Miss Light, between them!... Have n’t I already told you + about Miss Light? Last winter everything was perfection. Roderick struck + out bravely, did really great things, and proved himself, as I supposed, + thoroughly solid. He was strong, he was first-rate; I felt perfectly + secure and sang private paeans of joy. We had passed at a bound into the + open sea, and left danger behind. But in the summer I began to be puzzled, + though I succeeded in not being alarmed. When we came back to Rome, + however, I saw that the tide had turned and that we were close upon the + rocks. It is, in fact, another case of Ulysses alongside of the Sirens; + only Roderick refuses to be tied to the mast. He is the most extraordinary + being, the strangest mixture of qualities. I don’t understand so much + force going with so much weakness—such a brilliant gift being + subject to such lapses. The poor fellow is incomplete, and it is really + not his own fault; Nature has given him the faculty out of hand and bidden + him be hanged with it. I never knew a man harder to advise or assist, if + he is not in the mood for listening. I suppose there is some key or other + to his character, but I try in vain to find it; and yet I can’t believe + that Providence is so cruel as to have turned the lock and thrown the key + away. He perplexes me, as I say, to death, and though he tires out my + patience, he still fascinates me. Sometimes I think he has n’t a grain of + conscience, and sometimes I think that, in a way, he has an excess. He + takes things at once too easily and too hard; he is both too lax and too + tense, too reckless and too ambitious, too cold and too passionate. He has + developed faster even than you prophesied, and for good and evil alike he + takes up a formidable space. There ‘s too much of him for me, at any rate. + Yes, he is hard; there is no mistake about that. He ‘s inflexible, he ‘s + brittle; and though he has plenty of spirit, plenty of soul, he has n’t + what I call a heart. He has something that Miss Garland took for one, and + I ‘m pretty sure she ‘s a judge. But she judged on scanty evidence. He has + something that Christina Light, here, makes believe at times that she + takes for one, but she is no judge at all! I think it is established that, + in the long run, egotism makes a failure in conduct: is it also true that + it makes a failure in the arts?... Roderick’s standard is immensely high; + I must do him that justice. He will do nothing beneath it, and while he is + waiting for inspiration, his imagination, his nerves, his senses must have + something to amuse them. This is a highly philosophical way of saying that + he has taken to dissipation, and that he has just been spending a month at + Naples—a city where ‘pleasure’ is actively cultivated—in very + bad company. Are they all like that, all the men of genius? There are a + great many artists here who hammer away at their trade with exemplary + industry; in fact I am surprised at their success in reducing the matter + to a steady, daily grind: but I really don’t think that one of them has + his exquisite quality of talent. It is in the matter of quantity that he + has broken down. The bottle won’t pour; he turns it upside down; it ‘s no + use! Sometimes he declares it ‘s empty—that he has done all he was + made to do. This I consider great nonsense; but I would nevertheless take + him on his own terms if it was only I that was concerned. But I keep + thinking of those two praying, trusting neighbors of yours, and I feel + wretchedly like a swindler. If his working mood came but once in five + years I would willingly wait for it and maintain him in leisure, if need + be, in the intervals; but that would be a sorry account to present to + them. Five years of this sort of thing, moreover, would effectually settle + the question. I wish he were less of a genius and more of a charlatan! He + ‘s too confoundedly all of one piece; he won’t throw overboard a grain of + the cargo to save the rest. Fancy him thus with all his brilliant personal + charm, his handsome head, his careless step, his look as of a nervous + nineteenth-century Apollo, and you will understand that there is mighty + little comfort in seeing him in a bad way. He was tolerably foolish last + summer at Baden Baden, but he got on his feet, and for a while he was + steady. Then he began to waver again, and at last toppled over. Now, + literally, he ‘s lying prone. He came into my room last night, miserably + tipsy. I assure you, it did n’t amuse me..... About Miss Light it ‘s a + long story. She is one of the great beauties of all time, and worth coming + barefoot to Rome, like the pilgrims of old, to see. Her complexion, her + glance, her step, her dusky tresses, may have been seen before in a + goddess, but never in a woman. And you may take this for truth, because I + ‘m not in love with her. On the contrary! Her education has been simply + infernal. She is corrupt, perverse, as proud as the queen of Sheba, and an + appalling coquette; but she is generous, and with patience and skill you + may enlist her imagination in a good cause as well as in a bad one. The + other day I tried to manipulate it a little. Chance offered me an + interview to which it was possible to give a serious turn, and I boldly + broke ground and begged her to suffer my poor friend to go in peace. After + a good deal of finessing she consented, and the next day, with a single + word, packed him off to Naples to drown his sorrow in debauchery. I have + come to the conclusion that she is more dangerous in her virtuous moods + than in her vicious ones, and that she probably has a way of turning her + back which is the most provoking thing in the world. She ‘s an actress, + she could n’t forego doing the thing dramatically, and it was the dramatic + touch that made it fatal. I wished her, of course, to let him down easily; + but she desired to have the curtain drop on an attitude, and her attitudes + deprive inflammable young artists of their reason..... Roderick made an + admirable bust of her at the beginning of the winter, and a dozen women + came rushing to him to be done, mutatis mutandis, in the same style. They + were all great ladies and ready to take him by the hand, but he told them + all their faces did n’t interest him, and sent them away vowing his + destruction.” + </p> + <p> + At this point of his long effusion, Rowland had paused and put by his + letter. He kept it three days and then read it over. He was disposed at + first to destroy it, but he decided finally to keep it, in the hope that + it might strike a spark of useful suggestion from the flint of Cecilia’s + good sense. We know he had a talent for taking advice. And then it might + be, he reflected, that his cousin’s answer would throw some light on Mary + Garland’s present vision of things. In his altered mood he added these few + lines:— + </p> + <p> + “I unburdened myself the other day of this monstrous load of perplexity; I + think it did me good, and I let it stand. I was in a melancholy muddle, + and I was trying to work myself free. You know I like discussion, in a + quiet way, and there is no one with whom I can have it as quietly as with + you, most sagacious of cousins! There is an excellent old lady with whom I + often chat, and who talks very much to the point. But Madame Grandoni has + disliked Roderick from the first, and if I were to take her advice I would + wash my hands of him. You will laugh at me for my long face, but you would + do that in any circumstances. I am half ashamed of my letter, for I have a + faith in my friend that is deeper than my doubts. He was here last + evening, talking about the Naples Museum, the Aristides, the bronzes, the + Pompeian frescoes, with such a beautiful intelligence that doubt of the + ultimate future seemed blasphemy. I walked back to his lodging with him, + and he was as mild as midsummer moonlight. He has the ineffable something + that charms and convinces; my last word about him shall not be a harsh + one.” + </p> + <p> + Shortly after sending his letter, going one day into his friend’s studio, + he found Roderick suffering from the grave infliction of a visit from Mr. + Leavenworth. Roderick submitted with extreme ill grace to being bored, and + he was now evidently in a state of high exasperation. He had lately begun + a representation of a lazzarone lounging in the sun; an image of serene, + irresponsible, sensuous life. The real lazzarone, he had admitted, was a + vile fellow; but the ideal lazzarone—and his own had been subtly + idealized—was a precursor of the millennium. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Leavenworth had apparently just transferred his unhurrying gaze to the + figure. + </p> + <p> + “Something in the style of the Dying Gladiator?” he sympathetically + observed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no,” said Roderick seriously, “he ‘s not dying, he ‘s only drunk!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but intoxication, you know,” Mr. Leavenworth rejoined, “is not a + proper subject for sculpture. Sculpture should not deal with transitory + attitudes.” + </p> + <p> + “Lying dead drunk is not a transitory attitude! Nothing is more permanent, + more sculpturesque, more monumental!” + </p> + <p> + “An entertaining paradox,” said Mr. Leavenworth, “if we had time to + exercise our wits upon it. I remember at Florence an intoxicated figure by + Michael Angelo which seemed to me a deplorable aberration of a great mind. + I myself touch liquor in no shape whatever. I have traveled through Europe + on cold water. The most varied and attractive lists of wines are offered + me, but I brush them aside. No cork has ever been drawn at my command!” + </p> + <p> + “The movement of drawing a cork calls into play a very pretty set of + muscles,” said Roderick. “I think I will make a figure in that position.” + </p> + <p> + “A Bacchus, realistically treated! My dear young friend, never trifle with + your lofty mission. Spotless marble should represent virtue, not vice!” + And Mr. Leavenworth placidly waved his hand, as if to exorcise the spirit + of levity, while his glance journeyed with leisurely benignity to another + object—a marble replica of the bust of Miss Light. “An ideal head, I + presume,” he went on; “a fanciful representation of one of the pagan + goddesses—a Diana, a Flora, a naiad or dryad? I often regret that + our American artists should not boldly cast off that extinct + nomenclature.” + </p> + <p> + “She is neither a naiad nor a dryad,” said Roderick, “and her name is as + good as yours or mine.” + </p> + <p> + “You call her”—Mr. Leavenworth blandly inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Light,” Rowland interposed, in charity. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, our great American beauty! Not a pagan goddess—an American, + Christian lady! Yes, I have had the pleasure of conversing with Miss + Light. Her conversational powers are not remarkable, but her beauty is of + a high order. I observed her the other evening at a large party, where + some of the proudest members of the European aristocracy were present—duchesses, + princesses, countesses, and others distinguished by similar titles. But + for beauty, grace, and elegance my fair countrywoman left them all + nowhere. What women can compare with a truly refined American lady? The + duchesses the other night had no attractions for my eyes; they looked + coarse and sensual! It seemed to me that the tyranny of class distinctions + must indeed be terrible when such countenances could inspire admiration. + You see more beautiful girls in an hour on Broadway than in the whole tour + of Europe. Miss Light, now, on Broadway, would excite no particular + remark.” + </p> + <p> + “She has never been there!” cried Roderick, triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m afraid she never will be there. I suppose you have heard the news + about her.” + </p> + <p> + “What news?” Roderick had stood with his back turned, fiercely poking at + his lazzarone; but at Mr. Leavenworth’s last words he faced quickly about. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s the news of the hour, I believe. Miss Light is admired by the + highest people here. They tacitly recognize her superiority. She has had + offers of marriage from various great lords. I was extremely happy to + learn this circumstance, and to know that they all had been left sighing. + She has not been dazzled by their titles and their gilded coronets. She + has judged them simply as men, and found them wanting. One of them, + however, a young Neapolitan prince, I believe, has after a long probation + succeeded in making himself acceptable. Miss Light has at last said yes, + and the engagement has just been announced. I am not generally a retailer + of gossip of this description, but the fact was alluded to an hour ago by + a lady with whom I was conversing, and here, in Europe, these + conversational trifles usurp the lion’s share of one’s attention. I + therefore retained the circumstance. Yes, I regret that Miss Light should + marry one of these used-up foreigners. Americans should stand by each + other. If she wanted a brilliant match we could have fixed it for her. If + she wanted a fine fellow—a fine, sharp, enterprising modern man—I + would have undertaken to find him for her without going out of the city of + New York. And if she wanted a big fortune, I would have found her twenty + that she would have had hard work to spend: money down—not tied up + in fever-stricken lands and worm-eaten villas! What is the name of the + young man? Prince Castaway, or some such thing!” + </p> + <p> + It was well for Mr. Leavenworth that he was a voluminous and imperturbable + talker; for the current of his eloquence floated him past the short, + sharp, startled cry with which Roderick greeted his “conversational + trifle.” The young man stood looking at him with parted lips and an + excited eye. + </p> + <p> + “The position of woman,” Mr. Leavenworth placidly resumed, “is certainly a + very degraded one in these countries. I doubt whether a European princess + can command the respect which in our country is exhibited toward the + obscurest females. The civilization of a country should be measured by the + deference shown to the weaker sex. Judged by that standard, where are + they, over here?” + </p> + <p> + Though Mr. Leavenworth had not observed Roderick’s emotion, it was not + lost upon Rowland, who was making certain uncomfortable reflections upon + it. He saw that it had instantly become one with the acute irritation + produced by the poor gentleman’s oppressive personality, and that an + explosion of some sort was imminent. Mr. Leavenworth, with calm + unconsciousness, proceeded to fire the mine. + </p> + <p> + “And now for our Culture!” he said in the same sonorous tones, demanding + with a gesture the unveiling of the figure, which stood somewhat apart, + muffled in a great sheet. + </p> + <p> + Roderick stood looking at him for a moment with concentrated rancor, and + then strode to the statue and twitched off the cover. Mr. Leavenworth + settled himself into his chair with an air of flattered proprietorship, + and scanned the unfinished image. “I can conscientiously express myself as + gratified with the general conception,” he said. “The figure has + considerable majesty, and the countenance wears a fine, open expression. + The forehead, however, strikes me as not sufficiently intellectual. In a + statue of Culture, you know, that should be the great point. The eye + should instinctively seek the forehead. Could n’t you heighten it up a + little?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick, for all answer, tossed the sheet back over the statue. “Oblige + me, sir,” he said, “oblige me! Never mention that thing again.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mention it? Why my dear sir”— + </p> + <p> + “Never mention it. It ‘s an abomination!” + </p> + <p> + “An abomination! My Culture!” + </p> + <p> + “Yours indeed!” cried Roderick. “It ‘s none of mine. I disown it.” + </p> + <p> + “Disown it, if you please,” said Mr. Leavenworth sternly, “but finish it + first!” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘d rather smash it!” cried Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “This is folly, sir. You must keep your engagements.” + </p> + <p> + “I made no engagement. A sculptor is n’t a tailor. Did you ever hear of + inspiration? Mine is dead! And it ‘s no laughing matter. You yourself + killed it.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I—killed your inspiration?” cried Mr. Leavenworth, with the + accent of righteous wrath. “You ‘re a very ungrateful boy! If ever I + encouraged and cheered and sustained any one, I ‘m sure I have done so to + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I appreciate your good intentions, and I don’t wish to be uncivil. But + your encouragement is—superfluous. I can’t work for you!” + </p> + <p> + “I call this ill-humor, young man!” said Mr. Leavenworth, as if he had + found the damning word. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I ‘m in an infernal humor!” Roderick answered. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, sir, is it my infelicitous allusion to Miss Light’s marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s your infelicitous everything! I don’t say that to offend you; I beg + your pardon if it does. I say it by way of making our rupture complete, + irretrievable!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland had stood by in silence, but he now interfered. “Listen to me,” he + said, laying his hand on Roderick’s arm. “You are standing on the edge of + a gulf. If you suffer anything that has passed to interrupt your work on + that figure, you take your plunge. It ‘s no matter that you don’t like it; + you will do the wisest thing you ever did if you make that effort of will + necessary for finishing it. Destroy the statue then, if you like, but make + the effort. I speak the truth!” + </p> + <p> + Roderick looked at him with eyes that still inexorableness made almost + tender. “You too!” he simply said. + </p> + <p> + Rowland felt that he might as well attempt to squeeze water from a + polished crystal as hope to move him. He turned away and walked into the + adjoining room with a sense of sickening helplessness. In a few moments he + came back and found that Mr. Leavenworth had departed—presumably in + a manner somewhat portentous. Roderick was sitting with his elbows on his + knees and his head in his hands. + </p> + <p> + Rowland made one more attempt. “You decline to think of what I urge?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s one more point—that you shouldn’t, for a month, go to Mrs. + Light’s.” + </p> + <p> + “I go there this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “That too is an utter folly.” + </p> + <p> + “There are such things as necessary follies.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not reflecting; you are speaking in passion.” + </p> + <p> + “Why then do you make me speak?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland meditated a moment. “Is it also necessary that you should lose the + best friend you have?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick looked up. “That ‘s for you to settle!” + </p> + <p> + His best friend clapped on his hat and strode away; in a moment the door + closed behind him. Rowland walked hard for nearly a couple of hours. He + passed up the Corso, out of the Porta del Popolo and into the Villa + Borghese, of which he made a complete circuit. The keenness of his + irritation subsided, but it left him with an intolerable weight upon his + heart. When dusk had fallen, he found himself near the lodging of his + friend Madame Grandoni. He frequently paid her a visit during the hour + which preceded dinner, and he now ascended her unillumined staircase and + rang at her relaxed bell-rope with an especial desire for diversion. He + was told that, for the moment, she was occupied, but that if he would come + in and wait, she would presently be with him. He had not sat musing in the + firelight for ten minutes when he heard the jingle of the door-bell and + then a rustling and murmuring in the hall. The door of the little saloon + opened, but before the visitor appeared he had recognized her voice. + Christina Light swept forward, preceded by her poodle, and almost filling + the narrow parlor with the train of her dress. She was colored here and + there by the flicking firelight. + </p> + <p> + “They told me you were here,” she said simply, as she took a seat. + </p> + <p> + “And yet you came in? It is very brave,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “You are the brave one, when one thinks of it! Where is the padrona?” + </p> + <p> + “Occupied for the moment. But she is coming.” + </p> + <p> + “How soon?” + </p> + <p> + “I have already waited ten minutes; I expect her from moment to moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Meanwhile we are alone?” And she glanced into the dusky corners of the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Unless Stenterello counts,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he knows my secrets—unfortunate brute!” She sat silent awhile, + looking into the firelight. Then at last, glancing at Rowland, “Come! say + something pleasant!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I have been very happy to hear of your engagement.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don’t mean that. I have heard that so often, only since breakfast, + that it has lost all sense. I mean some of those unexpected, charming + things that you said to me a month ago at Saint Cecilia’s.” + </p> + <p> + “I offended you, then,” said Rowland. “I was afraid I had.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it occurred to you? Why have n’t I seen you since?” + </p> + <p> + “Really, I don’t know.” And he began to hesitate for an explanation. “I + have called, but you have never been at home.” + </p> + <p> + “You were careful to choose the wrong times. You have a way with a poor + girl! You sit down and inform her that she is a person with whom a + respectable young man cannot associate without contamination; your friend + is a very nice fellow, you are very careful of his morals, you wish him to + know none but nice people, and you beg me therefore to desist. You request + me to take these suggestions to heart and to act upon them as promptly as + possible. They are not particularly flattering to my vanity. Vanity, + however, is a sin, and I listen submissively, with an immense desire to be + just. If I have many faults I know it, in a general way, and I try on the + whole to do my best. ‘Voyons,’ I say to myself, ‘it is n’t particularly + charming to hear one’s self made out such a low person, but it is worth + thinking over; there ‘s probably a good deal of truth in it, and at any + rate we must be as good a girl as we can. That ‘s the great point! And + then here ‘s a magnificent chance for humility. If there ‘s doubt in the + matter, let the doubt count against one’s self. That is what Saint + Catherine did, and Saint Theresa, and all the others, and they are said to + have had in consequence the most ineffable joys. Let us go in for a little + ineffable joy!’ I tried it; I swallowed my rising sobs, I made you my + courtesy, I determined I would not be spiteful, nor passionate, nor + vengeful, nor anything that is supposed to be particularly feminine. I was + a better girl than you made out—better at least than you thought; + but I would let the difference go and do magnificently right, lest I + should not do right enough. I thought of it a deal for six hours when I + know I did n’t seem to be, and then at last I did it! Santo Dio!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Light, my dear Miss Light!” said Rowland, pleadingly. + </p> + <p> + “Since then,” the young girl went on, “I have been waiting for the + ineffable joys. They have n’t yet turned up!” + </p> + <p> + “Pray listen to me!” Rowland urged. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, nothing, nothing has come of it. I have passed the dreariest + month of my life!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Light, you are a very terrible young lady!” cried Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “A good many things. We ‘ll talk them over. But first, forgive me if I + have offended you!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him a moment, hesitating, and then thrust her hands into her + muff. “That means nothing. Forgiveness is between equals, and you don’t + regard me as your equal.” + </p> + <p> + “Really, I don’t understand!” + </p> + <p> + Christina rose and moved for a moment about the room. Then turning + suddenly, “You don’t believe in me!” she cried; “not a grain! I don’t know + what I would not give to force you to believe in me!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland sprang up, protesting, but before he had time to go far one of the + scanty portieres was raised, and Madame Grandoni came in, pulling her wig + straight. “But you shall believe in me yet,” murmured Christina, as she + passed toward her hostess. + </p> + <p> + Madame Grandoni turned tenderly to Christina. “I must give you a very + solemn kiss, my dear; you are the heroine of the hour. You have really + accepted him, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “So they say!” + </p> + <p> + “But you ought to know best.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know—I don’t care!” She stood with her hand in Madame + Grandoni’s, but looking askance at Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s a pretty state of mind,” said the old lady, “for a young person + who is going to become a princess.” + </p> + <p> + Christina shrugged her shoulders. “Every one expects me to go into + ecstacies over that! Could anything be more vulgar? They may chuckle by + themselves! Will you let me stay to dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “If you can dine on a risotto. But I imagine you are expected at home.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right. Prince Casamassima dines there, en famille. But I ‘m not + in his family, yet!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know you are very wicked? I have half a mind not to keep you.” + </p> + <p> + Christina dropped her eyes, reflectively. “I beg you will let me stay,” + she said. “If you wish to cure me of my wickedness you must be very + patient and kind with me. It will be worth the trouble. You must show + confidence in me.” And she gave another glance at Rowland. Then suddenly, + in a different tone, “I don’t know what I ‘m saying!” she cried. “I am + weary, I am more lonely than ever, I wish I were dead!” The tears rose to + her eyes, she struggled with them an instant, and buried her face in her + muff; but at last she burst into uncontrollable sobs and flung her arms + upon Madame Grandoni’s neck. This shrewd woman gave Rowland a significant + nod, and a little shrug, over the young girl’s beautiful bowed head, and + then led Christina tenderly away into the adjoining room. Rowland, left + alone, stood there for an instant, intolerably puzzled, face to face with + Miss Light’s poodle, who had set up a sharp, unearthly cry of sympathy + with his mistress. Rowland vented his confusion in dealing a rap with his + stick at the animal’s unmelodious muzzle, and then rapidly left the house. + He saw Mrs. Light’s carriage waiting at the door, and heard afterwards + that Christina went home to dinner. + </p> + <p> + A couple of days later he went, for a fortnight, to Florence. He had + twenty minds to leave Italy altogether; and at Florence he could at least + more freely decide upon his future movements. He felt profoundly, + incurably disgusted. Reflective benevolence stood prudently aside, and for + the time touched the source of his irritation with no softening + side-lights. + </p> + <p> + It was the middle of March, and by the middle of March in Florence the + spring is already warm and deep. He had an infinite relish for the place + and the season, but as he strolled by the Arno and paused here and there + in the great galleries, they failed to soothe his irritation. He was sore + at heart, and as the days went by the soreness deepened rather than + healed. He felt as if he had a complaint against fortune; good-natured as + he was, his good-nature this time quite declined to let it pass. He had + tried to be wise, he had tried to be kind, he had embarked upon an + estimable enterprise; but his wisdom, his kindness, his energy, had been + thrown back in his face. He was disappointed, and his disappointment had + an angry spark in it. The sense of wasted time, of wasted hope and faith, + kept him constant company. There were times when the beautiful things + about him only exasperated his discontent. He went to the Pitti Palace, + and Raphael’s Madonna of the Chair seemed, in its soft serenity, to mock + him with the suggestion of unattainable repose. He lingered on the bridges + at sunset, and knew that the light was enchanting and the mountains + divine, but there seemed to be something horribly invidious and unwelcome + in the fact. He felt, in a word, like a man who has been cruelly defrauded + and who wishes to have his revenge. Life owed him, he thought, a + compensation, and he would be restless and resentful until he found it. He + knew—or he seemed to know—where he should find it; but he + hardly told himself, and thought of the thing under mental protest, as a + man in want of money may think of certain funds that he holds in trust. In + his melancholy meditations the idea of something better than all this, + something that might softly, richly interpose, something that might + reconcile him to the future, something that might make one’s tenure of + life deep and zealous instead of harsh and uneven—the idea of + concrete compensation, in a word—shaped itself sooner or later into + the image of Mary Garland. + </p> + <p> + Very odd, you may say, that at this time of day Rowland should still be + brooding over a plain girl of whom he had had but the lightest of glimpses + two years before; very odd that so deep an impression should have been + made by so lightly-pressed an instrument. We must admit the oddity and + offer simply in explanation that his sentiment apparently belonged to that + species of emotion of which, by the testimony of the poets, the very name + and essence is oddity. One night he slept but half an hour; he found his + thoughts taking a turn which excited him portentously. He walked up and + down his room half the night. It looked out on the Arno; the noise of the + river came in at the open window; he felt like dressing and going down + into the streets. Toward morning he flung himself into a chair; though he + was wide awake he was less excited. It seemed to him that he saw his idea + from the outside, that he judged it and condemned it; yet it stood there + before him, distinct, and in a certain way imperious. During the day he + tried to banish it and forget it; but it fascinated, haunted, at moments + frightened him. He tried to amuse himself, paid visits, resorted to + several rather violent devices for diverting his thoughts. If on the + morrow he had committed a crime, the persons whom he had seen that day + would have testified that he had talked strangely and had not seemed like + himself. He felt certainly very unlike himself; long afterwards, in + retrospect, he used to reflect that during those days he had for a while + been literally beside himself. His idea persisted; it clung to him like a + sturdy beggar. The sense of the matter, roughly expressed, was this: If + Roderick was really going, as he himself had phrased it, to “fizzle out,” + one might help him on the way—one might smooth the descensus Averno. + For forty-eight hours there swam before Rowland’s eyes a vision of + Roderick, graceful and beautiful as he passed, plunging, like a diver, + from an eminence into a misty gulf. The gulf was destruction, + annihilation, death; but if death was decreed, why should not the agony be + brief? Beyond this vision there faintly glimmered another, as in the + children’s game of the “magic lantern” a picture is superposed on the + white wall before the last one has quite faded. It represented Mary + Garland standing there with eyes in which the horror seemed slowly, slowly + to expire, and hanging, motionless hands which at last made no resistance + when his own offered to take them. When, of old, a man was burnt at the + stake it was cruel to have to be present; but if one was present it was + kind to lend a hand to pile up the fuel and make the flames do their work + quickly and the smoke muffle up the victim. With all deference to your + kindness, this was perhaps an obligation you would especially feel if you + had a reversionary interest in something the victim was to leave behind + him. + </p> + <p> + One morning, in the midst of all this, Rowland walked heedlessly out of + one of the city gates and found himself on the road to Fiesole. It was a + completely lovely day; the March sun felt like May, as the English poet of + Florence says; the thick-blossomed shrubs and vines that hung over the + walls of villa and podere flung their odorous promise into the warm, still + air. Rowland followed the winding, climbing lanes; lingered, as he got + higher, beneath the rusty cypresses, beside the low parapets, where you + look down on the charming city and sweep the vale of the Arno; reached the + little square before the cathedral, and rested awhile in the massive, + dusky church; then climbed higher, to the Franciscan convent which is + poised on the very apex of the mountain. He rang at the little gateway; a + shabby, senile, red-faced brother admitted him with almost maudlin + friendliness. There was a dreary chill in the chapel and the corridors, + and he passed rapidly through them into the delightfully steep and tangled + old garden which runs wild over the forehead of the great hill. He had + been in it before, and he was very fond of it. The garden hangs in the + air, and you ramble from terrace to terrace and wonder how it keeps from + slipping down, in full consummation of its bereaved forlornness, into the + nakedly romantic gorge beneath. It was just noon when Rowland went in, and + after roaming about awhile he flung himself in the sun on a mossy stone + bench and pulled his hat over his eyes. The short shadows of the + brown-coated cypresses above him had grown very long, and yet he had not + passed back through the convent. One of the monks, in his faded + snuff-colored robe, came wandering out into the garden, reading his greasy + little breviary. Suddenly he came toward the bench on which Rowland had + stretched himself, and paused a moment, attentively. Rowland was lingering + there still; he was sitting with his head in his hands and his elbows on + his knees. He seemed not to have heard the sandaled tread of the good + brother, but as the monk remained watching him, he at last looked up. It + was not the ignoble old man who had admitted him, but a pale, gaunt + personage, of a graver and more ascetic, and yet of a benignant, aspect. + Rowland’s face bore the traces of extreme trouble. The frate kept his + finger in his little book, and folded his arms picturesquely across his + breast. It can hardly be determined whether his attitude, as he bent his + sympathetic Italian eye upon Rowland, was a happy accident or the result + of an exquisite spiritual discernment. To Rowland, at any rate, under the + emotion of that moment, it seemed blessedly opportune. He rose and + approached the monk, and laid his hand on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “My brother,” he said, “did you ever see the Devil?” + </p> + <p> + The frate gazed, gravely, and crossed himself. “Heaven forbid!” + </p> + <p> + “He was here,” Rowland went on, “here in this lovely garden, as he was + once in Paradise, half an hour ago. But have no fear; I drove him out.” + And Rowland stooped and picked up his hat, which had rolled away into a + bed of cyclamen, in vague symbolism of an actual physical tussle. + </p> + <p> + “You have been tempted, my brother?” asked the friar, tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “Hideously!” + </p> + <p> + “And you have resisted—and conquered!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe I have conquered.” + </p> + <p> + “The blessed Saint Francis be praised! It is well done. If you like, we + will offer a mass for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a Catholic,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + The frate smiled with dignity. “That is a reason the more.” + </p> + <p> + “But it ‘s for you, then, to choose. Shake hands with me,” Rowland added; + “that will do as well; and suffer me, as I go out, to stop a moment in + your chapel.” + </p> + <p> + They shook hands and separated. The frate crossed himself, opened his + book, and wandered away, in relief against the western sky. Rowland passed + back into the convent, and paused long enough in the chapel to look for + the alms-box. He had had what is vulgarly termed a great scare; he + believed, very poignantly for the time, in the Devil, and he felt an + irresistible need to subscribe to any institution which engaged to keep + him at a distance. + </p> + <p> + The next day he returned to Rome, and the day afterwards he went in search + of Roderick. He found him on the Pincian with his back turned to the + crowd, looking at the sunset. “I went to Florence,” Rowland said, “and I + thought of going farther; but I came back on purpose to give you another + piece of advice. Once more, you refuse to leave Rome?” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” said Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “The only chance that I see, then, of your reviving your sense of + responsibility to—to those various sacred things you have forgotten, + is in sending for your mother to join you here.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick stared. “For my mother?” + </p> + <p> + “For your mother—and for Miss Garland.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick still stared; and then, slowly and faintly, his face flushed. + “For Mary Garland—for my mother?” he repeated. “Send for them?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me this; I have often wondered, but till now I have forborne to ask. + You are still engaged to Miss Garland?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick frowned darkly, but assented. + </p> + <p> + “It would give you pleasure, then, to see her?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick turned away and for some moments answered nothing. “Pleasure!” he + said at last, huskily. “Call it pain.” + </p> + <p> + “I regard you as a sick man,” Rowland continued. “In such a case Miss + Garland would say that her place was at your side.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick looked at him some time askance, mistrustfully. “Is this a + deep-laid snare?” he asked slowly. + </p> + <p> + Rowland had come back with all his patience rekindled, but these words + gave it an almost fatal chill. “Heaven forgive you!” he cried bitterly. + “My idea has been simply this. Try, in decency, to understand it. I have + tried to befriend you, to help you, to inspire you with confidence, and I + have failed. I took you from the hands of your mother and your betrothed, + and it seemed to me my duty to restore you to their hands. That ‘s all I + have to say.” + </p> + <p> + He was going, but Roderick forcibly detained him. It would have been but a + rough way of expressing it to say that one could never know how Roderick + would take a thing. It had happened more than once that when hit hard, + deservedly, he had received the blow with touching gentleness. On the + other hand, he had often resented the softest taps. The secondary effect + of Rowland’s present admonition seemed reassuring. “I beg you to wait,” he + said, “to forgive that shabby speech, and to let me reflect.” And he + walked up and down awhile, reflecting. At last he stopped, with a look in + his face that Rowland had not seen all winter. It was a strikingly + beautiful look. + </p> + <p> + “How strange it is,” he said, “that the simplest devices are the last that + occur to one!” And he broke into a light laugh. “To see Mary Garland is + just what I want. And my mother—my mother can’t hurt me now.” + </p> + <p> + “You will write, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I will telegraph. They must come, at whatever cost. Striker can arrange + it all for them.” + </p> + <p> + In a couple of days he told Rowland that he had received a telegraphic + answer to his message, informing him that the two ladies were to sail + immediately for Leghorn, in one of the small steamers which ply between + that port and New York. They would arrive, therefore, in less than a + month. Rowland passed this month of expectation in no very serene frame of + mind. His suggestion had had its source in the deepest places of his + agitated conscience; but there was something intolerable in the thought of + the suffering to which the event was probably subjecting those undefended + women. They had scraped together their scanty funds and embarked, at + twenty-four hours’ notice, upon the dreadful sea, to journey tremulously + to shores darkened by the shadow of deeper alarms. He could only promise + himself to be their devoted friend and servant. Preoccupied as he was, he + was able to observe that expectation, with Roderick, took a form which + seemed singular even among his characteristic singularities. If redemption—Roderick + seemed to reason—was to arrive with his mother and his affianced + bride, these last moments of error should be doubly erratic. He did + nothing; but inaction, with him, took on an unwonted air of gentle gayety. + He laughed and whistled and went often to Mrs. Light’s; though Rowland + knew not in what fashion present circumstances had modified his relations + with Christina. The month ebbed away and Rowland daily expected to hear + from Roderick that he had gone to Leghorn to meet the ship. He heard + nothing, and late one evening, not having seen his friend in three or four + days, he stopped at Roderick’s lodging to assure himself that he had gone + at last. A cab was standing in the street, but as it was a couple of doors + off he hardly heeded it. The hall at the foot of the staircase was dark, + like most Roman halls, and he paused in the street-doorway on hearing the + advancing footstep of a person with whom he wished to avoid coming into + collision. While he did so he heard another footstep behind him, and + turning round found that Roderick in person had just overtaken him. At the + same moment a woman’s figure advanced from within, into the light of the + street-lamp, and a face, half-startled, glanced at him out of the + darkness. He gave a cry—it was the face of Mary Garland. Her glance + flew past him to Roderick, and in a second a startled exclamation broke + from her own lips. It made Rowland turn again. Roderick stood there, pale, + apparently trying to speak, but saying nothing. His lips were parted and + he was wavering slightly with a strange movement—the movement of a + man who has drunk too much. Then Rowland’s eyes met Miss Garland’s again, + and her own, which had rested a moment on Roderick’s, were formidable! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. Mary Garland + </h2> + <p> + How it befell that Roderick had failed to be in Leghorn on his mother’s + arrival never clearly transpired; for he undertook to give no elaborate + explanation of his fault. He never indulged in professions (touching + personal conduct) as to the future, or in remorse as to the past, and as + he would have asked no praise if he had traveled night and day to embrace + his mother as she set foot on shore, he made (in Rowland’s presence, at + least) no apology for having left her to come in search of him. It was to + be said that, thanks to an unprecedentedly fine season, the voyage of the + two ladies had been surprisingly rapid, and that, according to common + probabilities, if Roderick had left Rome on the morrow (as he declared + that he had intended), he would have had a day or two of waiting at + Leghorn. Rowland’s silent inference was that Christina Light had beguiled + him into letting the time slip, and it was accompanied with a silent + inquiry whether she had done so unconsciously or maliciously. He had told + her, presumably, that his mother and his cousin were about to arrive; and + it was pertinent to remember hereupon that she was a young lady of + mysterious impulses. Rowland heard in due time the story of the adventures + of the two ladies from Northampton. Miss Garland’s wish, at Leghorn, on + finding they were left at the mercy of circumstances, had been to + telegraph to Roderick and await an answer; for she knew that their arrival + was a trifle premature. But Mrs. Hudson’s maternal heart had taken the + alarm. Roderick’s sending for them was, to her imagination, a confession + of illness, and his not being at Leghorn, a proof of it; an hour’s delay + was therefore cruel both to herself and to him. She insisted on immediate + departure; and, unskilled as they were in the mysteries of foreign (or + even of domestic) travel, they had hurried in trembling eagerness to Rome. + They had arrived late in the evening, and, knowing nothing of inns, had + got into a cab and proceeded to Roderick’s lodging. At the door, poor Mrs. + Hudson’s frightened anxiety had overcome her, and she had sat quaking and + crying in the vehicle, too weak to move. Miss Garland had bravely gone in, + groped her way up the dusky staircase, reached Roderick’s door, and, with + the assistance of such acquaintance with the Italian tongue as she had + culled from a phrase-book during the calmer hours of the voyage, had + learned from the old woman who had her cousin’s household economy in + charge that he was in the best of health and spirits, and had gone forth a + few hours before with his hat on his ear, per divertirsi. + </p> + <p> + These things Rowland learned during a visit he paid the two ladies the + evening after their arrival. Mrs. Hudson spoke of them at great length and + with an air of clinging confidence in Rowland which told him how + faithfully time had served him, in her imagination. But her fright was + over, though she was still catching her breath a little, like a person + dragged ashore out of waters uncomfortably deep. She was excessively + bewildered and confused, and seemed more than ever to demand a tender + handling from her friends. Before Miss Garland, Rowland was distinctly + conscious that he trembled. He wondered extremely what was going on in her + mind; what was her silent commentary on the incidents of the night before. + He wondered all the more, because he immediately perceived that she was + greatly changed since their parting, and that the change was by no means + for the worse. She was older, easier, more free, more like a young woman + who went sometimes into company. She had more beauty as well, inasmuch as + her beauty before had been the depth of her expression, and the sources + from which this beauty was fed had in these two years evidently not wasted + themselves. Rowland felt almost instantly—he could hardly have said + why: it was in her voice, in her tone, in the air—that a total + change had passed over her attitude towards himself. She trusted him now, + absolutely; whether or no she liked him, she believed he was solid. He + felt that during the coming weeks he would need to be solid. Mrs. Hudson + was at one of the smaller hotels, and her sitting-room was frugally + lighted by a couple of candles. Rowland made the most of this dim + illumination to try to detect the afterglow of that frightened flash from + Miss Garland’s eyes the night before. It had been but a flash, for what + provoked it had instantly vanished. Rowland had murmured a rapturous + blessing on Roderick’s head, as he perceived him instantly apprehend the + situation. If he had been drinking, its gravity sobered him on the spot; + in a single moment he collected his wits. The next moment, with a ringing, + jovial cry, he was folding the young girl in his arms, and the next he was + beside his mother’s carriage, half smothered in her sobs and caresses. + Rowland had recommended a hotel close at hand, and had then discreetly + withdrawn. Roderick was at this time doing his part superbly, and Miss + Garland’s brow was serene. It was serene now, twenty-four hours later; but + nevertheless, her alarm had lasted an appreciable moment. What had become + of it? It had dropped down deep into her memory, and it was lying there + for the present in the shade. But with another week, Rowland said to + himself, it would leap erect again; the lightest friction would strike a + spark from it. Rowland thought he had schooled himself to face the issue + of Mary Garland’s advent, casting it even in a tragical phase; but in her + personal presence—in which he found a poignant mixture of the + familiar and the strange—he seemed to face it and all that it might + bring with it for the first time. In vulgar parlance, he stood uneasy in + his shoes. He felt like walking on tiptoe, not to arouse the sleeping + shadows. He felt, indeed, almost like saying that they might have their + own way later, if they would only allow to these first few days the clear + light of ardent contemplation. For Rowland at last was ardent, and all the + bells within his soul were ringing bravely in jubilee. Roderick, he + learned, had been the whole day with his mother, and had evidently + responded to her purest trust. He appeared to her appealing eyes still + unspotted by the world. That is what it is, thought Rowland, to be + “gifted,” to escape not only the superficial, but the intrinsic penalties + of misconduct. The two ladies had spent the day within doors, resting from + the fatigues of travel. Miss Garland, Rowland suspected, was not so + fatigued as she suffered it to be assumed. She had remained with Mrs. + Hudson, to attend to her personal wants, which the latter seemed to think, + now that she was in a foreign land, with a southern climate and a Catholic + religion, would forthwith become very complex and formidable, though as + yet they had simply resolved themselves into a desire for a great deal of + tea and for a certain extremely familiar old black and white shawl across + her feet, as she lay on the sofa. But the sense of novelty was evidently + strong upon Miss Garland, and the light of expectation was in her eye. She + was restless and excited; she moved about the room and went often to the + window; she was observing keenly; she watched the Italian servants + intently, as they came and went; she had already had a long colloquy with + the French chambermaid, who had expounded her views on the Roman question; + she noted the small differences in the furniture, in the food, in the + sounds that came in from the street. Rowland felt, in all this, that her + intelligence, here, would have a great unfolding. He wished immensely he + might have a share in it; he wished he might show her Rome. That, of + course, would be Roderick’s office. But he promised himself at least to + take advantage of off-hours. + </p> + <p> + “It behooves you to appreciate your good fortune,” he said to her. “To be + young and elastic, and yet old enough and wise enough to discriminate and + reflect, and to come to Italy for the first time—that is one of the + greatest pleasures that life offers us. It is but right to remind you of + it, so that you make the most of opportunity and do not accuse yourself, + later, of having wasted the precious season.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Garland looked at him, smiling intently, and went to the window + again. “I expect to enjoy it,” she said. “Don’t be afraid; I am not + wasteful.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid we are not qualified, you know,” said Mrs. Hudson. “We are + told that you must know so much, that you must have read so many books. + Our taste has not been cultivated. When I was a young lady at school, I + remember I had a medal, with a pink ribbon, for ‘proficiency in Ancient + History’—the seven kings, or is it the seven hills? and Quintus + Curtius and Julius Caesar and—and that period, you know. I believe I + have my medal somewhere in a drawer, now, but I have forgotten all about + the kings. But after Roderick came to Italy we tried to learn something + about it. Last winter Mary used to read ‘Corinne’ to me in the evenings, + and in the mornings she used to read another book, to herself. What was + it, Mary, that book that was so long, you know,—in fifteen volumes?” + </p> + <p> + “It was Sismondi’s Italian Republics,” said Mary, simply. + </p> + <p> + Rowland could not help laughing; whereupon Mary blushed. “Did you finish + it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and began another—a shorter one—Roscoe’s Leo the Tenth.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you find them interesting?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you like history?” + </p> + <p> + “Some of it.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s a woman’s answer! And do you like art?” + </p> + <p> + She paused a moment. “I have never seen it!” + </p> + <p> + “You have great advantages, now, my dear, with Roderick and Mr. Mallet,” + said Mrs. Hudson. “I am sure no young lady ever had such advantages. You + come straight to the highest authorities. Roderick, I suppose, will show + you the practice of art, and Mr. Mallet, perhaps, if he will be so good, + will show you the theory. As an artist’s wife, you ought to know something + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “One learns a good deal about it, here, by simply living,” said Rowland; + “by going and coming about one’s daily avocations.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear, dear, how wonderful that we should be here in the midst of it!” + murmured Mrs. Hudson. “To think of art being out there in the streets! We + did n’t see much of it last evening, as we drove from the depot. But the + streets were so dark and we were so frightened! But we are very easy now; + are n’t we, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “I am very happy,” said Mary, gravely, and wandered back to the window + again. + </p> + <p> + Roderick came in at this moment and kissed his mother, and then went over + and joined Miss Garland. Rowland sat with Mrs. Hudson, who evidently had a + word which she deemed of some value for his private ear. She followed + Roderick with intensely earnest eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to tell you, sir,” she said, “how very grateful—how very + thankful—what a happy mother I am! I feel as if I owed it all to + you, sir. To find my poor boy so handsome, so prosperous, so elegant, so + famous—and ever to have doubted of you! What must you think of me? + You ‘re our guardian angel, sir. I often say so to Mary.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland wore, in response to this speech, a rather haggard brow. He could + only murmur that he was glad she found Roderick looking well. He had of + course promptly asked himself whether the best discretion dictated that he + should give her a word of warning—just turn the handle of the door + through which, later, disappointment might enter. He had determined to say + nothing, but simply to wait in silence for Roderick to find effective + inspiration in those confidently expectant eyes. It was to be supposed + that he was seeking for it now; he remained sometime at the window with + his cousin. But at last he turned away and came over to the fireside with + a contraction of the eyebrows which seemed to intimate that Miss Garland’s + influence was for the moment, at least, not soothing. She presently + followed him, and for an instant Rowland observed her watching him as if + she thought him strange. “Strange enough,” thought Rowland, “he may seem + to her, if he will!” Roderick directed his glance to his friend with a + certain peremptory air, which—roughly interpreted—was + equivalent to a request to share the intellectual expense of entertaining + the ladies. “Good heavens!” Rowland cried within himself; “is he already + tired of them?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, of course, we must begin to put you through the mill,” + Roderick said to his mother. “And be it hereby known to Mallet that we + count upon him to turn the wheel.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do as you please, my son,” said Mrs. Hudson. “So long as I have + you with me I don’t care where I go. We must not take up too much of Mr. + Mallet’s time.” + </p> + <p> + “His time is inexhaustible; he has nothing under the sun to do. Have you, + Rowland? If you had seen the big hole I have been making in it! Where will + you go first? You have your choice—from the Scala Santa to the + Cloaca Maxima.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us take things in order,” said Rowland. “We will go first to Saint + Peter’s. Miss Garland, I hope you are impatient to see Saint Peter’s.” + </p> + <p> + “I would like to go first to Roderick’s studio,” said Miss Garland. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s a very nasty place,” said Roderick. “At your pleasure!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we must see your beautiful things before we can look contentedly at + anything else,” said Mrs. Hudson. + </p> + <p> + “I have no beautiful things,” said Roderick. “You may see what there is! + What makes you look so odd?” + </p> + <p> + This inquiry was abruptly addressed to his mother, who, in response, + glanced appealingly at Mary and raised a startled hand to her smooth hair. + </p> + <p> + “No, it ‘s your face,” said Roderick. “What has happened to it these two + years? It has changed its expression.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother has prayed a great deal,” said Miss Garland, simply. + </p> + <p> + “I did n’t suppose, of course, it was from doing anything bad! It makes + you a very good face—very interesting, very solemn. It has very fine + lines in it; something might be done with it.” And Rowland held one of the + candles near the poor lady’s head. + </p> + <p> + She was covered with confusion. “My son, my son,” she said with dignity, + “I don’t understand you.” + </p> + <p> + In a flash all his old alacrity had come to him. “I suppose a man may + admire his own mother!” he cried. “If you please, madame, you ‘ll sit to + me for that head. I see it, I see it! I will make something that a queen + can’t get done for her.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland respectfully urged her to assent; he saw Roderick was in the vein + and would probably do something eminently original. She gave her promise, + at last, after many soft, inarticulate protests and a frightened petition + that she might be allowed to keep her knitting. + </p> + <p> + Rowland returned the next day, with plenty of zeal for the part Roderick + had assigned to him. It had been arranged that they should go to Saint + Peter’s. Roderick was in high good-humor, and, in the carriage, was + watching his mother with a fine mixture of filial and professional + tenderness. Mrs. Hudson looked up mistrustfully at the tall, shabby + houses, and grasped the side of the barouche in her hand, as if she were + in a sail-boat, in dangerous waters. Rowland sat opposite to Miss Garland. + She was totally oblivious of her companions; from the moment the carriage + left the hotel, she sat gazing, wide-eyed and absorbed, at the objects + about them. If Rowland had felt disposed he might have made a joke of her + intense seriousness. From time to time he told her the name of a place or + a building, and she nodded, without looking at him. When they emerged into + the great square between Bernini’s colonnades, she laid her hand on Mrs. + Hudson’s arm and sank back in the carriage, staring up at the vast yellow + facade of the church. Inside the church, Roderick gave his arm to his + mother, and Rowland constituted himself the especial guide of Miss + Garland. He walked with her slowly everywhere, and made the entire + circuit, telling her all he knew of the history of the building. This was + a great deal, but she listened attentively, keeping her eyes fixed on the + dome. To Rowland himself it had never seemed so radiantly sublime as at + these moments; he felt almost as if he had contrived it himself and had a + right to be proud of it. He left Miss Garland a while on the steps of the + choir, where she had seated herself to rest, and went to join their + companions. Mrs. Hudson was watching a great circle of tattered contadini, + who were kneeling before the image of Saint Peter. The fashion of their + tatters fascinated her; she stood gazing at them in a sort of terrified + pity, and could not be induced to look at anything else. Rowland went back + to Miss Garland and sat down beside her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think of Europe?” he asked, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I think it ‘s horrible!” she said abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Horrible?” + </p> + <p> + “I feel so strangely—I could almost cry.” + </p> + <p> + “How is it that you feel?” + </p> + <p> + “So sorry for the poor past, that seems to have died here, in my heart, in + an hour!” + </p> + <p> + “But, surely, you ‘re pleased—you ‘re interested.” + </p> + <p> + “I am overwhelmed. Here in a single hour, everything is changed. It is as + if a wall in my mind had been knocked down at a stroke. Before me lies an + immense new world, and it makes the old one, the poor little narrow, + familiar one I have always known, seem pitiful.” + </p> + <p> + “But you did n’t come to Rome to keep your eyes fastened on that narrow + little world. Forget it, turn your back on it, and enjoy all this.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to enjoy it; but as I sat here just now, looking up at that golden + mist in the dome, I seemed to see in it the vague shapes of certain people + and things at home. To enjoy, as you say, as these things demand of one to + enjoy them, is to break with one’s past. And breaking is a pain!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mind the pain, and it will cease to trouble you. Enjoy, enjoy; it + is your duty. Yours especially!” + </p> + <p> + “Why mine especially?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I am very sure that you have a mind capable of doing the most + liberal justice to everything interesting and beautiful. You are extremely + intelligent.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know,” said Miss Garland, simply. + </p> + <p> + “In that matter one feels. I really think that I know better than you. I + don’t want to seem patronizing, but I suspect that your mind is + susceptible of a great development. Give it the best company, trust it, + let it go!” + </p> + <p> + She looked away from him for some moments, down the gorgeous vista of the + great church. “But what you say,” she said at last, “means change!” + </p> + <p> + “Change for the better!” cried Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “How can one tell? As one stands, one knows the worst. It seems to me very + frightful to develop,” she added, with her complete smile. + </p> + <p> + “One is in for it in one way or another, and one might as well do it with + a good grace as with a bad! Since one can’t escape life, it is better to + take it by the hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this what you call life?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by ‘this’?” + </p> + <p> + “Saint Peter’s—all this splendor, all Rome—pictures, ruins, + statues, beggars, monks.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not all of it, but it is a large part of it. All these things are + impregnated with life; they are the fruits of an old and complex + civilization.” + </p> + <p> + “An old and complex civilization: I am afraid I don’t like that.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t conclude on that point just yet. Wait till you have tested it. + While you wait, you will see an immense number of very beautiful things—things + that you are made to understand. They won’t leave you as they found you; + then you can judge. Don’t tell me I know nothing about your understanding. + I have a right to assume it.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Garland gazed awhile aloft in the dome. “I am not sure I understand + that,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I hope, at least, that at a cursory glance it pleases you,” said Rowland. + “You need n’t be afraid to tell the truth. What strikes some people is + that it is so remarkably small.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s large enough; it’s very wonderful. There are things in Rome, + then,” she added in a moment, turning and looking at him, “that are very, + very beautiful?” + </p> + <p> + “Lots of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Some of the most beautiful things in the world?” + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably.” + </p> + <p> + “What are they? which things have most beauty?” + </p> + <p> + “That is according to taste. I should say the statues.” + </p> + <p> + “How long will it take to see them all? to know, at least, something about + them?” + </p> + <p> + “You can see them all, as far as mere seeing goes, in a fortnight. But to + know them is a thing for one’s leisure. The more time you spend among + them, the more you care for them.” After a moment’s hesitation he went on: + “Why should you grudge time? It ‘s all in your way, since you are to be an + artist’s wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought of that,” she said. “It may be that I shall always live + here, among the most beautiful things in the world!” + </p> + <p> + “Very possibly! I should like to see you ten years hence.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say I shall seem greatly altered. But I am sure of one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what?” + </p> + <p> + “That for the most part I shall be quite the same. I ask nothing better + than to believe the fine things you say about my understanding, but even + if they are true, it won’t matter. I shall be what I was made, what I am + now—a young woman from the country! The fruit of a civilization not + old and complex, but new and simple.” + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted to hear it: that ‘s an excellent foundation.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, if you show me anything more, you will not always think so + kindly of it. Therefore I warn you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not frightened. I should like vastly to say something to you: Be + what you are, be what you choose; but do, sometimes, as I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + If Rowland was not frightened, neither, perhaps, was Miss Garland; but she + seemed at least slightly disturbed. She proposed that they should join + their companions. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hudson spoke under her breath; she could not be accused of the want + of reverence sometimes attributed to Protestants in the great Catholic + temples. “Mary, dear,” she whispered, “suppose we had to kiss that + dreadful brass toe. If I could only have kept our door-knocker, at + Northampton, as bright as that! I think it’s so heathenish; but Roderick + says he thinks it ‘s sublime.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick had evidently grown a trifle perverse. “It ‘s sublimer than + anything that your religion asks you to do!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Surely our religion sometimes gives us very difficult duties,” said Miss + Garland. + </p> + <p> + “The duty of sitting in a whitewashed meeting-house and listening to a + nasal Puritan! I admit that ‘s difficult. But it ‘s not sublime. I am + speaking of ceremonies, of forms. It is in my line, you know, to make much + of forms. I think this is a very beautiful one. Could n’t you do it?” he + demanded, looking at his cousin. + </p> + <p> + She looked back at him intently and then shook her head. “I think not!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know; I could n’t!” + </p> + <p> + During this little discussion our four friends were standing near the + venerable image of Saint Peter, and a squalid, savage-looking peasant, a + tattered ruffian of the most orthodox Italian aspect, had been performing + his devotions before it. He turned away, crossing himself, and Mrs. Hudson + gave a little shudder of horror. + </p> + <p> + “After that,” she murmured, “I suppose he thinks he is as good as any one! + And here is another. Oh, what a beautiful person!” + </p> + <p> + A young lady had approached the sacred effigy, after having wandered away + from a group of companions. She kissed the brazen toe, touched it with her + forehead, and turned round, facing our friends. Rowland then recognized + Christina Light. He was stupefied: had she suddenly embraced the Catholic + faith? It was but a few weeks before that she had treated him to a + passionate profession of indifference. Had she entered the church to put + herself en regle with what was expected of a Princess Casamassima? While + Rowland was mentally asking these questions she was approaching him and + his friends, on her way to the great altar. At first she did not perceive + them. + </p> + <p> + Mary Garland had been gazing at her. “You told me,” she said gently, to + Rowland, “that Rome contained some of the most beautiful things in the + world. This surely is one of them!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Christina’s eye met Rowland’s and before giving him any + sign of recognition she glanced rapidly at his companions. She saw + Roderick, but she gave him no bow; she looked at Mrs. Hudson, she looked + at Mary Garland. At Mary Garland she looked fixedly, piercingly, from head + to foot, as the slow pace at which she was advancing made possible. Then + suddenly, as if she had perceived Roderick for the first time, she gave + him a charming nod, a radiant smile. In a moment he was at her side. She + stopped, and he stood talking to her; she continued to look at Miss + Garland. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Roderick knows her!” cried Mrs. Hudson, in an awe-struck whisper. “I + supposed she was some great princess.” + </p> + <p> + “She is—almost!” said Rowland. “She is the most beautiful girl in + Europe, and Roderick has made her bust.” + </p> + <p> + “Her bust? Dear, dear!” murmured Mrs. Hudson, vaguely shocked. “What a + strange bonnet!” + </p> + <p> + “She has very strange eyes,” said Mary, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + The two ladies, with Rowland, began to descend toward the door of the + church. On their way they passed Mrs. Light, the Cavaliere, and the + poodle, and Rowland informed his companions of the relation in which these + personages stood to Roderick’s young lady. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it, Mary!” said Mrs. Hudson. “What splendid people he must know! + No wonder he found Northampton dull!” + </p> + <p> + “I like the poor little old gentleman,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you call him poor?” Rowland asked, struck with the observation. + </p> + <p> + “He seems so!” she answered simply. + </p> + <p> + As they were reaching the door they were overtaken by Roderick, whose + interview with Miss Light had perceptibly brightened his eye. “So you are + acquainted with princesses!” said his mother softly, as they passed into + the portico. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Light is not a princess!” said Roderick, curtly. + </p> + <p> + “But Mr. Mallet says so,” urged Mrs. Hudson, rather disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “I meant that she was going to be!” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s by no means certain that she is even going to be!” Roderick + answered. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Rowland, “I give it up!” + </p> + <p> + Roderick almost immediately demanded that his mother should sit to him, at + his studio, for her portrait, and Rowland ventured to add another word of + urgency. If Roderick’s idea really held him, it was an immense pity that + his inspiration should be wasted; inspiration, in these days, had become + too precious a commodity. It was arranged therefore that, for the present, + during the mornings, Mrs. Hudson should place herself at her son’s + service. This involved but little sacrifice, for the good lady’s appetite + for antiquities was diminutive and bird-like, the usual round of galleries + and churches fatigued her, and she was glad to purchase immunity from + sight-seeing by a regular afternoon drive. It became natural in this way + that, Miss Garland having her mornings free, Rowland should propose to be + the younger lady’s guide in whatever explorations she might be disposed to + make. She said she knew nothing about it, but she had a great curiosity, + and would be glad to see anything that he would show her. Rowland could + not find it in his heart to accuse Roderick of neglect of the young girl; + for it was natural that the inspirations of a capricious man of genius, + when they came, should be imperious; but of course he wondered how Miss + Garland felt, as the young man’s promised wife, on being thus + expeditiously handed over to another man to be entertained. However she + felt, he was certain he would know little about it. There had been, + between them, none but indirect allusions to her engagement, and Rowland + had no desire to discuss it more largely; for he had no quarrel with + matters as they stood. They wore the same delightful aspect through the + lovely month of May, and the ineffable charm of Rome at that period seemed + but the radiant sympathy of nature with his happy opportunity. The weather + was divine; each particular morning, as he walked from his lodging to Mrs. + Hudson’s modest inn, seemed to have a blessing upon it. The elder lady had + usually gone off to the studio, and he found Miss Garland sitting alone at + the open window, turning the leaves of some book of artistic or + antiquarian reference that he had given her. She always had a smile, she + was always eager, alert, responsive. She might be grave by nature, she + might be sad by circumstance, she might have secret doubts and pangs, but + she was essentially young and strong and fresh and able to enjoy. Her + enjoyment was not especially demonstrative, but it was curiously diligent. + Rowland felt that it was not amusement and sensation that she coveted, but + knowledge—facts that she might noiselessly lay away, piece by piece, + in the perfumed darkness of her serious mind, so that, under this head at + least, she should not be a perfectly portionless bride. She never merely + pretended to understand; she let things go, in her modest fashion, at the + moment, but she watched them on their way, over the crest of the hill, and + when her fancy seemed not likely to be missed it went hurrying after them + and ran breathless at their side, as it were, and begged them for the + secret. Rowland took an immense satisfaction in observing that she never + mistook the second-best for the best, and that when she was in the + presence of a masterpiece, she recognized the occasion as a mighty one. + She said many things which he thought very profound—that is, if they + really had the fine intention he suspected. This point he usually tried to + ascertain; but he was obliged to proceed cautiously, for in her + mistrustful shyness it seemed to her that cross-examination must + necessarily be ironical. She wished to know just where she was going—what + she would gain or lose. This was partly on account of a native + intellectual purity, a temper of mind that had not lived with its door + ajar, as one might say, upon the high-road of thought, for passing ideas + to drop in and out at their pleasure; but had made much of a few long + visits from guests cherished and honored—guests whose presence was a + solemnity. But it was even more because she was conscious of a sort of + growing self-respect, a sense of devoting her life not to her own ends, + but to those of another, whose life would be large and brilliant. She had + been brought up to think a great deal of “nature” and nature’s innocent + laws; but now Rowland had spoken to her ardently of culture; her strenuous + fancy had responded, and she was pursuing culture into retreats where the + need for some intellectual effort gave a noble severity to her purpose. + She wished to be very sure, to take only the best, knowing it to be the + best. There was something exquisite in this labor of pious self-adornment, + and Rowland helped it, though its fruits were not for him. In spite of her + lurking rigidity and angularity, it was very evident that a nervous, + impulsive sense of beauty was constantly at play in her soul, and that her + actual experience of beautiful things moved her in some very deep places. + For all that she was not demonstrative, that her manner was simple, and + her small-talk of no very ample flow; for all that, as she had said, she + was a young woman from the country, and the country was West Nazareth, and + West Nazareth was in its way a stubborn little fact, she was feeling the + direct influence of the great amenities of the world, and they were + shaping her with a divinely intelligent touch. “Oh exquisite virtue of + circumstance!” cried Rowland to himself, “that takes us by the hand and + leads us forth out of corners where, perforce, our attitudes are a trifle + contracted, and beguiles us into testing mistrusted faculties!” When he + said to Mary Garland that he wished he might see her ten years hence, he + was paying mentally an equal compliment to circumstance and to the girl + herself. Capacity was there, it could be freely trusted; observation would + have but to sow its generous seed. “A superior woman”—the idea had + harsh associations, but he watched it imaging itself in the vagueness of + the future with a kind of hopeless confidence. + </p> + <p> + They went a great deal to Saint Peter’s, for which Rowland had an + exceeding affection, a large measure of which he succeeded in infusing + into his companion. She confessed very speedily that to climb the long, + low, yellow steps, beneath the huge florid facade, and then to push the + ponderous leathern apron of the door, to find one’s self confronted with + that builded, luminous sublimity, was a sensation of which the keenness + renewed itself with surprising generosity. In those days the hospitality + of the Vatican had not been curtailed, and it was an easy and delightful + matter to pass from the gorgeous church to the solemn company of the + antique marbles. Here Rowland had with his companion a great deal of talk, + and found himself expounding aesthetics a perte de vue. He discovered that + she made notes of her likes and dislikes in a new-looking little + memorandum book, and he wondered to what extent she reported his own + discourse. These were charming hours. The galleries had been so cold all + winter that Rowland had been an exile from them; but now that the sun was + already scorching in the great square between the colonnades, where the + twin fountains flashed almost fiercely, the marble coolness of the long, + image-bordered vistas made them a delightful refuge. The great herd of + tourists had almost departed, and our two friends often found themselves, + for half an hour at a time, in sole and tranquil possession of the + beautiful Braccio Nuovo. Here and there was an open window, where they + lingered and leaned, looking out into the warm, dead air, over the towers + of the city, at the soft-hued, historic hills, at the stately shabby + gardens of the palace, or at some sunny, empty, grass-grown court, lost in + the heart of the labyrinthine pile. They went sometimes into the chambers + painted by Raphael, and of course paid their respects to the Sistine + Chapel; but Mary’s evident preference was to linger among the statues. + Once, when they were standing before that noblest of sculptured portraits, + the so-called Demosthenes, in the Braccio Nuovo, she made the only + spontaneous allusion to her projected marriage, direct or indirect, that + had yet fallen from her lips. “I am so glad,” she said, “that Roderick is + a sculptor and not a painter.” + </p> + <p> + The allusion resided chiefly in the extreme earnestness with which the + words were uttered. Rowland immediately asked her the reason of her + gladness. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s not that painting is not fine,” she said, “but that sculpture is + finer. It is more manly.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland tried at times to make her talk about herself, but in this she had + little skill. She seemed to him so much older, so much more pliant to + social uses than when he had seen her at home, that he had a desire to + draw from her some categorical account of her occupation and thoughts. He + told her his desire and what suggested it. “It appears, then,” she said, + “that, after all, one can grow at home!” + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably, if one has a motive. Your growth, then, was unconscious? + You did not watch yourself and water your roots?” + </p> + <p> + She paid no heed to his question. “I am willing to grant,” she said, “that + Europe is more delightful than I supposed; and I don’t think that, + mentally, I had been stingy. But you must admit that America is better + than you have supposed.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not a fault to find with the country which produced you!” Rowland + thought he might risk this, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “And yet you want me to change—to assimilate Europe, I suppose you + would call it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have felt that desire only on general principles. Shall I tell you what + I feel now? America has made you thus far; let America finish you! I + should like to ship you back without delay and see what becomes of you. + That sounds unkind, and I admit there is a cold intellectual curiosity in + it.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “The charm is broken; the thread is snapped! I prefer + to remain here.” + </p> + <p> + Invariably, when he was inclined to make of something they were talking of + a direct application to herself, she wholly failed to assist him; she made + no response. Whereupon, once, with a spark of ardent irritation, he told + her she was very “secretive.” At this she colored a little, and he said + that in default of any larger confidence it would at least be a + satisfaction to make her confess to that charge. But even this + satisfaction she denied him, and his only revenge was in making, two or + three times afterward, a softly ironical allusion to her slyness. He told + her that she was what is called in French a sournoise. “Very good,” she + answered, almost indifferently, “and now please tell me again—I have + forgotten it—what you said an ‘architrave’ was.” + </p> + <p> + It was on the occasion of her asking him a question of this kind that he + charged her, with a humorous emphasis in which, also, if she had been + curious in the matter, she might have detected a spark of restless ardor, + with having an insatiable avidity for facts. “You are always snatching at + information,” he said; “you will never consent to have any disinterested + conversation.” + </p> + <p> + She frowned a little, as she always did when he arrested their talk upon + something personal. But this time she assented, and said that she knew she + was eager for facts. “One must make hay while the sun shines,” she added. + “I must lay up a store of learning against dark days. Somehow, my + imagination refuses to compass the idea that I may be in Rome + indefinitely.” + </p> + <p> + He knew he had divined her real motives; but he felt that if he might have + said to her—what it seemed impossible to say—that fortune + possibly had in store for her a bitter disappointment, she would have been + capable of answering, immediately after the first sense of pain, “Say then + that I am laying up resources for solitude!” + </p> + <p> + But all the accusations were not his. He had been watching, once, during + some brief argument, to see whether she would take her forefinger out of + her Murray, into which she had inserted it to keep a certain page. It + would have been hard to say why this point interested him, for he had not + the slightest real apprehension that she was dry or pedantic. The simple + human truth was, the poor fellow was jealous of science. In preaching + science to her, he had over-estimated his powers of self-effacement. + Suddenly, sinking science for the moment, she looked at him very frankly + and began to frown. At the same time she let the Murray slide down to the + ground, and he was so charmed with this circumstance that he made no + movement to pick it up. + </p> + <p> + “You are singularly inconsistent, Mr. Mallet,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “That first day that we were in Saint Peter’s you said things that + inspired me. You bade me plunge into all this. I was all ready; I only + wanted a little push; yours was a great one; here I am in mid-ocean! And + now, as a reward for my bravery, you have repeatedly snubbed me.” + </p> + <p> + “Distinctly, then,” said Rowland, “I strike you as inconsistent?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the word.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I have played my part very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Your part? What is your part supposed to have been?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a moment. “That of usefulness, pure and simple.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand you!” she said; and picking up her Murray, she fairly + buried herself in it. + </p> + <p> + That evening he said something to her which necessarily increased her + perplexity, though it was not uttered with such an intention. “Do you + remember,” he asked, “my begging you, the other day, to do occasionally as + I told you? It seemed to me you tacitly consented.” + </p> + <p> + “Very tacitly.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never yet really presumed on your consent. But now I would like + you to do this: whenever you catch me in the act of what you call + inconsistency, ask me the meaning of some architectural term. I will know + what you mean; a word to the wise!” + </p> + <p> + One morning they spent among the ruins of the Palatine, that sunny + desolation of crumbling, over-tangled fragments, half excavated and half + identified, known as the Palace of the Caesars. Nothing in Rome is more + interesting, and no locality has such a confusion of picturesque charms. + It is a vast, rambling garden, where you stumble at every step on the + disinterred bones of the past; where damp, frescoed corridors, relics, + possibly, of Nero’s Golden House, serve as gigantic bowers, and where, in + the springtime, you may sit on a Latin inscription, in the shade of a + flowering almond-tree, and admire the composition of the Campagna. The day + left a deep impression on Rowland’s mind, partly owing to its intrinsic + sweetness, and partly because his companion, on this occasion, let her + Murray lie unopened for an hour, and asked several questions irrelevant to + the Consuls and the Caesars. She had begun by saying that it was coming + over her, after all, that Rome was a ponderously sad place. The sirocco + was gently blowing, the air was heavy, she was tired, she looked a little + pale. + </p> + <p> + “Everything,” she said, “seems to say that all things are vanity. If one + is doing something, I suppose one feels a certain strength within one to + contradict it. But if one is idle, surely it is depressing to live, year + after year, among the ashes of things that once were mighty. If I were to + remain here I should either become permanently ‘low,’ as they say, or I + would take refuge in some dogged daily work.” + </p> + <p> + “What work?” + </p> + <p> + “I would open a school for those beautiful little beggars; though I am + sadly afraid I should never bring myself to scold them.” + </p> + <p> + “I am idle,” said Rowland, “and yet I have kept up a certain spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t call you idle,” she answered with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “It is very good of you. Do you remember our talking about that in + Northampton?” + </p> + <p> + “During that picnic? Perfectly. Has your coming abroad succeeded, for + yourself, as well as you hoped?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I may say that it has turned out as well as I expected.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t I look so?” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems to me. But”—and she hesitated a moment—“I imagine + you look happy whether you are so or not.” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m like that ancient comic mask that we saw just now in yonder + excavated fresco: I am made to grin.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall you come back here next winter?” + </p> + <p> + “Very probably.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you settled here forever?” + </p> + <p> + “‘Forever’ is a long time. I live only from year to year.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall you never marry?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland gave a laugh. “‘Forever’—‘never!’ You handle large ideas. I + have not taken a vow of celibacy.” + </p> + <p> + “Would n’t you like to marry?” + </p> + <p> + “I should like it immensely.” + </p> + <p> + To this she made no rejoinder: but presently she asked, “Why don’t you + write a book?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland laughed, this time more freely. “A book! What book should I + write?” + </p> + <p> + “A history; something about art or antiquities.” + </p> + <p> + “I have neither the learning nor the talent.” + </p> + <p> + She made no attempt to contradict him; she simply said she had supposed + otherwise. “You ought, at any rate,” she continued in a moment, “to do + something for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “For myself? I should have supposed that if ever a man seemed to live for + himself”— + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know how it seems,” she interrupted, “to careless observers. But + we know—we know that you have lived—a great deal—for + us.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice trembled slightly, and she brought out the last words with a + little jerk. + </p> + <p> + “She has had that speech on her conscience,” thought Rowland; “she has + been thinking she owed it to me, and it seemed to her that now was her + time to make it and have done with it.” + </p> + <p> + She went on in a way which confirmed these reflections, speaking with due + solemnity. “You ought to be made to know very well what we all feel. Mrs. + Hudson tells me that she has told you what she feels. Of course Roderick + has expressed himself. I have been wanting to thank you too; I do, from my + heart.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland made no answer; his face at this moment resembled the tragic mask + much more than the comic. But Miss Garland was not looking at him; she had + taken up her Murray again. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon she usually drove with Mrs. Hudson, but Rowland + frequently saw her again in the evening. He was apt to spend half an hour + in the little sitting-room at the hotel-pension on the slope of the + Pincian, and Roderick, who dined regularly with his mother, was present on + these occasions. Rowland saw him little at other times, and for three + weeks no observations passed between them on the subject of Mrs. Hudson’s + advent. To Rowland’s vision, as the weeks elapsed, the benefits to proceed + from the presence of the two ladies remained shrouded in mystery. Roderick + was peculiarly inscrutable. He was preoccupied with his work on his + mother’s portrait, which was taking a very happy turn; and often, when he + sat silent, with his hands in his pockets, his legs outstretched, his head + thrown back, and his eyes on vacancy, it was to be supposed that his fancy + was hovering about the half-shaped image in his studio, exquisite even in + its immaturity. He said little, but his silence did not of necessity imply + disaffection, for he evidently found it a deep personal luxury to lounge + away the hours in an atmosphere so charged with feminine tenderness. He + was not alert, he suggested nothing in the way of excursions (Rowland was + the prime mover in such as were attempted), but he conformed passively at + least to the tranquil temper of the two women, and made no harsh comments + nor sombre allusions. Rowland wondered whether he had, after all, done his + friend injustice in denying him the sentiment of duty. He refused + invitations, to Rowland’s knowledge, in order to dine at the jejune little + table-d’hote; wherever his spirit might be, he was present in the flesh + with religious constancy. Mrs. Hudson’s felicity betrayed itself in a + remarkable tendency to finish her sentences and wear her best black silk + gown. Her tremors had trembled away; she was like a child who discovers + that the shaggy monster it has so long been afraid to touch is an + inanimate terror, compounded of straw and saw-dust, and that it is even a + safe audacity to tickle its nose. As to whether the love-knot of which + Mary Garland had the keeping still held firm, who should pronounce? The + young girl, as we know, did not wear it on her sleeve. She always sat at + the table, near the candles, with a piece of needle-work. This was the + attitude in which Rowland had first seen her, and he thought, now that he + had seen her in several others, it was not the least becoming. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. The Cavaliere + </h2> + <p> + There befell at last a couple of days during which Rowland was unable to + go to the hotel. Late in the evening of the second one Roderick came into + his room. In a few moments he announced that he had finished the bust of + his mother. + </p> + <p> + “And it ‘s magnificent!” he declared. “It ‘s one of the best things I have + done.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it,” said Rowland. “Never again talk to me about your + inspiration being dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? This may be its last kick! I feel very tired. But it ‘s a + masterpiece, though I do say it. They tell us we owe so much to our + parents. Well, I ‘ve paid the filial debt handsomely!” He walked up and + down the room a few moments, with the purpose of his visit evidently still + undischarged. “There ‘s one thing more I want to say,” he presently + resumed. “I feel as if I ought to tell you!” He stopped before Rowland + with his head high and his brilliant glance unclouded. “Your invention is + a failure!” + </p> + <p> + “My invention?” Rowland repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Bringing out my mother and Mary.” + </p> + <p> + “A failure?” + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s no use! They don’t help me.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland had fancied that Roderick had no more surprises for him; but he + was now staring at him, wide-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “They bore me!” Roderick went on. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh!” cried Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, listen!” said Roderick with perfect gentleness. “I am not + complaining of them; I am simply stating a fact. I am very sorry for them; + I am greatly disappointed.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you given them a fair trial?” + </p> + <p> + “Should n’t you say so? It seems to me I have behaved beautifully.” + </p> + <p> + “You have done very well; I have been building great hopes on it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have done too well, then. After the first forty-eight hours my own + hopes collapsed. But I determined to fight it out; to stand within the + temple; to let the spirit of the Lord descend! Do you want to know the + result? Another week of it, and I shall begin to hate them. I shall want + to poison them.” + </p> + <p> + “Miserable boy!” cried Rowland. “They are the loveliest of women!” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely! But they mean no more to me than a Bible text to an + atheist!” + </p> + <p> + “I utterly fail,” said Rowland, in a moment, “to understand your relation + to Miss Garland.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick shrugged his shoulders and let his hands drop at his sides. “She + adores me! That ‘s my relation.” And he smiled strangely. + </p> + <p> + “Have you broken your engagement?” + </p> + <p> + “Broken it? You can’t break a ray of moonshine.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you absolutely no affection for her?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick placed his hand on his heart and held it there a moment. “Dead—dead—dead!” + he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” Rowland asked presently, “if you begin to comprehend the + beauty of Miss Garland’s character. She is a person of the highest merit.” + </p> + <p> + “Evidently—or I would not have cared for her!” + </p> + <p> + “Has that no charm for you now?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t force a fellow to say rude things!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can only say that you don’t know what you are giving up.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick gave a quickened glance. “Do you know, so well?” + </p> + <p> + “I admire her immeasurably.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick smiled, we may almost say sympathetically. “You have not wasted + time.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland’s thoughts were crowding upon him fast. If Roderick was resolute, + why oppose him? If Mary was to be sacrificed, why, in that way, try to + save her? There was another way; it only needed a little presumption to + make it possible. Rowland tried, mentally, to summon presumption to his + aid; but whether it came or not, it found conscience there before it. + Conscience had only three words, but they were cogent. “For her sake—for + her sake,” it dumbly murmured, and Rowland resumed his argument. “I don’t + know what I would n’t do,” he said, “rather than that Miss Garland should + suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing to be said,” Roderick answered reflectively. “She is + very strong.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, if she ‘s strong, believe that with a longer chance, a better + chance, she will still regain your affection.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what you ask?” cried Roderick. “Make love to a girl I hate?” + </p> + <p> + “You hate?” + </p> + <p> + “As her lover, I should hate her!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me!” said Rowland with vehemence. + </p> + <p> + “No, listen you to me! Do you really urge my marrying a woman who would + bore me to death? I would let her know it in very good season, and then + where would she be?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland walked the length of the room a couple of times and then stopped + suddenly. “Go your way, then! Say all this to her, not to me!” + </p> + <p> + “To her? I am afraid of her; I want you to help me.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Roderick,” said Rowland with an eloquent smile, “I can help you + no more!” + </p> + <p> + Roderick frowned, hesitated a moment, and then took his hat. “Oh, well,” + he said, “I am not so afraid of her as all that!” And he turned, as if to + depart. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Rowland, as he laid his hand on the door. + </p> + <p> + Roderick paused and stood waiting, with his irritated brow. + </p> + <p> + “Come back; sit down there and listen to me. Of anything you were to say + in your present state of mind you would live most bitterly to repent. You + don’t know what you really think; you don’t know what you really feel. You + don’t know your own mind; you don’t do justice to Miss Garland. All this + is impossible here, under these circumstances. You ‘re blind, you ‘re + deaf, you ‘re under a spell. To break it, you must leave Rome.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave Rome! Rome was never so dear to me.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s not of the smallest consequence. Leave it instantly.” + </p> + <p> + “And where shall I go?” + </p> + <p> + “Go to some place where you may be alone with your mother and Miss + Garland.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone? You will not come?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you desire it, I will come.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick inclining his head a little, looked at his friend askance. “I + don’t understand you,” he said; “I wish you liked Miss Garland either a + little less, or a little more.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland felt himself coloring, but he paid no heed to Roderick’s speech. + “You ask me to help you,” he went on. “On these present conditions I can + do nothing. But if you will postpone all decision as to the continuance of + your engagement a couple of months longer, and meanwhile leave Rome, leave + Italy, I will do what I can to ‘help you,’ as you say, in the event of + your still wishing to break it.” + </p> + <p> + “I must do without your help then! Your conditions are impossible. I will + leave Rome at the time I have always intended—at the end of June. My + rooms and my mother’s are taken till then; all my arrangements are made + accordingly. Then, I will depart; not before.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not frank,” said Rowland. “Your real reason for staying has + nothing to do with your rooms.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick’s face betrayed neither embarrassment nor resentment. “If I ‘m + not frank, it ‘s for the first time in my life. Since you know so much + about my real reason, let me hear it! No, stop!” he suddenly added, “I + won’t trouble you. You are right, I have a motive. On the twenty-fourth of + June Miss Light is to be married. I take an immense interest in all that + concerns her, and I wish to be present at her wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said the other day at Saint Peter’s that it was by no means + certain her marriage would take place.” + </p> + <p> + “Apparently I was wrong: the invitations, I am told, are going out.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland felt that it would be utterly vain to remonstrate, and that the + only thing for him was to make the best terms possible. “If I offer no + further opposition to your waiting for Miss Light’s marriage,” he said, + “will you promise, meanwhile and afterwards, for a certain period, to + defer to my judgment—to say nothing that may be a cause of suffering + to Miss Garland?” + </p> + <p> + “For a certain period? What period?” Roderick demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, don’t drive so close a bargain! Don’t you understand that I have + taken you away from her, that I suffer in every nerve in consequence, and + that I must do what I can to restore you?” + </p> + <p> + “Do what you can, then,” said Roderick gravely, putting out his hand. “Do + what you can!” His tone and his hand-shake seemed to constitute a promise, + and upon this they parted. + </p> + <p> + Roderick’s bust of his mother, whether or no it was a discharge of what he + called the filial debt, was at least a most admirable production. Rowland, + at the time it was finished, met Gloriani one evening, and this + unscrupulous genius immediately began to ask questions about it. “I am + told our high-flying friend has come down,” he said. “He has been doing a + queer little old woman.” + </p> + <p> + “A queer little old woman!” Rowland exclaimed. “My dear sir, she is + Hudson’s mother.” + </p> + <p> + “All the more reason for her being queer! It is a bust for terra-cotta, + eh?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means; it is for marble.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s a pity. It was described to me as a charming piece of quaintness: + a little demure, thin-lipped old lady, with her head on one side, and the + prettiest wrinkles in the world—a sort of fairy godmother.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and see it, and judge for yourself,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “No, I see I shall be disappointed. It ‘s quite the other thing, the sort + of thing they put into the campo-santos. I wish that boy would listen to + me an hour!” + </p> + <p> + But a day or two later Rowland met him again in the street, and, as they + were near, proposed they should adjourn to Roderick’s studio. He + consented, and on entering they found the young master. Roderick’s + demeanor to Gloriani was never conciliatory, and on this occasion supreme + indifference was apparently all he had to offer. But Gloriani, like a + genuine connoisseur, cared nothing for his manners; he cared only for his + skill. In the bust of Mrs. Hudson there was something almost touching; it + was an exquisite example of a ruling sense of beauty. The poor lady’s + small, neat, timorous face had certainly no great character, but Roderick + had reproduced its sweetness, its mildness, its minuteness, its still + maternal passion, with the most unerring art. It was perfectly + unflattered, and yet admirably tender; it was the poetry of fidelity. + Gloriani stood looking at it a long time most intently. Roderick wandered + away into the neighboring room. + </p> + <p> + “I give it up!” said the sculptor at last. “I don’t understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “But you like it?” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Like it? It ‘s a pearl of pearls. Tell me this,” he added: “is he very + fond of his mother; is he a very good son?” And he gave Rowland a sharp + look. + </p> + <p> + “Why, she adores him,” said Rowland, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s not an answer! But it ‘s none of my business. Only if I, in his + place, being suspected of having—what shall I call it?—a cold + heart, managed to do that piece of work, oh, oh! I should be called a + pretty lot of names. Charlatan, poseur, arrangeur! But he can do as he + chooses! My dear young man, I know you don’t like me,” he went on, as + Roderick came back. “It ‘s a pity; you are strong enough not to care about + me at all. You are very strong.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Roderick curtly. “I am very weak!” + </p> + <p> + “I told you last year that you would n’t keep it up. I was a great ass. + You will!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon—I won’t!” retorted Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “Though I ‘m a great ass, all the same, eh? Well, call me what you will, + so long as you turn out this sort of thing! I don’t suppose it makes any + particular difference, but I should like to say now I believe in you.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick stood looking at him for a moment with a strange hardness in his + face. It flushed slowly, and two glittering, angry tears filled his eyes. + It was the first time Rowland had ever seen them there; he saw them but + once again. Poor Gloriani, he was sure, had never in his life spoken with + less of irony; but to Roderick there was evidently a sense of mockery in + his profession of faith. He turned away with a muttered, passionate + imprecation. Gloriani was accustomed to deal with complex problems, but + this time he was hopelessly puzzled. “What ‘s the matter with him?” he + asked, simply. + </p> + <p> + Rowland gave a sad smile, and touched his forehead. “Genius, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + Gloriani sent another parting, lingering look at the bust of Mrs. Hudson. + “Well, it ‘s deuced perfect, it ‘s deuced simple; I do believe in him!” he + said. “But I ‘m glad I ‘m not a genius. It makes,” he added with a laugh, + as he looked for Roderick to wave him good-by, and saw his back still + turned, “it makes a more sociable studio.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland had purchased, as he supposed, temporary tranquillity for Mary + Garland; but his own humor in these days was not especially peaceful. He + was attempting, in a certain sense, to lead the ideal life, and he found + it, at the least, not easy. The days passed, but brought with them no + official invitation to Miss Light’s wedding. He occasionally met her, and + he occasionally met Prince Casamassima; but always separately, never + together. They were apparently taking their happiness in the inexpressive + manner proper to people of social eminence. Rowland continued to see + Madame Grandoni, for whom he felt a confirmed affection. He had always + talked to her with frankness, but now he made her a confidant of all his + hidden dejection. Roderick and Roderick’s concerns had been a common theme + with him, and it was in the natural course to talk of Mrs. Hudson’s + arrival and Miss Garland’s fine smile. Madame Grandoni was an intelligent + listener, and she lost no time in putting his case for him in a nutshell. + “At one moment you tell me the girl is plain,” she said; “the next you + tell me she ‘s pretty. I will invite them, and I shall see for myself. But + one thing is very clear: you are in love with her.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland, for all answer, glanced round to see that no one heard her. + </p> + <p> + “More than that,” she added, “you have been in love with her these two + years. There was that certain something about you!... I knew you were a + mild, sweet fellow, but you had a touch of it more than was natural. Why + did n’t you tell me at once? You would have saved me a great deal of + trouble. And poor Augusta Blanchard too!” And herewith Madame Grandoni + communicated a pertinent fact: Augusta Blanchard and Mr. Leavenworth were + going to make a match. The young lady had been staying for a month at + Albano, and Mr. Leavenworth had been dancing attendance. The event was a + matter of course. Rowland, who had been lately reproaching himself with a + failure of attention to Miss Blanchard’s doings, made some such + observation. + </p> + <p> + “But you did not find it so!” cried his hostess. “It was a matter of + course, perhaps, that Mr. Leavenworth, who seems to be going about Europe + with the sole view of picking up furniture for his ‘home,’ as he calls it, + should think Miss Blanchard a very handsome piece; but it was not a matter + of course—or it need n’t have been—that she should be willing + to become a sort of superior table-ornament. She would have accepted you + if you had tried.” + </p> + <p> + “You are supposing the insupposable,” said Rowland. “She never gave me a + particle of encouragement.” + </p> + <p> + “What would you have had her do? The poor girl did her best, and I am sure + that when she accepted Mr. Leavenworth she thought of you.” + </p> + <p> + “She thought of the pleasure her marriage would give me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, pleasure indeed! She is a thoroughly good girl, but she has her + little grain of feminine spite, like the rest. Well, he ‘s richer than + you, and she will have what she wants; but before I forgive you I must + wait and see this new arrival—what do you call her?—Miss + Garland. If I like her, I will forgive you; if I don’t, I shall always + bear you a grudge.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland answered that he was sorry to forfeit any advantage she might + offer him, but that his exculpatory passion for Miss Garland was a figment + of her fancy. Miss Garland was engaged to another man, and he himself had + no claims. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said Madame Grandoni, “if I like her, we ‘ll have it that + you ought to be in love with her. If you fail in this, it will be a double + misdemeanor. The man she ‘s engaged to does n’t care a straw for her. + Leave me alone and I ‘ll tell her what I think of you.” + </p> + <p> + As to Christina Light’s marriage, Madame Grandoni could make no definite + statement. The young girl, of late, had made her several flying visits, in + the intervals of the usual pre-matrimonial shopping and dress-fitting; she + had spoken of the event with a toss of her head, as a matter which, with a + wise old friend who viewed things in their essence, she need not pretend + to treat as a solemnity. It was for Prince Casamassima to do that. “It is + what they call a marriage of reason,” she once said. “That means, you + know, a marriage of madness!” + </p> + <p> + “What have you said in the way of advice?” Rowland asked. + </p> + <p> + “Very little, but that little has favored the prince. I know nothing of + the mysteries of the young lady’s heart. It may be a gold-mine, but at any + rate it ‘s a mine, and it ‘s a long journey down into it. But the marriage + in itself is an excellent marriage. It ‘s not only brilliant, but it ‘s + safe. I think Christina is quite capable of making it a means of misery; + but there is no position that would be sacred to her. Casamassima is an + irreproachable young man; there is nothing against him but that he is a + prince. It is not often, I fancy, that a prince has been put through his + paces at this rate. No one knows the wedding-day; the cards of invitation + have been printed half a dozen times over, with a different date; each + time Christina has destroyed them. There are people in Rome who are + furious at the delay; they want to get away; they are in a dreadful fright + about the fever, but they are dying to see the wedding, and if the day + were fixed, they would make their arrangements to wait for it. I think it + very possible that after having kept them a month and produced a dozen + cases of malaria, Christina will be married at midnight by an old friar, + with simply the legal witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true, then, that she has become a Catholic?” + </p> + <p> + “So she tells me. One day she got up in the depths of despair; at her + wit’s end, I suppose, in other words, for a new sensation. Suddenly it + occurred to her that the Catholic church might after all hold the key, + might give her what she wanted! She sent for a priest; he happened to be a + clever man, and he contrived to interest her. She put on a black dress and + a black lace veil, and looking handsomer than ever she rustled into the + Catholic church. The prince, who is very devout, and who had her heresy + sorely on his conscience, was thrown into an ecstasy. May she never have a + caprice that pleases him less!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland had already asked Madame Grandoni what, to her perception, was the + present state of matters between Christina and Roderick; and he now + repeated his question with some earnestness of apprehension. “The girl is + so deucedly dramatic,” he said, “that I don’t know what coup de theatre + she may have in store for us. Such a stroke was her turning Catholic; such + a stroke would be her some day making her courtesy to a disappointed world + as Princess Casamassima, married at midnight, in her bonnet. She might do—she + may do—something that would make even more starers! I ‘m prepared + for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that she might elope with your sculptor, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m prepared for anything!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that he ‘s ready?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that she is?” + </p> + <p> + “They ‘re a precious pair! I think this. You by no means exhaust the + subject when you say that Christina is dramatic. It ‘s my belief that in + the course of her life she will do a certain number of things from pure + disinterested passion. She ‘s immeasurably proud, and if that is often a + fault in a virtuous person, it may be a merit in a vicious one. She needs + to think well of herself; she knows a fine character, easily, when she + meets one; she hates to suffer by comparison, even though the comparison + is made by herself alone; and when the estimate she may have made of + herself grows vague, she needs to do something to give it definite, + impressive form. What she will do in such a case will be better or worse, + according to her opportunity; but I imagine it will generally be something + that will drive her mother to despair; something of the sort usually + termed ‘unworldly.’” + </p> + <p> + Rowland, as he was taking his leave, after some further exchange of + opinions, rendered Miss Light the tribute of a deeply meditative sigh. + “She has bothered me half to death,” he said, “but somehow I can’t manage, + as I ought, to hate her. I admire her, half the time, and a good part of + the rest I pity her.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I most pity her!” said Madame Grandoni. + </p> + <p> + This enlightened woman came the next day to call upon the two ladies from + Northampton. She carried their shy affections by storm, and made them + promise to drink tea with her on the evening of the morrow. Her visit was + an era in the life of poor Mrs. Hudson, who did nothing but make sudden + desultory allusions to her, for the next thirty-six hours. “To think of + her being a foreigner!” she would exclaim, after much intent reflection, + over her knitting; “she speaks so beautifully!” Then in a little while, + “She was n’t so much dressed as you might have expected. Did you notice + how easy it was in the waist? I wonder if that ‘s the fashion?” Or, “She + ‘s very old to wear a hat; I should never dare to wear a hat!” Or, “Did + you notice her hands?—very pretty hands for such a stout person. A + great many rings, but nothing very handsome. I suppose they are + hereditary.” Or, “She ‘s certainly not handsome, but she ‘s very + sweet-looking. I wonder why she does n’t have something done to her + teeth.” Rowland also received a summons to Madame Grandoni’s tea-drinking, + and went betimes, as he had been requested. He was eagerly desirous to + lend his mute applause to Mary Garland’s debut in the Roman social world. + The two ladies had arrived, with Roderick, silent and careless, in + attendance. Miss Blanchard was also present, escorted by Mr. Leavenworth, + and the party was completed by a dozen artists of both sexes and various + nationalities. It was a friendly and easy assembly, like all Madame + Grandoni’s parties, and in the course of the evening there was some + excellent music. People played and sang for Madame Grandoni, on easy + terms, who, elsewhere, were not to be heard for the asking. She was + herself a superior musician, and singers found it a privilege to perform + to her accompaniment. Rowland talked to various persons, but for the first + time in his life his attention visibly wandered; he could not keep his + eyes off Mary Garland. Madame Grandoni had said that he sometimes spoke of + her as pretty and sometimes as plain; to-night, if he had had occasion to + describe her appearance, he would have called her beautiful. She was + dressed more than he had ever seen her; it was becoming, and gave her a + deeper color and an ampler presence. Two or three persons were introduced + to her who were apparently witty people, for she sat listening to them + with her brilliant natural smile. Rowland, from an opposite corner, + reflected that he had never varied in his appreciation of Miss Blanchard’s + classic contour, but that somehow, to-night, it impressed him hardly more + than an effigy stamped upon a coin of low value. Roderick could not be + accused of rancor, for he had approached Mr. Leavenworth with unstudied + familiarity, and, lounging against the wall, with hands in pockets, was + discoursing to him with candid serenity. Now that he had done him an + impertinence, he evidently found him less intolerable. Mr. Leavenworth + stood stirring his tea and silently opening and shutting his mouth, + without looking at the young sculptor, like a large, drowsy dog snapping + at flies. Rowland had found it disagreeable to be told Miss Blanchard + would have married him for the asking, and he would have felt some + embarrassment in going to speak to her if his modesty had not found + incredulity so easy. The facile side of a union with Miss Blanchard had + never been present to his mind; it had struck him as a thing, in all ways, + to be compassed with a great effort. He had half an hour’s talk with her; + a farewell talk, as it seemed to him—a farewell not to a real + illusion, but to the idea that for him, in that matter, there could ever + be an acceptable pis-aller. He congratulated Miss Blanchard upon her + engagement, and she received his compliment with a touch of primness. But + she was always a trifle prim, even when she was quoting Mrs. Browning and + George Sand, and this harmless defect did not prevent her responding on + this occasion that Mr. Leavenworth had a “glorious heart.” Rowland wished + to manifest an extreme regard, but toward the end of the talk his zeal + relaxed, and he fell a-thinking that a certain natural ease in a woman was + the most delightful thing in the world. There was Christina Light, who had + too much, and here was Miss Blanchard, who had too little, and there was + Mary Garland (in whom the quality was wholly uncultivated), who had just + the right amount. + </p> + <p> + He went to Madame Grandoni in an adjoining room, where she was pouring out + tea. + </p> + <p> + “I will make you an excellent cup,” she said, “because I have forgiven + you.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her, answering nothing; but he swallowed his tea with great + gusto, and a slight deepening of his color; by all of which one would have + known that he was gratified. In a moment he intimated that, in so far as + he had sinned, he had forgiven himself. + </p> + <p> + “She is a lovely girl,” said Madame Grandoni. “There is a great deal + there. I have taken a great fancy to her, and she must let me make a + friend of her.” + </p> + <p> + “She is very plain,” said Rowland, slowly, “very simple, very ignorant.” + </p> + <p> + “Which, being interpreted, means, ‘She is very handsome, very subtle, and + has read hundreds of volumes on winter evenings in the country.’” + </p> + <p> + “You are a veritable sorceress,” cried Rowland; “you frighten me away!” As + he was turning to leave her, there rose above the hum of voices in the + drawing-room the sharp, grotesque note of a barking dog. Their eyes met in + a glance of intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “There is the sorceress!” said Madame Grandoni. “The sorceress and her + necromantic poodle!” And she hastened back to the post of hospitality. + </p> + <p> + Rowland followed her, and found Christina Light standing in the middle of + the drawing-room, and looking about in perplexity. Her poodle, sitting on + his haunches and gazing at the company, had apparently been expressing a + sympathetic displeasure at the absence of a welcome. But in a moment + Madame Grandoni had come to the young girl’s relief, and Christina had + tenderly kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “I had no idea,” said Christina, surveying the assembly, “that you had + such a lot of grand people, or I would not have come in. The servant said + nothing; he took me for an invitee. I came to spend a neighborly + half-hour; you know I have n’t many left! It was too dismally dreary at + home. I hoped I should find you alone, and I brought Stenterello to play + with the cat. I don’t know that if I had known about all this I would have + dared to come in; but since I ‘ve stumbled into the midst of it, I beg you + ‘ll let me stay. I am not dressed, but am I very hideous? I will sit in a + corner and no one will notice me. My dear, sweet lady, do let me stay. + Pray, why did n’t you ask me? I never have been to a little party like + this. They must be very charming. No dancing—tea and conversation? + No tea, thank you; but if you could spare a biscuit for Stenterello; a + sweet biscuit, please. Really, why did n’t you ask me? Do you have these + things often? Madame Grandoni, it ‘s very unkind!” And the young girl, who + had delivered herself of the foregoing succession of sentences in her + usual low, cool, penetrating voice, uttered these last words with a + certain tremor of feeling. “I see,” she went on, “I do very well for balls + and great banquets, but when people wish to have a cosy, friendly, + comfortable evening, they leave me out, with the big flower-pots and the + gilt candlesticks.” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m sure you ‘re welcome to stay, my dear,” said Madame Grandoni, “and + at the risk of displeasing you I must confess that if I did n’t invite + you, it was because you ‘re too grand. Your dress will do very well, with + its fifty flounces, and there is no need of your going into a corner. + Indeed, since you ‘re here, I propose to have the glory of it. You must + remain where my people can see you.” + </p> + <p> + “They are evidently determined to do that by the way they stare. Do they + think I intend to dance a tarantella? Who are they all; do I know them?” + And lingering in the middle of the room, with her arm passed into Madame + Grandoni’s, she let her eyes wander slowly from group to group. They were + of course observing her. Standing in the little circle of lamplight, with + the hood of an Eastern burnous, shot with silver threads, falling back + from her beautiful head, one hand gathering together its voluminous, + shimmering folds, and the other playing with the silken top-knot on the + uplifted head of her poodle, she was a figure of radiant picturesqueness. + She seemed to be a sort of extemporized tableau vivant. Rowland’s position + made it becoming for him to speak to her without delay. As she looked at + him he saw that, judging by the light of her beautiful eyes, she was in a + humor of which she had not yet treated him to a specimen. In a simpler + person he would have called it exquisite kindness; but in this young + lady’s deportment the flower was one thing and the perfume another. “Tell + me about these people,” she said to him. “I had no idea there were so many + people in Rome I had not seen. What are they all talking about? It ‘s all + beyond me, I suppose. There is Miss Blanchard, sitting as usual in profile + against a dark object. She is like a head on a postage-stamp. And there is + that nice little old lady in black, Mrs. Hudson. What a dear little woman + for a mother! Comme elle est proprette! And the other, the fiancee, of + course she ‘s here. Ah, I see!” She paused; she was looking intently at + Miss Garland. Rowland measured the intentness of her glance, and suddenly + acquired a firm conviction. “I should like so much to know her!” she said, + turning to Madame Grandoni. “She has a charming face; I am sure she ‘s an + angel. I wish very much you would introduce me. No, on second thoughts, I + had rather you did n’t. I will speak to her bravely myself, as a friend of + her cousin.” Madame Grandoni and Rowland exchanged glances of baffled + conjecture, and Christina flung off her burnous, crumpled it together, + and, with uplifted finger, tossing it into a corner, gave it in charge to + her poodle. He stationed himself upon it, on his haunches, with upright + vigilance. Christina crossed the room with the step and smile of a + ministering angel, and introduced herself to Mary Garland. She had once + told Rowland that she would show him, some day, how gracious her manners + could be; she was now redeeming her promise. Rowland, watching her, saw + Mary Garland rise slowly, in response to her greeting, and look at her + with serious deep-gazing eyes. The almost dramatic opposition of these two + keenly interesting girls touched Rowland with a nameless apprehension, and + after a moment he preferred to turn away. In doing so he noticed Roderick. + The young sculptor was standing planted on the train of a lady’s dress, + gazing across at Christina’s movements with undisguised earnestness. There + were several more pieces of music; Rowland sat in a corner and listened to + them. When they were over, several people began to take their leave, Mrs. + Hudson among the number. Rowland saw her come up to Madame Grandoni, + clinging shyly to Mary Garland’s arm. Miss Garland had a brilliant eye and + a deep color in her cheek. The two ladies looked about for Roderick, but + Roderick had his back turned. He had approached Christina, who, with an + absent air, was sitting alone, where she had taken her place near Miss + Garland, looking at the guests pass out of the room. Christina’s eye, like + Miss Garland’s, was bright, but her cheek was pale. Hearing Roderick’s + voice, she looked up at him sharply; then silently, with a single quick + gesture, motioned him away. He obeyed her, and came and joined his mother + in bidding good night to Madame Grandoni. Christina, in a moment, met + Rowland’s glance, and immediately beckoned him to come to her. He was + familiar with her spontaneity of movement, and was scarcely surprised. She + made a place for him on the sofa beside her; he wondered what was coming + now. He was not sure it was not a mere fancy, but it seemed to him that he + had never seen her look just as she was looking then. It was a humble, + touching, appealing look, and it threw into wonderful relief the nobleness + of her beauty. “How many more metamorphoses,” he asked himself, “am I to + be treated to before we have done?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to tell you,” said Christina. “I have taken an immense fancy to + Miss Garland. Are n’t you glad?” + </p> + <p> + “Delighted!” exclaimed poor Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you don’t believe it,” she said with soft dignity. + </p> + <p> + “Is it so hard to believe?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that people in general should admire her, but that I should. But I + want to tell you; I want to tell some one, and I can’t tell Miss Garland + herself. She thinks me already a horrid false creature, and if I were to + express to her frankly what I think of her, I should simply disgust her. + She would be quite right; she has repose, and from that point of view I + and my doings must seem monstrous. Unfortunately, I have n’t repose. I am + trembling now; if I could ask you to feel my arm, you would see! But I + want to tell you that I admire Miss Garland more than any of the people + who call themselves her friends—except of course you. Oh, I know + that! To begin with, she is extremely handsome, and she does n’t know it.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not generally thought handsome,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Evidently! That ‘s the vulgarity of the human mind. Her head has great + character, great natural style. If a woman is not to be a supreme beauty + in the regular way, she will choose, if she ‘s wise, to look like that. + She ‘ll not be thought pretty by people in general, and desecrated, as she + passes, by the stare of every vile wretch who chooses to thrust his nose + under her bonnet; but a certain number of superior people will find it one + of the delightful things of life to look at her. That lot is as good as + another! Then she has a beautiful character!” + </p> + <p> + “You found that out soon!” said Rowland, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “How long did it take you? I found it out before I ever spoke to her. I + met her the other day in Saint Peter’s; I knew it then. I knew it—do + you want to know how long I have known it?” + </p> + <p> + “Really,” said Rowland, “I did n’t mean to cross-examine you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember mamma’s ball in December? We had some talk and you then + mentioned her—not by name. You said but three words, but I saw you + admired her, and I knew that if you admired her she must have a beautiful + character. That ‘s what you require!” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” cried Rowland, “you make three words go very far!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Hudson has also spoken of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that ‘s better!” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know; he does n’t like her.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he tell you so?” The question left Rowland’s lips before he could + stay it, which he would have done on a moment’s reflection. + </p> + <p> + Christina looked at him intently. “No!” she said at last. “That would have + been dishonorable, would n’t it? But I know it from my knowledge of him. + He does n’t like perfection; he is not bent upon being safe, in his + likings; he ‘s willing to risk something! Poor fellow, he risks too much!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland was silent; he did not care for the thrust; but he was profoundly + mystified. Christina beckoned to her poodle, and the dog marched stiffly + across to her. She gave a loving twist to his rose-colored top-knot, and + bade him go and fetch her burnous. He obeyed, gathered it up in his teeth, + and returned with great solemnity, dragging it along the floor. + </p> + <p> + “I do her justice. I do her full justice,” she went on, with soft + earnestness. “I like to say that, I like to be able to say it. She ‘s full + of intelligence and courage and devotion. She does n’t do me a grain of + justice; but that is no harm. There is something so fine in the aversions + of a good woman!” + </p> + <p> + “If you would give Miss Garland a chance,” said Rowland, “I am sure she + would be glad to be your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by a chance? She has only to take it. I told her I liked + her immensely, and she frowned as if I had said something disgusting. She + looks very handsome when she frowns.” Christina rose, with these words, + and began to gather her mantle about her. “I don’t often like women,” she + went on. “In fact I generally detest them. But I should like to know Miss + Garland well. I should like to have a friendship with her; I have never + had one; they must be very delightful. But I shan’t have one now, either—not + if she can help it! Ask her what she thinks of me; see what she will say. + I don’t want to know; keep it to yourself. It ‘s too sad. So we go through + life. It ‘s fatality—that ‘s what they call it, is n’t it? We please + the people we don’t care for, we displease those we do! But I appreciate + her, I do her justice; that ‘s the more important thing. It ‘s because I + have imagination. She has none. Never mind; it ‘s her only fault. I do her + justice; I understand very well.” She kept softly murmuring and looking + about for Madame Grandoni. She saw the good lady near the door, and put + out her hand to Rowland for good night. She held his hand an instant, + fixing him with her eyes, the living splendor of which, at this moment, + was something transcendent. “Yes, I do her justice,” she repeated. “And + you do her more; you would lay down your life for her.” With this she + turned away, and before he could answer, she left him. She went to Madame + Grandoni, grasped her two hands, and held out her forehead to be kissed. + The next moment she was gone. + </p> + <p> + “That was a happy accident!” said Madame Grandoni. “She never looked so + beautiful, and she made my little party brilliant.” + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful, verily!” Rowland answered. “But it was no accident.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it, then?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a plan. She wished to see Miss Garland. She knew she was to be + here.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “By Roderick, evidently.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did she wish to see Miss Garland?” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows! I give it up!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the wicked girl!” murmured Madame Grandoni. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Rowland; “don’t say that now. She ‘s too beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you men! The best of you!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” cried Rowland, “she ‘s too good!” + </p> + <p> + The opportunity presenting itself the next day, he failed not, as you may + imagine, to ask Mary Garland what she thought of Miss Light. It was a + Saturday afternoon, the time at which the beautiful marbles of the Villa + Borghese are thrown open to the public. Mary had told him that Roderick + had promised to take her to see them, with his mother, and he joined the + party in the splendid Casino. The warm weather had left so few strangers + in Rome that they had the place almost to themselves. Mrs. Hudson had + confessed to an invincible fear of treading, even with the help of her + son’s arm, the polished marble floors, and was sitting patiently on a + stool, with folded hands, looking shyly, here and there, at the undraped + paganism around her. Roderick had sauntered off alone, with an irritated + brow, which seemed to betray the conflict between the instinct of + observation and the perplexities of circumstance. Miss Garland was + wandering in another direction, and though she was consulting her + catalogue, Rowland fancied it was from habit; she too was preoccupied. He + joined her, and she presently sat down on a divan, rather wearily, and + closed her Murray. Then he asked her abruptly how Christina had pleased + her. + </p> + <p> + She started the least bit at the question, and he felt that she had been + thinking of Christina. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like her!” she said with decision. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of her?” + </p> + <p> + “I think she ‘s false.” This was said without petulance or bitterness, but + with a very positive air. + </p> + <p> + “But she wished to please you; she tried,” Rowland rejoined, in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I think not. She wished to please herself!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland felt himself at liberty to say no more. No allusion to Christina + had passed between them since the day they met her at Saint Peter’s, but + he knew that she knew, by that infallible sixth sense of a woman who + loves, that this strange, beautiful girl had the power to injure her. To + what extent she had the will, Mary was uncertain; but last night’s + interview, apparently, had not reassured her. It was, under these + circumstances, equally unbecoming for Rowland either to depreciate or to + defend Christina, and he had to content himself with simply having + verified the girl’s own assurance that she had made a bad impression. He + tried to talk of indifferent matters—about the statues and the + frescoes; but to-day, plainly, aesthetic curiosity, with Miss Garland, had + folded its wings. Curiosity of another sort had taken its place. Mary was + longing, he was sure, to question him about Christina; but she found a + dozen reasons for hesitating. Her questions would imply that Roderick had + not treated her with confidence, for information on this point should + properly have come from him. They would imply that she was jealous, and to + betray her jealousy was intolerable to her pride. For some minutes, as she + sat scratching the brilliant pavement with the point of her umbrella, it + was to be supposed that her pride and her anxiety held an earnest debate. + At last anxiety won. + </p> + <p> + “A propos of Miss Light,” she asked, “do you know her well?” + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly say that. But I have seen her repeatedly.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you like her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes and no. I think I am sorry for her.” + </p> + <p> + Mary had spoken with her eyes on the pavement. At this she looked up. + “Sorry for her? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—she is unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “What are her misfortunes?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—she has a horrible mother, and she has had a most injurious + education.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Miss Garland was silent. Then, “Is n’t she very beautiful?” + she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s measured by what men think! She is extremely clever, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, incontestably.” + </p> + <p> + “She has beautiful dresses.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, any number of them.” + </p> + <p> + “And beautiful manners.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “And plenty of money.” + </p> + <p> + “Money enough, apparently.” + </p> + <p> + “And she receives great admiration.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true.” + </p> + <p> + “And she is to marry a prince.” + </p> + <p> + “So they say.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Garland rose and turned to rejoin her companions, commenting these + admissions with a pregnant silence. “Poor Miss Light!” she said at last, + simply. And in this it seemed to Rowland there was a touch of bitterness. + </p> + <p> + Very late on the following evening his servant brought him the card of a + visitor. He was surprised at a visit at such an hour, but it may be said + that when he read the inscription—Cavaliere Giuseppe Giacosa—his + surprise declined. He had had an unformulated conviction that there was to + be a sequel to the apparition at Madame Grandoni’s; the Cavaliere had come + to usher it in. + </p> + <p> + He had come, evidently, on a portentous errand. He was as pale as ashes + and prodigiously serious; his little cold black eye had grown ardent, and + he had left his caressing smile at home. He saluted Rowland, however, with + his usual obsequious bow. + </p> + <p> + “You have more than once done me the honor to invite me to call upon you,” + he said. “I am ashamed of my long delay, and I can only say to you, + frankly, that my time this winter has not been my own.” Rowland assented, + ungrudgingly fumbled for the Italian correlative of the adage “Better late + than never,” begged him to be seated, and offered him a cigar. The + Cavaliere sniffed imperceptibly the fragrant weed, and then declared that, + if his kind host would allow him, he would reserve it for consumption at + another time. He apparently desired to intimate that the solemnity of his + errand left him no breath for idle smoke-puffings. Rowland stayed himself, + just in time, from an enthusiastic offer of a dozen more cigars, and, as + he watched the Cavaliere stow his treasure tenderly away in his + pocket-book, reflected that only an Italian could go through such a + performance with uncompromised dignity. “I must confess,” the little old + man resumed, “that even now I come on business not of my own—or my + own, at least, only in a secondary sense. I have been dispatched as an + ambassador, an envoy extraordinary, I may say, by my dear friend Mrs. + Light.” + </p> + <p> + “If I can in any way be of service to Mrs. Light, I shall be happy,” + Rowland said. + </p> + <p> + “Well then, dear sir, Casa Light is in commotion. The signora is in + trouble—in terrible trouble.” For a moment Rowland expected to hear + that the signora’s trouble was of a nature that a loan of five thousand + francs would assuage. But the Cavaliere continued: “Miss Light has + committed a great crime; she has plunged a dagger into the heart of her + mother.” + </p> + <p> + “A dagger!” cried Rowland. + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere patted the air an instant with his finger-tips. “I speak + figuratively. She has broken off her marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Broken it off?” + </p> + <p> + “Short! She has turned the prince from the door.” And the Cavaliere, when + he had made this announcement, folded his arms and bent upon Rowland his + intense, inscrutable gaze. It seemed to Rowland that he detected in the + polished depths of it a sort of fantastic gleam of irony or of triumph; + but superficially, at least, Giacosa did nothing to discredit his + character as a presumably sympathetic representative of Mrs. Light’s + affliction. + </p> + <p> + Rowland heard his news with a kind of fierce disgust; it seemed the + sinister counterpart of Christina’s preternatural mildness at Madame + Grandoni’s tea-party. She had been too plausible to be honest. Without + being able to trace the connection, he yet instinctively associated her + present rebellion with her meeting with Mary Garland. If she had not seen + Mary, she would have let things stand. It was monstrous to suppose that + she could have sacrificed so brilliant a fortune to a mere movement of + jealousy, to a refined instinct of feminine deviltry, to a desire to + frighten poor Mary from her security by again appearing in the field. Yet + Rowland remembered his first impression of her; she was “dangerous,” and + she had measured in each direction the perturbing effect of her rupture. + She was smiling her sweetest smile at it! For half an hour Rowland simply + detested her, and longed to denounce her to her face. Of course all he + could say to Giacosa was that he was extremely sorry. “But I am not + surprised,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “You are not surprised?” + </p> + <p> + “With Miss Light everything is possible. Is n’t that true?” + </p> + <p> + Another ripple seemed to play for an instant in the current of the old + man’s irony, but he waived response. “It was a magnificent marriage,” he + said, solemnly. “I do not respect many people, but I respect Prince + Casamassima.” + </p> + <p> + “I should judge him indeed to be a very honorable young man,” said + Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Eh, young as he is, he ‘s made of the old stuff. And now, perhaps he ‘s + blowing his brains out. He is the last of his house; it ‘s a great house. + But Miss Light will have put an end to it!” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the view she takes of it?” Rowland ventured to ask. + </p> + <p> + This time, unmistakably, the Cavaliere smiled, but still in that very + out-of-the-way place. “You have observed Miss Light with attention,” he + said, “and this brings me to my errand. Mrs. Light has a high opinion of + your wisdom, of your kindness, and she has reason to believe you have + influence with her daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “I—with her daughter? Not a grain!” + </p> + <p> + “That is possibly your modesty. Mrs. Light believes that something may yet + be done, and that Christina will listen to you. She begs you to come and + see her before it is too late.” + </p> + <p> + “But all this, my dear Cavaliere, is none of my business,” Rowland + objected. “I can’t possibly, in such a matter, take the responsibility of + advising Miss Light.” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere fixed his eyes for a moment on the floor, in brief but + intense reflection. Then looking up, “Unfortunately,” he said, “she has no + man near her whom she respects; she has no father!” + </p> + <p> + “And a fatally foolish mother!” Rowland gave himself the satisfaction of + exclaiming. + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere was so pale that he could not easily have turned paler; yet + it seemed for a moment that his dead complexion blanched. “Eh, signore, + such as she is, the mother appeals to you. A very handsome woman—disheveled, + in tears, in despair, in dishabille!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland reflected a moment, not on the attractions of Mrs. Light under the + circumstances thus indicated by the Cavaliere, but on the satisfaction he + would take in accusing Christina to her face of having struck a cruel + blow. + </p> + <p> + “I must add,” said the Cavaliere, “that Mrs. Light desires also to speak + to you on the subject of Mr. Hudson.” + </p> + <p> + “She considers Mr. Hudson, then, connected with this step of her + daughter’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Intimately. He must be got out of Rome.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Light, then, must get an order from the Pope to remove him. It ‘s + not in my power.” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere assented, deferentially. “Mrs. Light is equally helpless. + She would leave Rome to-morrow, but Christina will not budge. An order + from the Pope would do nothing. A bull in council would do nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “She ‘s a remarkable young lady,” said Rowland, with bitterness. + </p> + <p> + But the Cavaliere rose and responded coldly, “She has a great spirit.” And + it seemed to Rowland that her great spirit, for mysterious reasons, gave + him more pleasure than the distressing use she made of it gave him pain. + He was on the point of charging him with his inconsistency, when Giacosa + resumed: “But if the marriage can be saved, it must be saved. It ‘s a + beautiful marriage. It will be saved.” + </p> + <p> + “Notwithstanding Miss Light’s great spirit to the contrary?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Light, notwithstanding her great spirit, will call Prince + Casamassima back.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven grant it!” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” said the Cavaliere, solemnly, “that heaven will have much + to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland gave him a questioning look, but he laid his finger on his lips. + And with Rowland’s promise to present himself on the morrow at Casa Light, + he shortly afterwards departed. He left Rowland revolving many things: + Christina’s magnanimity, Christina’s perversity, Roderick’s contingent + fortune, Mary Garland’s certain trouble, and the Cavaliere’s own fine + ambiguities. + </p> + <p> + Rowland’s promise to the Cavaliere obliged him to withdraw from an + excursion which he had arranged with the two ladies from Northampton. + Before going to Casa Light he repaired in person to Mrs. Hudson’s hotel, + to make his excuses. + </p> + <p> + He found Roderick’s mother sitting with tearful eyes, staring at an open + note that lay in her lap. At the window sat Miss Garland, who turned her + intense regard upon him as he came in. Mrs. Hudson quickly rose and came + to him, holding out the note. + </p> + <p> + “In pity’s name,” she cried, “what is the matter with my boy? If he is + ill, I entreat you to take me to him!” + </p> + <p> + “He is not ill, to my knowledge,” said Rowland. “What have you there?” + </p> + <p> + “A note—a dreadful note. He tells us we are not to see him for a + week. If I could only go to his room! But I am afraid, I am afraid!” + </p> + <p> + “I imagine there is no need of going to his room. What is the occasion, + may I ask, of his note?” + </p> + <p> + “He was to have gone with us on this drive to—what is the place?—to + Cervara. You know it was arranged yesterday morning. In the evening he was + to have dined with us. But he never came, and this morning arrives this + awful thing. Oh dear, I ‘m so excited! Would you mind reading it?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland took the note and glanced at its half-dozen lines. “I cannot go to + Cervara,” they ran; “I have something else to do. This will occupy me + perhaps for a week, and you ‘ll not see me. Don’t miss me—learn not + to miss me. R. H.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it means,” Rowland commented, “that he has taken up a piece of work, + and that it is all-absorbing. That ‘s very good news.” This explanation + was not sincere; but he had not the courage not to offer it as a stop-gap. + But he found he needed all his courage to maintain it, for Miss Garland + had left her place and approached him, formidably unsatisfied. + </p> + <p> + “He does not work in the evening,” said Mrs. Hudson. “Can’t he come for + five minutes? Why does he write such a cruel, cold note to his poor mother—to + poor Mary? What have we done that he acts so strangely? It ‘s this wicked, + infectious, heathenish place!” And the poor lady’s suppressed mistrust of + the Eternal City broke out passionately. “Oh, dear Mr. Mallet,” she went + on, “I am sure he has the fever and he ‘s already delirious!” + </p> + <p> + “I am very sure it ‘s not that,” said Miss Garland, with a certain + dryness. + </p> + <p> + She was still looking at Rowland; his eyes met hers, and his own glance + fell. This made him angry, and to carry off his confusion he pretended to + be looking at the floor, in meditation. After all, what had he to be + ashamed of? For a moment he was on the point of making a clean breast of + it, of crying out, “Dearest friends, I abdicate: I can’t help you!” But he + checked himself; he felt so impatient to have his three words with + Christina. He grasped his hat. + </p> + <p> + “I will see what it is!” he cried. And then he was glad he had not + abdicated, for as he turned away he glanced again at Mary and saw that, + though her eyes were full of trouble, they were not hard and accusing, but + charged with appealing friendship. + </p> + <p> + He went straight to Roderick’s apartment, deeming this, at an early hour, + the safest place to seek him. He found him in his sitting-room, which had + been closely darkened to keep out the heat. The carpets and rugs had been + removed, the floor of speckled concrete was bare and lightly sprinkled + with water. Here and there, over it, certain strongly perfumed flowers had + been scattered. Roderick was lying on his divan in a white dressing-gown, + staring up at the frescoed ceiling. The room was deliciously cool, and + filled with the moist, sweet odor of the circumjacent roses and violets. + All this seemed highly fantastic, and yet Rowland hardly felt surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Your mother was greatly alarmed at your note,” he said, “and I came to + satisfy myself that, as I believed, you are not ill.” Roderick lay + motionless, except that he slightly turned his head toward his friend. He + was smelling a large white rose, and he continued to present it to his + nose. In the darkness of the room he looked exceedingly pale, but his + handsome eyes had an extraordinary brilliancy. He let them rest for some + time on Rowland, lying there like a Buddhist in an intellectual swoon, + whose perception should be slowly ebbing back to temporal matters. “Oh, I + ‘m not ill,” he said at last. “I have never been better.” + </p> + <p> + “Your note, nevertheless, and your absence,” Rowland said, “have very + naturally alarmed your mother. I advise you to go to her directly and + reassure her.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to her? Going to her would be worse than staying away. Staying away at + present is a kindness.” And he inhaled deeply his huge rose, looking up + over it at Rowland. “My presence, in fact, would be indecent.” + </p> + <p> + “Indecent? Pray explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you see, as regards Mary Garland. I am divinely happy! Does n’t it + strike you? You ought to agree with me. You wish me to spare her feelings; + I spare them by staying away. Last night I heard something”— + </p> + <p> + “I heard it, too,” said Rowland with brevity. “And it ‘s in honor of this + piece of news that you have taken to your bed in this fashion?” + </p> + <p> + “Extremes meet! I can’t get up for joy.” + </p> + <p> + “May I inquire how you heard your joyous news?—from Miss Light + herself?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means. It was brought me by her maid, who is in my service as + well.” + </p> + <p> + “Casamassima’s loss, then, is to a certainty your gain?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t talk about certainties. I don’t want to be arrogant, I don’t want + to offend the immortal gods. I ‘m keeping very quiet, but I can’t help + being happy. I shall wait a while; I shall bide my time.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “And then that transcendent girl will confess to me that when she threw + overboard her prince she remembered that I adored her!” + </p> + <p> + “I feel bound to tell you,” was in the course of a moment Rowland’s + response to this speech, “that I am now on my way to Mrs. Light’s.” + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you, I envy you!” Roderick murmured, imperturbably. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Light has sent for me to remonstrate with her daughter, with whom + she has taken it into her head that I have influence. I don’t know to what + extent I shall remonstrate, but I give you notice I shall not speak in + your interest.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick looked at him a moment with a lazy radiance in his eyes. “Pray + don’t!” he simply answered. + </p> + <p> + “You deserve I should tell her you are a very shabby fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Rowland, the comfort with you is that I can trust you. You ‘re + incapable of doing anything disloyal.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to lie here, then, smelling your roses and nursing your visions, + and leaving your mother and Miss Garland to fall ill with anxiety?” + </p> + <p> + “Can I go and flaunt my felicity in their faces? Wait till I get used to + it a trifle. I have done them a palpable wrong, but I can at least forbear + to add insult to injury. I may be an arrant fool, but, for the moment, I + have taken it into my head to be prodigiously pleased. I should n’t be + able to conceal it; my pleasure would offend them; so I lock myself up as + a dangerous character.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can only say, ‘May your pleasure never grow less, or your danger + greater!’” + </p> + <p> + Roderick closed his eyes again, and sniffed at his rose. “God’s will be + done!” + </p> + <p> + On this Rowland left him and repaired directly to Mrs. Light’s. This + afflicted lady hurried forward to meet him. Since the Cavaliere’s report + of her condition she had somewhat smoothed and trimmed the exuberance of + her distress, but she was evidently in extreme tribulation, and she + clutched Rowland by his two hands, as if, in the shipwreck of her hopes, + he were her single floating spar. Rowland greatly pitied her, for there is + something respectable in passionate grief, even in a very bad cause; and + as pity is akin to love, he endured her rather better than he had done + hitherto. + </p> + <p> + “Speak to her, plead with her, command her!” she cried, pressing and + shaking his hands. “She ‘ll not heed us, no more than if we were a pair of + clocks a-ticking. Perhaps she will listen to you; she always liked you.” + </p> + <p> + “She always disliked me,” said Rowland. “But that does n’t matter now. I + have come here simply because you sent for me, not because I can help you. + I cannot advise your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, cruel, deadly man! You must advise her; you shan’t leave this house + till you have advised her!” the poor woman passionately retorted. “Look at + me in my misery and refuse to help me! Oh, you need n’t be afraid, I know + I ‘m a fright, I have n’t an idea what I have on. If this goes on, we may + both as well turn scarecrows. If ever a woman was desperate, frantic, + heart-broken, I am that woman. I can’t begin to tell you. To have + nourished a serpent, sir, all these years! to have lavished one’s self + upon a viper that turns and stings her own poor mother! To have toiled and + prayed, to have pushed and struggled, to have eaten the bread of + bitterness, and all the rest of it, sir—and at the end of all things + to find myself at this pass. It can’t be, it ‘s too cruel, such things + don’t happen, the Lord don’t allow it. I ‘m a religious woman, sir, and + the Lord knows all about me. With his own hand he had given me his reward! + I would have lain down in the dust and let her walk over me; I would have + given her the eyes out of my head, if she had taken a fancy to them. No, + she ‘s a cruel, wicked, heartless, unnatural girl! I speak to you, Mr. + Mallet, in my dire distress, as to my only friend. There is n’t a creature + here that I can look to—not one of them all that I have faith in. + But I always admired you. I said to Christina the first time I saw you + that there at last was a real gentleman. Come, don’t disappoint me now! I + feel so terribly alone, you see; I feel what a nasty, hard, heartless + world it is that has come and devoured my dinners and danced to my + fiddles, and yet that has n’t a word to throw to me in my agony! Oh, the + money, alone, that I have put into this thing, would melt the heart of a + Turk!” + </p> + <p> + During this frenzied outbreak Rowland had had time to look round the room, + and to see the Cavaliere sitting in a corner, like a major-domo on the + divan of an antechamber, pale, rigid, and inscrutable. + </p> + <p> + “I have it at heart to tell you,” Rowland said, “that if you consider my + friend Hudson”— + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Light gave a toss of her head and hands. “Oh, it ‘s not that. She + told me last night to bother her no longer with Hudson, Hudson! She did + n’t care a button for Hudson. I almost wish she did; then perhaps one + might understand it. But she does n’t care for anything in the wide world, + except to do her own hard, wicked will, and to crush me and shame me with + her cruelty.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then,” said Rowland, “I am as much at sea as you, and my presence + here is an impertinence. I should like to say three words to Miss Light on + my own account. But I must absolutely and inexorably decline to urge the + cause of Prince Casamassima. This is simply impossible.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Light burst into angry tears. “Because the poor boy is a prince, eh? + because he ‘s of a great family, and has an income of millions, eh? That + ‘s why you grudge him and hate him. I knew there were vulgar people of + that way of feeling, but I did n’t expect it of you. Make an effort, Mr. + Mallet; rise to the occasion; forgive the poor fellow his splendor. Be + just, be reasonable! It ‘s not his fault, and it ‘s not mine. He ‘s the + best, the kindest young man in the world, and the most correct and moral + and virtuous! If he were standing here in rags, I would say it all the + same. The man first—the money afterwards: that was always my motto, + and always will be. What do you take me for? Do you suppose I would give + Christina to a vicious person? do you suppose I would sacrifice my + precious child, little comfort as I have in her, to a man against whose + character one word could be breathed? Casamassima is only too good, he ‘s + a saint of saints, he ‘s stupidly good! There is n’t such another in the + length and breadth of Europe. What he has been through in this house, not + a common peasant would endure. Christina has treated him as you would n’t + treat a dog. He has been insulted, outraged, persecuted! He has been + driven hither and thither till he did n’t know where he was. He has stood + there where you stand—there, with his name and his millions and his + devotion—as white as your handkerchief, with hot tears in his eyes, + and me ready to go down on my knees to him and say, ‘My own sweet prince, + I could kiss the ground you tread on, but it is n’t decent that I should + allow you to enter my house and expose yourself to these horrors again.’ + And he would come back, and he would come back, and go through it all + again, and take all that was given him, and only want the girl the more! I + was his confidant; I know everything. He used to beg my forgiveness for + Christina. What do you say to that? I seized him once and kissed him, I + did! To find that and to find all the rest with it, and to believe it was + a gift straight from the pitying angels of heaven, and then to see it + dashed away before your eyes and to stand here helpless—oh, it ‘s a + fate I hope you may ever be spared!” + </p> + <p> + “It would seem, then, that in the interest of Prince Casamassima himself I + ought to refuse to interfere,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Light looked at him hard, slowly drying her eyes. The intensity of + her grief and anger gave her a kind of majesty, and Rowland, for the + moment, felt ashamed of the ironical ring of his observation. “Very good, + sir,” she said. “I ‘m sorry your heart is not so tender as your + conscience. My compliments to your conscience! It must give you great + happiness. Heaven help me! Since you fail us, we are indeed driven to the + wall. But I have fought my own battles before, and I have never lost + courage, and I don’t see why I should break down now. Cavaliere, come + here!” + </p> + <p> + Giacosa rose at her summons and advanced with his usual deferential + alacrity. He shook hands with Rowland in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mallet refuses to say a word,” Mrs. Light went on. “Time presses, + every moment is precious. Heaven knows what that poor boy may be doing. If + at this moment a clever woman should get hold of him she might be as ugly + as she pleased! It ‘s horrible to think of it.” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere fixed his eyes on Rowland, and his look, which the night + before had been singular, was now most extraordinary. There was a nameless + force of anguish in it which seemed to grapple with the young man’s + reluctance, to plead, to entreat, and at the same time to be glazed over + with a reflection of strange things. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, though most vaguely, Rowland felt the presence of a new element + in the drama that was going on before him. He looked from the Cavaliere to + Mrs. Light, whose eyes were now quite dry, and were fixed in stony + hardness on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “If you could bring yourself,” the Cavaliere said, in a low, soft, + caressing voice, “to address a few words of solemn remonstrance to Miss + Light, you would, perhaps, do more for us than you know. You would save + several persons a great pain. The dear signora, first, and then Christina + herself. Christina in particular. Me too, I might take the liberty to + add!” + </p> + <p> + There was, to Rowland, something acutely touching in this humble petition. + He had always felt a sort of imaginative tenderness for poor little + unexplained Giacosa, and these words seemed a supreme contortion of the + mysterious obliquity of his life. All of a sudden, as he watched the + Cavaliere, something occurred to him; it was something very odd, and it + stayed his glance suddenly from again turning to Mrs. Light. His idea + embarrassed him, and to carry off his embarrassment, he repeated that it + was folly to suppose that his words would have any weight with Christina. + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere stepped forward and laid two fingers on Rowland’s breast. + “Do you wish to know the truth? You are the only man whose words she + remembers.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland was going from surprise to surprise. “I will say what I can!” he + said. By this time he had ventured to glance at Mrs. Light. She was + looking at him askance, as if, upon this, she was suddenly mistrusting his + motives. + </p> + <p> + “If you fail,” she said sharply, “we have something else! But please to + lose no time.” + </p> + <p> + She had hardly spoken when the sound of a short, sharp growl caused the + company to turn. Christina’s fleecy poodle stood in the middle of the vast + saloon, with his muzzle lowered, in pompous defiance of the three + conspirators against the comfort of his mistress. This young lady’s claims + for him seemed justified; he was an animal of amazingly delicate + instincts. He had preceded Christina as a sort of van-guard of defense, + and she now slowly advanced from a neighboring room. + </p> + <p> + “You will be so good as to listen to Mr. Mallet,” her mother said, in a + terrible voice, “and to reflect carefully upon what he says. I suppose you + will admit that he is disinterested. In half an hour you shall hear from + me again!” And passing her hand through the Cavaliere’s arm, she swept + rapidly out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Christina looked hard at Rowland, but offered him no greeting. She was + very pale, and, strangely enough, it at first seemed to Rowland that her + beauty was in eclipse. But he very soon perceived that it had only changed + its character, and that if it was a trifle less brilliant than usual, it + was admirably touching and noble. The clouded light of her eyes, the + magnificent gravity of her features, the conscious erectness of her head, + might have belonged to a deposed sovereign or a condemned martyr. “Why + have you come here at this time?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Your mother sent for me in pressing terms, and I was very glad to have an + opportunity to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you come to help me, or to persecute me?” + </p> + <p> + “I have as little power to do one as I have desire to do the other. I came + in great part to ask you a question. First, your decision is irrevocable?” + </p> + <p> + Christina’s two hands had been hanging clasped in front of her; she + separated them and flung them apart by an admirable gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Would you have done this if you had not seen Miss Garland?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with quickened attention; then suddenly, “This is + interesting!” she cried. “Let us have it out.” And she flung herself into + a chair and pointed to another. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t answer my question,” Rowland said. + </p> + <p> + “You have no right, that I know of, to ask it. But it ‘s a very clever + one; so clever that it deserves an answer. Very likely I would not.” + </p> + <p> + “Last night, when I said that to myself, I was extremely angry,” Rowland + rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, and you are not angry now?” + </p> + <p> + “I am less angry.” + </p> + <p> + “How very stupid! But you can say something at least.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were to say what is uppermost in my mind, I would say that, face to + face with you, it is never possible to condemn you.” + </p> + <p> + “Perche?” + </p> + <p> + “You know, yourself! But I can at least say now what I felt last night. It + seemed to me that you had consciously, cruelly dealt a blow at that poor + girl. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment!” And with her eyes fixed on him, she inclined her head on + one side, meditatively. Then a cold, brilliant smile covered her face, and + she made a gesture of negation. “I see your train of reasoning, but it ‘s + quite wrong. I meant no harm to Miss Garland; I should be extremely sorry + to make her suffer. Tell me you believe that.” + </p> + <p> + This was said with ineffable candor. Rowland heard himself answering, “I + believe it!” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, in a sense, your supposition was true,” Christina continued. “I + conceived, as I told you, a great admiration for Miss Garland, and I + frankly confess I was jealous of her. What I envied her was simply her + character! I said to myself, ‘She, in my place, would n’t marry + Casamassima.’ I could not help saying it, and I said it so often that I + found a kind of inspiration in it. I hated the idea of being worse than + she—of doing something that she would n’t do. I might be bad by + nature, but I need n’t be by volition. The end of it all was that I found + it impossible not to tell the prince that I was his very humble servant, + but that I could not marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure it was only of Miss Garland’s character that you were + jealous, not of—not of”— + </p> + <p> + “Speak out, I beg you. We are talking philosophy!” + </p> + <p> + “Not of her affection for her cousin?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure is a good deal to ask. Still, I think I may say it! There are two + reasons; one, at least, I can tell you: her affection has not a shadow’s + weight with Mr. Hudson! Why then should one fear it?” + </p> + <p> + “And what is the other reason?” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me; that is my own affair.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland was puzzled, baffled, charmed, inspired, almost, all at once. “I + have promised your mother,” he presently resumed, “to say something in + favor of Prince Casamassima.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head sadly. “Prince Casamassima needs nothing that you can + say for him. He is a magnificent parti. I know it perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “You know also of the extreme affliction of your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Her affliction is demonstrative. She has been abusing me for the last + twenty-four hours as if I were the vilest of the vile.” To see Christina + sit there in the purity of her beauty and say this, might have made one + bow one’s head with a kind of awe. “I have failed of respect to her at + other times, but I have not done so now. Since we are talking philosophy,” + she pursued with a gentle smile, “I may say it ‘s a simple matter! I don’t + love him. Or rather, perhaps, since we are talking philosophy, I may say + it ‘s not a simple matter. I spoke just now of inspiration. The + inspiration has been great, but—I frankly confess it—the + choice has been hard. Shall I tell you?” she demanded, with sudden ardor; + “will you understand me? It was on the one side the world, the splendid, + beautiful, powerful, interesting world. I know what that is; I have tasted + of the cup, I know its sweetness. Ah, if I chose, if I let myself go, if I + flung everything to the winds, the world and I would be famous friends! I + know its merits, and I think, without vanity, it would see mine. You would + see some fine things! I should like to be a princess, and I think I should + be a very good one; I would play my part well. I am fond of luxury, I am + fond of a great society, I am fond of being looked at. I am corrupt, + corruptible, corruption! Ah, what a pity that could n’t be, too! Mercy of + Heaven!” There was a passionate tremor in her voice; she covered her face + with her hands and sat motionless. Rowland saw that an intense agitation, + hitherto successfully repressed, underlay her calmness, and he could + easily believe that her battle had been fierce. She rose quickly and + turned away, walked a few paces, and stopped. In a moment she was facing + him again, with tears in her eyes and a flush in her cheeks. “But you need + n’t think I ‘m afraid!” she said. “I have chosen, and I shall hold to it. + I have something here, here, here!” and she patted her heart. “It ‘s my + own. I shan’t part with it. Is it what you call an ideal? I don’t know; I + don’t care! It is brighter than the Casamassima diamonds!” + </p> + <p> + “You say that certain things are your own affair,” Rowland presently + rejoined; “but I must nevertheless make an attempt to learn what all this + means—what it promises for my friend Hudson. Is there any hope for + him?” + </p> + <p> + “This is a point I can’t discuss with you minutely. I like him very much.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you marry him if he were to ask you?” + </p> + <p> + “He has asked me.” + </p> + <p> + “And if he asks again?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall marry no one just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Roderick,” said Rowland, “has great hopes.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he know of my rupture with the prince?” + </p> + <p> + “He is making a great holiday of it.” + </p> + <p> + Christina pulled her poodle towards her and began to smooth his silky + fleece. “I like him very much,” she repeated; “much more than I used to. + Since you told me all that about him at Saint Cecilia’s, I have felt a + great friendship for him. There ‘s something very fine about him; he ‘s + not afraid of anything. He is not afraid of failure; he is not afraid of + ruin or death.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” said Rowland, bitterly; “he is fatally picturesque.” + </p> + <p> + “Picturesque, yes; that ‘s what he is. I am very sorry for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother told me just now that you had said that you did n’t care a + straw for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely! I meant as a lover. One does n’t want a lover one pities, + and one does n’t want—of all things in the world—a picturesque + husband! I should like Mr. Hudson as something else. I wish he were my + brother, so that he could never talk to me of marriage. Then I could adore + him. I would nurse him, I would wait on him and save him all disagreeable + rubs and shocks. I am much stronger than he, and I would stand between him + and the world. Indeed, with Mr. Hudson for my brother, I should be willing + to live and die an old maid!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever told him all this?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so; I ‘ve told him five hundred things! If it would please you, + I will tell him again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Heaven forbid!” cried poor Rowland, with a groan. + </p> + <p> + He was lingering there, weighing his sympathy against his irritation, and + feeling it sink in the scale, when the curtain of a distant doorway was + lifted and Mrs. Light passed across the room. She stopped half-way, and + gave the young persons a flushed and menacing look. It found apparently + little to reassure her, and she moved away with a passionate toss of her + drapery. Rowland thought with horror of the sinister compulsion to which + the young girl was to be subjected. In this ethereal flight of hers there + was a certain painful effort and tension of wing; but it was none the less + piteous to imagine her being rudely jerked down to the base earth she was + doing her adventurous utmost to spurn. She would need all her magnanimity + for her own trial, and it seemed gross to make further demands upon it on + Roderick’s behalf. + </p> + <p> + Rowland took up his hat. “You asked a while ago if I had come to help + you,” he said. “If I knew how I might help you, I should be particularly + glad.” + </p> + <p> + She stood silent a moment, reflecting. Then at last, looking up, “You + remember,” she said, “your promising me six months ago to tell me what you + finally thought of me? I should like you to tell me now.” + </p> + <p> + He could hardly help smiling. Madame Grandoni had insisted on the fact + that Christina was an actress, though a sincere one; and this little + speech seemed a glimpse of the cloven foot. She had played her great + scene, she had made her point, and now she had her eye at the hole in the + curtain and she was watching the house! But she blushed as she perceived + his smile, and her blush, which was beautiful, made her fault venial. + </p> + <p> + “You are an excellent girl!” he said, in a particular tone, and gave her + his hand in farewell. + </p> + <p> + There was a great chain of rooms in Mrs. Light’s apartment, the pride and + joy of the hostess on festal evenings, through which the departing visitor + passed before reaching the door. In one of the first of these Rowland + found himself waylaid and arrested by the distracted lady herself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well?” she cried, seizing his arm. “Has she listened to you—have + you moved her?” + </p> + <p> + “In Heaven’s name, dear madame,” Rowland begged, “leave the poor girl + alone! She is behaving very well!” + </p> + <p> + “Behaving very well? Is that all you have to tell me? I don’t believe you + said a proper word to her. You are conspiring together to kill me!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland tried to soothe her, to remonstrate, to persuade her that it was + equally cruel and unwise to try to force matters. But she answered him + only with harsh lamentations and imprecations, and ended by telling him + that her daughter was her property, not his, and that his interference was + most insolent and most scandalous. Her disappointment seemed really to + have crazed her, and his only possible rejoinder was to take a summary + departure. + </p> + <p> + A moment later he came upon the Cavaliere, who was sitting with his elbows + on his knees and his head in his hands, so buried in thought that Rowland + had to call him before he roused himself. Giacosa looked at him a moment + keenly, and then gave a shake of the head, interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + Rowland gave a shake negative, to which the Cavaliere responded by a long, + melancholy sigh. “But her mother is determined to force matters,” said + Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “It seems that it must be!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you consider that it must be?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t differ with Mrs. Light!” + </p> + <p> + “It will be a great cruelty!” + </p> + <p> + The Cavaliere gave a tragic shrug. “Eh! it is n’t an easy world.” + </p> + <p> + “You should do nothing to make it harder, then.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you have? It ‘s a magnificent marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “You disappoint me, Cavaliere,” said Rowland, solemnly. “I imagined you + appreciated the great elevation of Miss Light’s attitude. She does n’t + love the prince; she has let the matter stand or fall by that.” + </p> + <p> + The old man grasped him by the hand and stood a moment with averted eyes. + At last, looking at him, he held up two fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I have two hearts,” he said, “one for myself, one for the world. This one + opposes Miss Light, the other adores her! One suffers horribly at what the + other does.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand double people, Cavaliere,” Rowland said, “and I don’t + pretend to understand you. But I have guessed that you are going to play + some secret card.” + </p> + <p> + “The card is Mrs. Light’s, not mine,” said the Cavaliere. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s a menace, at any rate?” + </p> + <p> + “The sword of Damocles! It hangs by a hair. Christina is to be given ten + minutes to recant, under penalty of having it fall. On the blade there is + something written in strange characters. Don’t scratch your head; you will + not make it out.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I have guessed it,” Rowland said, after a pregnant silence. The + Cavaliere looked at him blankly but intently, and Rowland added, “Though + there are some signs, indeed, I don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Puzzle them out at your leisure,” said the Cavaliere, shaking his hand. + “I hear Mrs. Light; I must go to my post. I wish you were a Catholic; I + would beg you to step into the first church you come to, and pray for us + the next half-hour.” + </p> + <p> + “For ‘us’? For whom?” + </p> + <p> + “For all of us. At any rate remember this: I worship the Christina!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland heard the rustle of Mrs. Light’s dress; he turned away, and the + Cavaliere went, as he said, to his post. Rowland for the next couple of + days pondered his riddle. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. Mrs. Hudson + </h2> + <p> + Of Roderick, meanwhile, Rowland saw nothing; but he immediately went to + Mrs. Hudson and assured her that her son was in even exceptionally good + health and spirits. After this he called again on the two ladies from + Northampton, but, as Roderick’s absence continued, he was able neither to + furnish nor to obtain much comfort. Miss Garland’s apprehensive face + seemed to him an image of his own state of mind. He was profoundly + depressed; he felt that there was a storm in the air, and he wished it + would come, without more delay, and perform its ravages. On the afternoon + of the third day he went into Saint Peter’s, his frequent resort whenever + the outer world was disagreeable. From a heart-ache to a Roman rain there + were few importunate pains the great church did not help him to forget. He + had wandered there for half an hour, when he came upon a short figure, + lurking in the shadow of one of the great piers. He saw it was that of an + artist, hastily transferring to his sketch-book a memento of some fleeting + variation in the scenery of the basilica; and in a moment he perceived + that the artist was little Sam Singleton. + </p> + <p> + Singleton pocketed his sketch-book with a guilty air, as if it cost his + modesty a pang to be detected in this greedy culture of opportunity. + Rowland always enjoyed meeting him; talking with him, in these days, was + as good as a wayside gush of clear, cold water, on a long, hot walk. There + was, perhaps, no drinking-vessel, and you had to apply your lips to some + simple natural conduit; but the result was always a sense of extreme moral + refreshment. On this occasion he mentally blessed the ingenuous little + artist, and heard presently with keen regret that he was to leave Rome on + the morrow. Singleton had come to bid farewell to Saint Peter’s, and he + was gathering a few supreme memories. He had earned a purse-full of money, + and he was meaning to take a summer’s holiday; going to Switzerland, to + Germany, to Paris. In the autumn he was to return home; his family—composed, + as Rowland knew, of a father who was cashier in a bank and five unmarried + sisters, one of whom gave lyceum-lectures on woman’s rights, the whole + resident at Buffalo, New York—had been writing him peremptory + letters and appealing to him as a son, brother, and fellow-citizen. He + would have been grateful for another year in Rome, but what must be must + be, and he had laid up treasure which, in Buffalo, would seem infinite. + They talked some time; Rowland hoped they might meet in Switzerland, and + take a walk or two together. Singleton seemed to feel that Buffalo had + marked him for her own; he was afraid he should not see Rome again for + many a year. + </p> + <p> + “So you expect to live at Buffalo?” Rowland asked sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it will depend upon the views—upon the attitude—of my + family,” Singleton replied. “Oh, I think I shall get on; I think it can be + done. If I find it can be done, I shall really be quite proud of it; as an + artist of course I mean, you know. Do you know I have some nine hundred + sketches? I shall live in my portfolio. And so long as one is not in Rome, + pray what does it matter where one is? But how I shall envy all you Romans—you + and Mr. Gloriani, and Mr. Hudson, especially!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t envy Hudson; he has nothing to envy.” + </p> + <p> + Singleton grinned at what he considered a harmless jest. “Yes, he ‘s going + to be the great man of our time! And I say, Mr. Mallet, is n’t it a mighty + comfort that it ‘s we who have turned him out?” + </p> + <p> + “Between ourselves,” said Rowland, “he has disappointed me.” + </p> + <p> + Singleton stared, open-mouthed. “Dear me, what did you expect?” + </p> + <p> + “Truly,” said Rowland to himself, “what did I expect?” + </p> + <p> + “I confess,” cried Singleton, “I can’t judge him rationally. He fascinates + me; he ‘s the sort of man one makes one’s hero of.” + </p> + <p> + “Strictly speaking, he is not a hero,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + Singleton looked intensely grave, and, with almost tearful eyes, “Is there + anything amiss—anything out of the way, about him?” he timidly + asked. Then, as Rowland hesitated to reply, he quickly added, “Please, if + there is, don’t tell me! I want to know no evil of him, and I think I + should hardly believe it. In my memories of this Roman artist-life, he + will be the central figure. He will stand there in radiant relief, as + beautiful and unspotted as one of his own statues!” + </p> + <p> + “Amen!” said Rowland, gravely. He remembered afresh that the sea is + inhabited by big fishes and little, and that the latter often find their + way down the throats of the former. Singleton was going to spend the + afternoon in taking last looks at certain other places, and Rowland + offered to join him on his sentimental circuit. But as they were preparing + to leave the church, he heard himself suddenly addressed from behind. + Turning, he beheld a young woman whom he immediately recognized as Madame + Grandoni’s maid. Her mistress was present, she said, and begged to confer + with him before he departed. + </p> + <p> + This summons obliged Rowland to separate from Singleton, to whom he bade + farewell. He followed the messenger, and presently found Madame Grandoni + occupying a liberal area on the steps of the tribune, behind the great + altar, where, spreading a shawl on the polished red marble, she had + comfortably seated herself. He expected that she had something especial to + impart, and she lost no time in bringing forth her treasure. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t shout very loud,” she said, “remember that we are in church; there + ‘s a limit to the noise one may make even in Saint Peter’s. Christina + Light was married this morning to Prince Casamassima.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland did not shout at all; he gave a deep, short murmur: “Married—this + morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Married this morning, at seven o’clock, le plus tranquillement du monde, + before three or four persons. The young couple left Rome an hour + afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + For some moments this seemed to him really terrible; the dark little drama + of which he had caught a glimpse had played itself out. He had believed + that Christina would resist; that she had succumbed was a proof that the + pressure had been cruel. Rowland’s imagination followed her forth with an + irresistible tremor into the world toward which she was rolling away, with + her detested husband and her stifled ideal; but it must be confessed that + if the first impulse of his compassion was for Christina, the second was + for Prince Casamassima. Madame Grandoni acknowledged an extreme curiosity + as to the secret springs of these strange doings: Casamassima’s sudden + dismissal, his still more sudden recall, the hurried private marriage. + “Listen,” said Rowland, hereupon, “and I will tell you something.” And he + related, in detail, his last visit to Mrs. Light and his talk with this + lady, with Christina, and with the Cavaliere. + </p> + <p> + “Good,” she said; “it ‘s all very curious. But it ‘s a riddle, and I only + half guess it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Rowland, “I desire to harm no one; but certain suppositions + have taken shape in my mind which serve as a solvent to several + ambiguities.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very true,” Madame Grandoni answered, “that the Cavaliere, as he + stands, has always needed to be explained.” + </p> + <p> + “He is explained by the hypothesis that, three-and-twenty years ago, at + Ancona, Mrs. Light had a lover.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Ancona was dull, Mrs. Light was lively, and—three-and-twenty + years ago—perhaps, the Cavaliere was fascinating. Doubtless it would + be fairer to say that he was fascinated. Poor Giacosa!” + </p> + <p> + “He has had his compensation,” Rowland said. “He has been passionately + fond of Christina.” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. But has Christina never wondered why?” + </p> + <p> + “If she had been near guessing, her mother’s shabby treatment of him would + have put her off the scent. Mrs. Light’s conscience has apparently told + her that she could expiate an hour’s too great kindness by twenty years’ + contempt. So she kept her secret. But what is the profit of having a + secret unless you can make some use of it? The day at last came when she + could turn hers to account; she could let the skeleton out of the closet + and create a panic.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I morally,” said Rowland. “I only conceive that there was a + horrible, fabulous scene. The poor Cavaliere stood outside, at the door, + white as a corpse and as dumb. The mother and daughter had it out + together. Mrs. Light burnt her ships. When she came out she had three + lines of writing in her daughter’s hand, which the Cavaliere was + dispatched with to the prince. They overtook the young man in time, and, + when he reappeared, he was delighted to dispense with further waiting. I + don’t know what he thought of the look in his bride’s face; but that is + how I roughly reconstruct history.” + </p> + <p> + “Christina was forced to decide, then, that she could not afford not to be + a princess?” + </p> + <p> + “She was reduced by humiliation. She was assured that it was not for her + to make conditions, but to thank her stars that there were none made for + her. If she persisted, she might find it coming to pass that there would + be conditions, and the formal rupture—the rupture that the world + would hear of and pry into—would then proceed from the prince and + not from her.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s all nonsense!” said Madame Grandoni, energetically. + </p> + <p> + “To us, yes; but not to the proudest girl in the world, deeply wounded in + her pride, and not stopping to calculate probabilities, but muffling her + shame, with an almost sensuous relief, in a splendor that stood within her + grasp and asked no questions. Is it not possible that the late Mr. Light + had made an outbreak before witnesses who are still living?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly her marriage now,” said Madame Grandoni, less analytically, + “has the advantage that it takes her away from her—parents!” + </p> + <p> + This lady’s farther comments upon the event are not immediately pertinent + to our history; there were some other comments of which Rowland had a + deeply oppressive foreboding. He called, on the evening of the morrow upon + Mrs. Hudson, and found Roderick with the two ladies. Their companion had + apparently but lately entered, and Rowland afterwards learned that it was + his first appearance since the writing of the note which had so distressed + his mother. He had flung himself upon a sofa, where he sat with his chin + upon his breast, staring before him with a sinister spark in his eye. He + fixed his gaze on Rowland, but gave him no greeting. He had evidently been + saying something to startle the women; Mrs. Hudson had gone and seated + herself, timidly and imploringly, on the edge of the sofa, trying to take + his hand. Miss Garland was applying herself to some needlework with + conscious intentness. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hudson gave Rowland, on his entrance, a touching look of gratitude. + “Oh, we have such blessed news!” she said. “Roderick is ready to leave + Rome.” + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s not blessed news; it ‘s most damnable news!” cried Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but we are very glad, my son, and I am sure you will be when you get + away. You ‘re looking most dreadfully thin; is n’t he, Mr. Mallet? It ‘s + plain enough you need a change. I ‘m sure we will go wherever you like. + Where would you like to go?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick turned his head slowly and looked at her. He had let her take his + hand, which she pressed tenderly between her own. He gazed at her for some + time in silence. “Poor mother!” he said at last, in a portentous tone. + </p> + <p> + “My own dear son!” murmured Mrs. Hudson in all the innocence of her trust. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care a straw where you go! I don’t care a straw for anything!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear boy, you must not say that before all of us here—before + Mary, before Mr. Mallet!” + </p> + <p> + “Mary—Mr. Mallet?” Roderick repeated, almost savagely. He released + himself from the clasp of his mother’s hand and turned away, leaning his + elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. There was a + silence; Rowland said nothing because he was watching Miss Garland. “Why + should I stand on ceremony with Mary and Mr. Mallet?” Roderick presently + added. “Mary pretends to believe I ‘m a fine fellow, and if she believes + it as she ought to, nothing I can say will alter her opinion. Mallet knows + I ‘m a hopeless humbug; so I need n’t mince my words with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear, don’t use such dreadful language!” said Mrs. Hudson. “Are + n’t we all devoted to you, and proud of you, and waiting only to hear what + you want, so that we may do it?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick got up, and began to walk about the room; he was evidently in a + restless, reckless, profoundly demoralized condition. Rowland felt that it + was literally true that he did not care a straw for anything, but he + observed with anxiety that Mrs. Hudson, who did not know on what delicate + ground she was treading, was disposed to chide him caressingly, as a mere + expression of tenderness. He foresaw that she would bring down the + hovering thunderbolt on her head. + </p> + <p> + “In God’s name,” Roderick cried, “don’t remind me of my obligations! It ‘s + intolerable to me, and I don’t believe it ‘s pleasant to Mallet. I know + they ‘re tremendous—I know I shall never repay them. I ‘m bankrupt! + Do you know what that means?” + </p> + <p> + The poor lady sat staring, dismayed, and Rowland angrily interfered. + “Don’t talk such stuff to your mother!” he cried. “Don’t you see you ‘re + frightening her?” + </p> + <p> + “Frightening her? she may as well be frightened first as last. Do I + frighten you, mother?” Roderick demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Roderick, what do you mean?” whimpered the poor lady. “Mr. Mallet, + what does he mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that I ‘m an angry, savage, disappointed, miserable man!” Roderick + went on. “I mean that I can’t do a stroke of work nor think a profitable + thought! I mean that I ‘m in a state of helpless rage and grief and shame! + Helpless, helpless—that ‘s what it is. You can’t help me, poor + mother—not with kisses, nor tears, nor prayers! Mary can’t help me—not + for all the honor she does me, nor all the big books on art that she pores + over. Mallet can’t help me—not with all his money, nor all his good + example, nor all his friendship, which I ‘m so profoundly well aware of: + not with it all multiplied a thousand times and repeated to all eternity! + I thought you would help me, you and Mary; that ‘s why I sent for you. But + you can’t, don’t think it! The sooner you give up the idea the better for + you. Give up being proud of me, too; there ‘s nothing left of me to be + proud of! A year ago I was a mighty fine fellow; but do you know what has + become of me now? I have gone to the devil!” + </p> + <p> + There was something in the ring of Roderick’s voice, as he uttered these + words, which sent them home with convincing force. He was not talking for + effect, or the mere sensuous pleasure of extravagant and paradoxical + utterance, as had often enough been the case ere this; he was not even + talking viciously or ill-humoredly. He was talking passionately, + desperately, and from an irresistible need to throw off the oppressive + burden of his mother’s confidence. His cruel eloquence brought the poor + lady to her feet, and she stood there with clasped hands, petrified and + voiceless. Mary Garland quickly left her place, came straight to Roderick, + and laid her hand on his arm, looking at him with all her tormented heart + in her eyes. He made no movement to disengage himself; he simply shook his + head several times, in dogged negation of her healing powers. Rowland had + been living for the past month in such intolerable expectancy of disaster + that now that the ice was broken, and the fatal plunge taken, his foremost + feeling was almost elation; but in a moment his orderly instincts and his + natural love of superficial smoothness overtook it. + </p> + <p> + “I really don’t see, Roderick,” he said, “the profit of your talking in + just this way at just this time. Don’t you see how you are making your + mother suffer?” + </p> + <p> + “Do I enjoy it myself?” cried Roderick. “Is the suffering all on your side + and theirs? Do I look as if I were happy, and were stirring you up with a + stick for my amusement? Here we all are in the same boat; we might as well + understand each other! These women must know that I ‘m not to be counted + on. That sounds remarkably cool, no doubt, and I certainly don’t deny your + right to be utterly disgusted with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you keep what you have got to say till another time,” said Mary, + “and let me hear it alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I ‘ll let you hear it as often as you please; but what ‘s the use of + keeping it? I ‘m in the humor; it won’t keep! It ‘s a very simple matter. + I ‘m a failure, that ‘s all; I ‘m not a first-rate man. I ‘m second-rate, + tenth-rate, anything you please. After that, it ‘s all one!” + </p> + <p> + Mary Garland turned away and buried her face in her hands; but Roderick, + struck, apparently, in some unwonted fashion with her gesture, drew her + towards him again, and went on in a somewhat different tone. “It ‘s hardly + worth while we should have any private talk about this, Mary,” he said. + “The thing would be comfortable for neither of us. It ‘s better, after + all, that it be said once for all and dismissed. There are things I can’t + talk to you about. Can I, at least? You are such a queer creature!” + </p> + <p> + “I can imagine nothing you should n’t talk to me about,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “You are not afraid?” he demanded, sharply, looking at her. + </p> + <p> + She turned away abruptly, with lowered eyes, hesitating a moment. + “Anything you think I should hear, I will hear,” she said. And then she + returned to her place at the window and took up her work. + </p> + <p> + “I have had a great blow,” said Roderick. “I was a great ass, but it does + n’t make the blow any easier to bear.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mallet, tell me what Roderick means!” said Mrs. Hudson, who had found + her voice, in a tone more peremptory than Rowland had ever heard her use. + </p> + <p> + “He ought to have told you before,” said Roderick. “Really, Rowland, if + you will allow me to say so, you ought! You could have given a much better + account of all this than I myself; better, especially, in that it would + have been more lenient to me. You ought to have let them down gently; it + would have saved them a great deal of pain. But you always want to keep + things so smooth! Allow me to say that it ‘s very weak of you.” + </p> + <p> + “I hereby renounce such weakness!” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what is it, sir; what is it?” groaned Mrs. Hudson, insistently. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s what Roderick says: he ‘s a failure!” + </p> + <p> + Mary Garland, on hearing this declaration, gave Rowland a single glance + and then rose, laid down her work, and walked rapidly out of the room. + Mrs. Hudson tossed her head and timidly bristled. “This from you, Mr. + Mallet!” she said with an injured air which Rowland found harrowing. + </p> + <p> + But Roderick, most characteristically, did not in the least resent his + friend’s assertion; he sent him, on the contrary, one of those large, + clear looks of his, which seemed to express a stoical pleasure in + Rowland’s frankness, and which set his companion, then and there, + wondering again, as he had so often done before, at the extraordinary + contradictions of his temperament. “My dear mother,” Roderick said, “if + you had had eyes that were not blinded by this sad maternal vanity, you + would have seen all this for yourself; you would have seen that I ‘m + anything but prosperous.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it anything about money?” cried Mrs. Hudson. “Oh, do write to Mr. + Striker!” + </p> + <p> + “Money?” said Roderick. “I have n’t a cent of money; I ‘m bankrupt!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Mallet, how could you let him?” asked Mrs. Hudson, terribly. + </p> + <p> + “Everything I have is at his service,” said Rowland, feeling ill. + </p> + <p> + “Of course Mr. Mallet will help you, my son!” cried the poor lady, + eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, leave Mr. Mallet alone!” said Roderick. “I have squeezed him dry; it + ‘s not my fault, at least, if I have n’t!” + </p> + <p> + “Roderick, what have you done with all your money?” his mother demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Thrown it away! It was no such great amount. I have done nothing this + winter.” + </p> + <p> + “You have done nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “I have done no work! Why in the world did n’t you guess it and spare me + all this? Could n’t you see I was idle, distracted, dissipated?” + </p> + <p> + “Dissipated, my dear son?” Mrs. Hudson repeated. + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s over for the present! But could n’t you see—could n’t Mary + see—that I was in a damnably bad way?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt Miss Garland saw,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Mary has said nothing!” cried Mrs. Hudson. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she ‘s a fine girl!” Rowland said. + </p> + <p> + “Have you done anything that will hurt poor Mary?” Mrs. Hudson asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have only been thinking night and day of another woman!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hudson dropped helplessly into her seat again. “Oh dear, dear, had + n’t we better go home?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to get out of her way!” Roderick said. “She has started on a career + of her own, and she does n’t care a straw for me. My head was filled with + her; I could think of nothing else; I would have sacrificed everything to + her—you, Mary, Mallet, my work, my fortune, my future, my honor! I + was in a fine state, eh? I don’t pretend to be giving you good news; but I + ‘m telling the simple, literal truth, so that you may know why I have gone + to the dogs. She pretended to care greatly for all this, and to be willing + to make any sacrifice in return; she had a magnificent chance, for she was + being forced into a mercenary marriage with a man she detested. She led me + to believe that she would give this up, and break short off, and keep + herself free and sacred and pure for me. This was a great honor, and you + may believe that I valued it. It turned my head, and I lived only to see + my happiness come to pass. She did everything to encourage me to hope it + would; everything that her infernal coquetry and falsity could suggest.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I say, this is too much!” Rowland broke out. + </p> + <p> + “Do you defend her?” Roderick cried, with a renewal of his passion. “Do + you pretend to say that she gave me no hopes?” He had been speaking with + growing bitterness, quite losing sight of his mother’s pain and + bewilderment in the passionate joy of publishing his wrongs. Since he was + hurt, he must cry out; since he was in pain, he must scatter his pain + abroad. Of his never thinking of others, save as they spoke and moved from + his cue, as it were, this extraordinary insensibility to the injurious + effects of his eloquence was a capital example; the more so as the motive + of his eloquence was never an appeal for sympathy or compassion, things to + which he seemed perfectly indifferent and of which he could make no use. + The great and characteristic point with him was the perfect absoluteness + of his own emotions and experience. He never saw himself as part of a + whole; only as the clear-cut, sharp-edged, isolated individual, rejoicing + or raging, as the case might be, but needing in any case absolutely to + affirm himself. All this, to Rowland, was ancient history, but his + perception of it stirred within him afresh, at the sight of Roderick’s + sense of having been betrayed. That he, under the circumstances, should + not in fairness be the first to lodge a complaint of betrayal was a point + to which, at his leisure, Rowland was of course capable of rendering + impartial justice; but Roderick’s present desperation was so peremptory + that it imposed itself on one’s sympathies. “Do you pretend to say,” he + went on, “that she did n’t lead me along to the very edge of fulfillment + and stupefy me with all that she suffered me to believe, all that she + sacredly promised? It amused her to do it, and she knew perfectly well + what she really meant. She never meant to be sincere; she never dreamed + she could be. She ‘s a ravenous flirt, and why a flirt is a flirt is more + than I can tell you. I can’t understand playing with those matters; for me + they ‘re serious, whether I take them up or lay them down. I don’t see + what ‘s in your head, Rowland, to attempt to defend Miss Light; you were + the first to cry out against her! You told me she was dangerous, and I + pooh-poohed you. You were right; you ‘re always right. She ‘s as cold and + false and heartless as she ‘s beautiful, and she has sold her heartless + beauty to the highest bidder. I hope he knows what he gets!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my son,” cried Mrs. Hudson, plaintively, “how could you ever care for + such a dreadful creature?” + </p> + <p> + “It would take long to tell you, dear mother!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland’s lately-deepened sympathy and compassion for Christina was still + throbbing in his mind, and he felt that, in loyalty to it, he must say a + word for her. “You believed in her too much at first,” he declared, “and + you believe in her too little now.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick looked at him with eyes almost lurid, beneath lowering brows. + “She is an angel, then, after all?—that ‘s what you want to prove!” + he cried. “That ‘s consoling for me, who have lost her! You ‘re always + right, I say; but, dear friend, in mercy, be wrong for once!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, Mr. Mallet, be merciful!” said Mrs. Hudson, in a tone which, for + all its gentleness, made Rowland stare. The poor fellow’s stare covered a + great deal of concentrated wonder and apprehension—a presentiment of + what a small, sweet, feeble, elderly lady might be capable of, in the way + of suddenly generated animosity. There was no space in Mrs. Hudson’s tiny + maternal mind for complications of feeling, and one emotion existed only + by turning another over flat and perching on top of it. She was evidently + not following Roderick at all in his dusky aberrations. Sitting without, + in dismay, she only saw that all was darkness and trouble, and as + Roderick’s glory had now quite outstripped her powers of imagination and + urged him beyond her jurisdiction, so that he had become a thing too + precious and sacred for blame, she found it infinitely comfortable to lay + the burden of their common affliction upon Rowland’s broad shoulders. Had + he not promised to make them all rich and happy? And this was the end of + it! Rowland felt as if his trials were, in a sense, only beginning. “Had + n’t you better forget all this, my dear?” Mrs. Hudson said. “Had n’t you + better just quietly attend to your work?” + </p> + <p> + “Work, madame?” cried Roderick. “My work ‘s over. I can’t work—I + have n’t worked all winter. If I were fit for anything, this sentimental + collapse would have been just the thing to cure me of my apathy and break + the spell of my idleness. But there ‘s a perfect vacuum here!” And he + tapped his forehead. “It ‘s bigger than ever; it grows bigger every hour!” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m sure you have made a beautiful likeness of your poor little mother,” + said Mrs. Hudson, coaxingly. + </p> + <p> + “I had done nothing before, and I have done nothing since! I quarreled + with an excellent man, the other day, from mere exasperation of my nerves, + and threw away five thousand dollars!” + </p> + <p> + “Threw away—five thousand dollars!” Roderick had been wandering + among formidable abstractions and allusions too dark to penetrate. But + here was a concrete fact, lucidly stated, and poor Mrs. Hudson, for a + moment, looked it in the face. She repeated her son’s words a third time + with a gasping murmur, and then, suddenly, she burst into tears. Roderick + went to her, sat down beside her, put his arm round her, fixed his eyes + coldly on the floor, and waited for her to weep herself out. She leaned + her head on his shoulder and sobbed broken-heartedly. She said not a word, + she made no attempt to scold; but the desolation of her tears was + overwhelming. It lasted some time—too long for Rowland’s courage. He + had stood silent, wishing simply to appear very respectful; but the + elation that was mentioned a while since had utterly ebbed, and he found + his situation intolerable. He walked away—not, perhaps, on tiptoe, + but with a total absence of bravado in his tread. + </p> + <p> + The next day, while he was at home, the servant brought him the card of a + visitor. He read with surprise the name of Mrs. Hudson, and hurried + forward to meet her. He found her in his sitting-room, leaning on the arm + of her son and looking very pale, her eyes red with weeping, and her lips + tightly compressed. Her advent puzzled him, and it was not for some time + that he began to understand the motive of it. Roderick’s countenance threw + no light upon it; but Roderick’s countenance, full of light as it was, in + a way, itself, had never thrown light upon anything. He had not been in + Rowland’s rooms for several weeks, and he immediately began to look at + those of his own works that adorned them. He lost himself in silent + contemplation. Mrs. Hudson had evidently armed herself with dignity, and, + so far as she might, she meant to be impressive. Her success may be + measured by the fact that Rowland’s whole attention centred in the fear of + seeing her begin to weep. She told him that she had come to him for + practical advice; she begged to remind him that she was a stranger in the + land. Where were they to go, please? what were they to do? Rowland glanced + at Roderick, but Roderick had his back turned and was gazing at his Adam + with the intensity with which he might have examined Michael Angelo’s + Moses. + </p> + <p> + “Roderick says he does n’t know, he does n’t care,” Mrs. Hudson said; “he + leaves it entirely to you.” + </p> + <p> + Many another man, in Rowland’s place, would have greeted this information + with an irate and sarcastic laugh, and told his visitors that he thanked + them infinitely for their confidence, but that, really, as things stood + now, they must settle these matters between themselves; many another man + might have so demeaned himself, even if, like Rowland, he had been in love + with Mary Garland and pressingly conscious that her destiny was also part + of the question. But Rowland swallowed all hilarity and all sarcasm, and + let himself seriously consider Mrs. Hudson’s petition. His wits, however, + were but indifferently at his command; they were dulled by his sense of + the inexpressible change in Mrs. Hudson’s attitude. Her visit was + evidently intended as a formal reminder of the responsiblities Rowland had + worn so lightly. Mrs. Hudson was doubtless too sincerely humble a person + to suppose that if he had been recreant to his vows of vigilance and + tenderness, her still, small presence would operate as a chastisement. But + by some diminutive logical process of her own she had convinced herself + that she had been weakly trustful, and that she had suffered Rowland to + think too meanly, not only of her understanding, but of her social + consequence. A visit in her best gown would have an admonitory effect as + regards both of these attributes; it would cancel some favors received, + and show him that she was no such fool! These were the reflections of a + very shy woman, who, determining for once in her life to hold up her head, + was perhaps carrying it a trifle extravagantly. + </p> + <p> + “You know we have very little money to spend,” she said, as Rowland + remained silent. “Roderick tells me that he has debts and nothing at all + to pay them with. He says I must write to Mr. Striker to sell my house for + what it will bring, and send me out the money. When the money comes I must + give it to him. I ‘m sure I don’t know; I never heard of anything so + dreadful! My house is all I have. But that is all Roderick will say. We + must be very economical.” + </p> + <p> + Before this speech was finished Mrs. Hudson’s voice had begun to quaver + softly, and her face, which had no capacity for the expression of superior + wisdom, to look as humbly appealing as before. Rowland turned to Roderick + and spoke like a school-master. “Come away from those statues, and sit + down here and listen to me!” + </p> + <p> + Roderick started, but obeyed with the most graceful docility. + </p> + <p> + “What do you propose to your mother to do?” Rowland asked. + </p> + <p> + “Propose?” said Roderick, absently. “Oh, I propose nothing.” + </p> + <p> + The tone, the glance, the gesture with which this was said were horribly + irritating (though obviously without the slightest intention of being so), + and for an instant an imprecation rose to Rowland’s lips. But he checked + it, and he was afterwards glad he had done so. “You must do something,” he + said. “Choose, select, decide!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Rowland, how you talk!” Roderick cried. “The very point of the + matter is that I can’t do anything. I will do as I ‘m told, but I don’t + call that doing. We must leave Rome, I suppose, though I don’t see why. We + have got no money, and you have to pay money on the railroads.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hudson surreptitiously wrung her hands. “Listen to him, please!” she + cried. “Not leave Rome, when we have staid here later than any Christians + ever did before! It ‘s this dreadful place that has made us so unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s very true,” said Roderick, serenely. “If I had not come to Rome, + I would n’t have risen, and if I had not risen, I should n’t have fallen.” + </p> + <p> + “Fallen—fallen!” murmured Mrs. Hudson. “Just hear him!” + </p> + <p> + “I will do anything you say, Rowland,” Roderick added. “I will do anything + you want. I have not been unkind to my mother—have I, mother? I was + unkind yesterday, without meaning it; for after all, all that had to be + said. Murder will out, and my low spirits can’t be hidden. But we talked + it over and made it up, did n’t we? It seemed to me we did. Let Rowland + decide it, mother; whatever he suggests will be the right thing.” And + Roderick, who had hardly removed his eyes from the statues, got up again + and went back to look at them. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hudson fixed her eyes upon the floor in silence. There was not a + trace in Roderick’s face, or in his voice, of the bitterness of his + emotion of the day before, and not a hint of his having the lightest + weight upon his conscience. He looked at Rowland with his frank, luminous + eye as if there had never been a difference of opinion between them; as if + each had ever been for both, unalterably, and both for each. + </p> + <p> + Rowland had received a few days before a letter from a lady of his + acquaintance, a worthy Scotswoman domiciled in a villa upon one of the + olive-covered hills near Florence. She held her apartment in the villa + upon a long lease, and she enjoyed for a sum not worth mentioning the + possession of an extraordinary number of noble, stone-floored rooms, with + ceilings vaulted and frescoed, and barred windows commanding the loveliest + view in the world. She was a needy and thrifty spinster, who never + hesitated to declare that the lovely view was all very well, but that for + her own part she lived in the villa for cheapness, and that if she had a + clear three hundred pounds a year she would go and really enjoy life near + her sister, a baronet’s lady, at Glasgow. She was now proposing to make a + visit to that exhilarating city, and she desired to turn an honest penny + by sub-letting for a few weeks her historic Italian chambers. The terms on + which she occupied them enabled her to ask a rent almost jocosely small, + and she begged Rowland to do what she called a little genteel advertising + for her. Would he say a good word for her rooms to his numerous friends, + as they left Rome? He said a good word for them now to Mrs. Hudson, and + told her in dollars and cents how cheap a summer’s lodging she might + secure. He dwelt upon the fact that she would strike a truce with + tables-d’hote and have a cook of her own, amenable possibly to instruction + in the Northampton mysteries. He had touched a tender chord; Mrs. Hudson + became almost cheerful. Her sentiments upon the table-d’hote system and + upon foreign household habits generally were remarkable, and, if we had + space for it, would repay analysis; and the idea of reclaiming a lost soul + to the Puritanic canons of cookery quite lightened the burden of her + depression. While Rowland set forth his case Roderick was slowly walking + round the magnificent Adam, with his hands in his pockets. Rowland waited + for him to manifest an interest in their discussion, but the statue seemed + to fascinate him and he remained calmly heedless. Rowland was a practical + man; he possessed conspicuously what is called the sense of detail. He + entered into Mrs. Hudson’s position minutely, and told her exactly why it + seemed good that she should remove immediately to the Florentine villa. + She received his advice with great frigidity, looking hard at the floor + and sighing, like a person well on her guard against an insidious + optimism. But she had nothing better to propose, and Rowland received her + permission to write to his friend that he had let the rooms. + </p> + <p> + Roderick assented to this decision without either sighs or smiles. “A + Florentine villa is a good thing!” he said. “I am at your service.” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m sure I hope you ‘ll get better there,” moaned his mother, gathering + her shawl together. + </p> + <p> + Roderick laid one hand on her arm and with the other pointed to Rowland’s + statues. “Better or worse, remember this: I did those things!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hudson gazed at them vaguely, and Rowland said, “Remember it + yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “They are horribly good!” said Roderick. + </p> + <p> + Rowland solemnly shrugged his shoulders; it seemed to him that he had + nothing more to say. But as the others were going, a last light pulsation + of the sense of undischarged duty led him to address to Roderick a few + words of parting advice. “You ‘ll find the Villa Pandolfini very + delightful, very comfortable,” he said. “You ought to be very contented + there. Whether you work or whether you loaf, it ‘s a place for an artist + to be happy in. I hope you will work.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I may!” said Roderick with a magnificent smile. + </p> + <p> + “When we meet again, have something to show me.” + </p> + <p> + “When we meet again? Where the deuce are you going?” Roderick demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I hardly know; over the Alps.” + </p> + <p> + “Over the Alps! You ‘re going to leave me?” Roderick cried. + </p> + <p> + Rowland had most distinctly meant to leave him, but his resolution + immediately wavered. He glanced at Mrs. Hudson and saw that her eyebrows + were lifted and her lips parted in soft irony. She seemed to accuse him of + a craven shirking of trouble, to demand of him to repair his cruel havoc + in her life by a solemn renewal of zeal. But Roderick’s expectations were + the oddest! Such as they were, Rowland asked himself why he should n’t + make a bargain with them. “You desire me to go with you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t go, I won’t—that ‘s all! How in the world shall I get + through the summer without you?” + </p> + <p> + “How will you get through it with me? That ‘s the question.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t pretend to say; the future is a dead blank. But without you it ‘s + not a blank—it ‘s certain damnation!” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy, mercy!” murmured Mrs. Hudson. + </p> + <p> + Rowland made an effort to stand firm, and for a moment succeeded. “If I go + with you, will you try to work?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick, up to this moment, had been looking as unperturbed as if the + deep agitation of the day before were a thing of the remote past. But at + these words his face changed formidably; he flushed and scowled, and all + his passion returned. “Try to work!” he cried. “Try—try! work—work! + In God’s name don’t talk that way, or you ‘ll drive me mad! Do you suppose + I ‘m trying not to work? Do you suppose I stand rotting here for the fun + of it? Don’t you suppose I would try to work for myself before I tried for + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Mallet,” cried Mrs. Hudson, piteously, “will you leave me alone with + this?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland turned to her and informed her, gently, that he would go with her + to Florence. After he had so pledged himself he thought not at all of the + pain of his position as mediator between the mother’s resentful grief and + the son’s incurable weakness; he drank deep, only, of the satisfaction of + not separating from Mary Garland. If the future was a blank to Roderick, + it was hardly less so to himself. He had at moments a lively foreboding of + impending calamity. He paid it no especial deference, but it made him feel + indisposed to take the future into his account. When, on his going to take + leave of Madame Grandoni, this lady asked at what time he would come back + to Rome, he answered that he was coming back either never or forever. When + she asked him what he meant, he said he really could n’t tell her, and + parted from her with much genuine emotion; the more so, doubtless, that + she blessed him in a quite loving, maternal fashion, and told him she + honestly believed him to be the best fellow in the world. + </p> + <p> + The Villa Pandolfini stood directly upon a small grass-grown piazza, on + the top of a hill which sloped straight from one of the gates of Florence. + It offered to the outer world a long, rather low facade, colored a dull, + dark yellow, and pierced with windows of various sizes, no one of which, + save those on the ground floor, was on the same level with any other. + Within, it had a great, cool, gray cortile, with high, light arches around + it, heavily-corniced doors, of majestic altitude, opening out of it, and a + beautiful mediaeval well on one side of it. Mrs. Hudson’s rooms opened + into a small garden supported on immense substructions, which were planted + on the farther side of the hill, as it sloped steeply away. This garden + was a charming place. Its south wall was curtained with a dense orange + vine, a dozen fig-trees offered you their large-leaved shade, and over the + low parapet the soft, grave Tuscan landscape kept you company. The rooms + themselves were as high as chapels and as cool as royal sepulchres. + Silence, peace, and security seemed to abide in the ancient house and make + it an ideal refuge for aching hearts. Mrs. Hudson had a stunted, + brown-faced Maddalena, who wore a crimson handkerchief passed over her + coarse, black locks and tied under her sharp, pertinacious chin, and a + smile which was as brilliant as a prolonged flash of lightning. She smiled + at everything in life, especially the things she did n’t like and which + kept her talent for mendacity in healthy exercise. A glance, a word, a + motion was sufficient to make her show her teeth at you like a cheerful + she-wolf. This inexpugnable smile constituted her whole vocabulary in her + dealings with her melancholy mistress, to whom she had been bequeathed by + the late occupant of the apartment, and who, to Rowland’s satisfaction, + promised to be diverted from her maternal sorrows by the still deeper + perplexities of Maddalena’s theory of roasting, sweeping, and bed-making. + </p> + <p> + Rowland took rooms at a villa a trifle nearer Florence, whence in the + summer mornings he had five minutes’ walk in the sharp, black, + shadow-strip projected by winding, flower-topped walls, to join his + friends. The life at the Villa Pandolfini, when it had fairly defined + itself, was tranquil and monotonous, but it might have borrowed from + exquisite circumstance an absorbing charm. If a sensible shadow rested + upon it, this was because it had an inherent vice; it was feigning a + repose which it very scantily felt. Roderick had lost no time in giving + the full measure of his uncompromising chagrin, and as he was the central + figure of the little group, as he held its heart-strings all in his own + hand, it reflected faithfully the eclipse of his own genius. No one had + ventured upon the cheerful commonplace of saying that the change of air + and of scene would restore his spirits; this would have had, under the + circumstances, altogether too silly a sound. The change in question had + done nothing of the sort, and his companions had, at least, the comfort of + their perspicacity. An essential spring had dried up within him, and there + was no visible spiritual law for making it flow again. He was rarely + violent, he expressed little of the irritation and ennui that he must have + constantly felt; it was as if he believed that a spiritual miracle for his + redemption was just barely possible, and was therefore worth waiting for. + The most that one could do, however, was to wait grimly and doggedly, + suppressing an imprecation as, from time to time, one looked at one’s + watch. An attitude of positive urbanity toward life was not to be + expected; it was doing one’s duty to hold one’s tongue and keep one’s + hands off one’s own windpipe, and other people’s. Roderick had long + silences, fits of profound lethargy, almost of stupefaction. He used to + sit in the garden by the hour, with his head thrown back, his legs + outstretched, his hands in his pockets, and his eyes fastened upon the + blinding summer sky. He would gather a dozen books about him, tumble them + out on the ground, take one into his lap, and leave it with the pages + unturned. These moods would alternate with hours of extreme restlessness, + during which he mysteriously absented himself. He bore the heat of the + Italian summer like a salamander, and used to start off at high noon for + long walks over the hills. He often went down into Florence, rambled + through her close, dim streets, and lounged away mornings in the churches + and galleries. On many of these occasions Rowland bore him company, for + they were the times when he was most like his former self. Before Michael + Angelo’s statues and the pictures of the early Tuscans, he quite forgot + his own infelicities, and picked up the thread of his old aesthetic + loquacity. He had a particular fondness for Andrea del Sarto, and affirmed + that if he had been a painter he would have taken the author of the + Madonna del Sacco for his model. He found in Florence some of his Roman + friends, and went down on certain evenings to meet them. More than once he + asked Mary Garland to go with him into town, and showed her the things he + most cared for. He had some modeling clay brought up to the villa and + deposited in a room suitable for his work; but when this had been done he + turned the key in the door and the clay never was touched. His eye was + heavy and his hand cold, and his mother put up a secret prayer that he + might be induced to see a doctor. But on a certain occasion, when her + prayer became articulate, he had a great outburst of anger and begged her + to know, once for all, that his health was better than it had ever been. + On the whole, and most of the time, he was a sad spectacle; he looked so + hopelessly idle. If he was not querulous and bitter, it was because he had + taken an extraordinary vow not to be; a vow heroic, for him, a vow which + those who knew him well had the tenderness to appreciate. Talking with him + was like skating on thin ice, and his companions had a constant mental + vision of spots designated “dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + This was a difficult time for Rowland; he said to himself that he would + endure it to the end, but that it must be his last adventure of the kind. + Mrs. Hudson divided her time between looking askance at her son, with her + hands tightly clasped about her pocket-handkerchief, as if she were + wringing it dry of the last hour’s tears, and turning her eyes much more + directly upon Rowland, in the mutest, the feeblest, the most intolerable + reproachfulness. She never phrased her accusations, but he felt that in + the unillumined void of the poor lady’s mind they loomed up like + vaguely-outlined monsters. Her demeanor caused him the acutest suffering, + and if, at the outset of his enterprise, he had seen, how dimly soever, + one of those plaintive eye-beams in the opposite scale, the brilliancy of + Roderick’s promises would have counted for little. They made their way to + the softest spot in his conscience and kept it chronically aching. If Mrs. + Hudson had been loquacious and vulgar, he would have borne even a less + valid persecution with greater fortitude. But somehow, neat and noiseless + and dismally lady-like, as she sat there, keeping her grievance green with + her soft-dropping tears, her displeasure conveyed an overwhelming + imputation of brutality. He felt like a reckless trustee who has + speculated with the widow’s mite, and is haunted with the reflection of + ruin that he sees in her tearful eyes. He did everything conceivable to be + polite to Mrs. Hudson, and to treat her with distinguished deference. + Perhaps his exasperated nerves made him overshoot the mark, and rendered + his civilities a trifle peremptory. She seemed capable of believing that + he was trying to make a fool of her; she would have thought him cruelly + recreant if he had suddenly departed in desperation, and yet she gave him + no visible credit for his constancy. Women are said by some authorities to + be cruel; I don’t know how true this is, but it may at least be pertinent + to remark that Mrs. Hudson was very much of a woman. It often seemed to + Rowland that he had too decidedly forfeited his freedom, and that there + was something positively grotesque in a man of his age and circumstances + living in such a moral bondage. + </p> + <p> + But Mary Garland had helped him before, and she helped him now—helped + him not less than he had assured himself she would when he found himself + drifting to Florence. Yet her help was rendered in the same unconscious, + unacknowledged fashion as before; there was no explicit change in their + relations. After that distressing scene in Rome which had immediately + preceded their departure, it was of course impossible that there should + not be on Miss Garland’s part some frankness of allusion to Roderick’s sad + condition. She had been present, the reader will remember, during only + half of his unsparing confession, and Rowland had not seen her confronted + with any absolute proof of Roderick’s passion for Christina Light. But he + knew that she knew far too much for her happiness; Roderick had told him, + shortly after their settlement at the Villa Pandolfini, that he had had a + “tremendous talk” with his cousin. Rowland asked no questions about it; he + preferred not to know what had passed between them. If their interview had + been purely painful, he wished to ignore it for Miss Garland’s sake; and + if it had sown the seeds of reconciliation, he wished to close his eyes to + it for his own—for the sake of that unshaped idea, forever dismissed + and yet forever present, which hovered in the background of his + consciousness, with a hanging head, as it were, and yet an unshamed + glance, and whose lightest motions were an effectual bribe to patience. + Was the engagement broken? Rowland wondered, yet without asking. But it + hardly mattered, for if, as was more than probable, Miss Garland had + peremptorily released her cousin, her own heart had by no means recovered + its liberty. It was very certain to Rowland’s mind that if she had given + him up she had by no means ceased to care for him passionately, and that, + to exhaust her charity for his weaknesses, Roderick would have, as the + phrase is, a long row to hoe. She spoke of Roderick as she might have done + of a person suffering from a serious malady which demanded much + tenderness; but if Rowland had found it possible to accuse her of + dishonesty he would have said now that she believed appreciably less than + she pretended to in her victim’s being an involuntary patient. There are + women whose love is care-taking and patronizing, and who rather prefer a + weak man because he gives them a comfortable sense of strength. It did not + in the least please Rowland to believe that Mary Garland was one of these; + for he held that such women were only males in petticoats, and he was + convinced that Miss Garland’s heart was constructed after the most perfect + feminine model. That she was a very different woman from Christina Light + did not at all prove that she was less a woman, and if the Princess + Casamassima had gone up into a high place to publish her disrelish of a + man who lacked the virile will, it was very certain that Mary Garland was + not a person to put up, at any point, with what might be called the + princess’s leavings. It was Christina’s constant practice to remind you of + the complexity of her character, of the subtlety of her mind, of her + troublous faculty of seeing everything in a dozen different lights. Mary + Garland had never pretended not to be simple; but Rowland had a theory + that she had really a more multitudinous sense of human things, a more + delicate imagination, and a finer instinct of character. She did you the + honors of her mind with a grace far less regal, but was not that faculty + of quite as remarkable an adjustment? If in poor Christina’s strangely + commingled nature there was circle within circle, and depth beneath depth, + it was to be believed that Mary Garland, though she did not amuse herself + with dropping stones into her soul, and waiting to hear them fall, laid + quite as many sources of spiritual life under contribution. She had + believed Roderick was a fine fellow when she bade him farewell beneath the + Northampton elms, and this belief, to her young, strenuous, concentrated + imagination, had meant many things. If it was to grow cold, it would be + because disenchantment had become total and won the battle at each + successive point. + </p> + <p> + Miss Garland had even in her face and carriage something of the + preoccupied and wearied look of a person who is watching at a sick-bed; + Roderick’s broken fortunes, his dead ambitions, were a cruel burden to the + heart of a girl who had believed that he possessed “genius,” and supposed + that genius was to one’s spiritual economy what full pockets were to one’s + domestic. And yet, with her, Rowland never felt, as with Mrs. Hudson, that + undercurrent of reproach and bitterness toward himself, that impertinent + implication that he had defrauded her of happiness. Was this justice, in + Miss Garland, or was it mercy? The answer would have been difficult, for + she had almost let Rowland feel before leaving Rome that she liked him + well enough to forgive him an injury. It was partly, Rowland fancied, that + there were occasional lapses, deep and sweet, in her sense of injury. + When, on arriving at Florence, she saw the place Rowland had brought them + to in their trouble, she had given him a look and said a few words to him + that had seemed not only a remission of guilt but a positive reward. This + happened in the court of the villa—the large gray quadrangle, + overstretched, from edge to edge of the red-tiled roof, by the soft + Italian sky. Mary had felt on the spot the sovereign charm of the place; + it was reflected in her deeply intelligent glance, and Rowland immediately + accused himself of not having done the villa justice. Miss Garland took a + mighty fancy to Florence, and used to look down wistfully at the towered + city from the windows and garden. Roderick having now no pretext for not + being her cicerone, Rowland was no longer at liberty, as he had been in + Rome, to propose frequent excursions to her. Roderick’s own invitations, + however, were not frequent, and Rowland more than once ventured to + introduce her to a gallery or a church. These expeditions were not so + blissful, to his sense, as the rambles they had taken together in Rome, + for his companion only half surrendered herself to her enjoyment, and + seemed to have but a divided attention at her command. Often, when she had + begun with looking intently at a picture, her silence, after an interval, + made him turn and glance at her. He usually found that if she was looking + at the picture still, she was not seeing it. Her eyes were fixed, but her + thoughts were wandering, and an image more vivid than any that Raphael or + Titian had drawn had superposed itself upon the canvas. She asked fewer + questions than before, and seemed to have lost heart for consulting + guide-books and encyclopaedias. From time to time, however, she uttered a + deep, full murmur of gratification. Florence in midsummer was perfectly + void of travelers, and the dense little city gave forth its aesthetic + aroma with a larger frankness, as the nightingale sings when the listeners + have departed. The churches were deliciously cool, but the gray streets + were stifling, and the great, dove-tailed polygons of pavement as hot to + the tread as molten lava. Rowland, who suffered from intense heat, would + have found all this uncomfortable in solitude; but Florence had never + charmed him so completely as during these midsummer strolls with his + preoccupied companion. One evening they had arranged to go on the morrow + to the Academy. Miss Garland kept her appointment, but as soon as she + appeared, Rowland saw that something painful had befallen her. She was + doing her best to look at her ease, but her face bore the marks of tears. + Rowland told her that he was afraid she was ill, and that if she preferred + to give up the visit to Florence he would submit with what grace he might. + She hesitated a moment, and then said she preferred to adhere to their + plan. “I am not well,” she presently added, “but it ‘s a moral malady, and + in such cases I consider your company beneficial.” + </p> + <p> + “But if I am to be your doctor,” said Rowland, “you must tell me how your + illness began.” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you very little. It began with Mrs. Hudson being unjust to me, + for the first time in her life. And now I am already better!” + </p> + <p> + I mention this incident because it confirmed an impression of Rowland’s + from which he had derived a certain consolation. He knew that Mrs. Hudson + considered her son’s ill-regulated passion for Christina Light a very + regrettable affair, but he suspected that her manifest compassion had been + all for Roderick, and not in the least for Mary Garland. She was fond of + the young girl, but she had valued her primarily, during the last two + years, as a kind of assistant priestess at Roderick’s shrine. Roderick had + honored her by asking her to become his wife, but that poor Mary had any + rights in consequence Mrs. Hudson was quite incapable of perceiving. Her + sentiment on the subject was of course not very vigorously formulated, but + she was unprepared to admit that Miss Garland had any ground for + complaint. Roderick was very unhappy; that was enough, and Mary’s duty was + to join her patience and her prayers to those of his doting mother. + Roderick might fall in love with whom he pleased; no doubt that women + trained in the mysterious Roman arts were only too proud and too happy to + make it easy for him; and it was very presuming in poor, plain Mary to + feel any personal resentment. Mrs. Hudson’s philosophy was of too narrow a + scope to suggest that a mother may forgive where a mistress cannot, and + she thought herself greatly aggrieved that Miss Garland was not so + disinterested as herself. She was ready to drop dead in Roderick’s + service, and she was quite capable of seeing her companion falter and grow + faint, without a tremor of compassion. Mary, apparently, had given some + intimation of her belief that if constancy is the flower of devotion, + reciprocity is the guarantee of constancy, and Mrs. Hudson had rebuked her + failing faith and called it cruelty. That Miss Garland had found it hard + to reason with Mrs. Hudson, that she suffered deeply from the elder lady’s + softly bitter imputations, and that, in short, he had companionship in + misfortune—all this made Rowland find a certain luxury in his + discomfort. + </p> + <p> + The party at Villa Pandolfini used to sit in the garden in the evenings, + which Rowland almost always spent with them. Their entertainment was in + the heavily perfumed air, in the dim, far starlight, in the crenelated + tower of a neighboring villa, which loomed vaguely above them in the warm + darkness, and in such conversation as depressing reflections allowed. + Roderick, clad always in white, roamed about like a restless ghost, silent + for the most part, but making from time to time a brief observation, + characterized by the most fantastic cynicism. Roderick’s contributions to + the conversation were indeed always so fantastic that, though half the + time they wearied him unspeakably, Rowland made an effort to treat them + humorously. With Rowland alone Roderick talked a great deal more; often + about things related to his own work, or about artistic and aesthetic + matters in general. He talked as well as ever, or even better; but his + talk always ended in a torrent of groans and curses. When this current set + in, Rowland straightway turned his back or stopped his ears, and Roderick + now witnessed these movements with perfect indifference. When the latter + was absent from the star-lit circle in the garden, as often happened, + Rowland knew nothing of his whereabouts; he supposed him to be in + Florence, but he never learned what he did there. All this was not + enlivening, but with an even, muffled tread the days followed each other, + and brought the month of August to a close. One particular evening at this + time was most enchanting; there was a perfect moon, looking so + extraordinarily large that it made everything its light fell upon seem + small; the heat was tempered by a soft west wind, and the wind was laden + with the odors of the early harvest. The hills, the vale of the Arno, the + shrunken river, the domes of Florence, were vaguely effaced by the dense + moonshine; they looked as if they were melting out of sight like an + exorcised vision. Rowland had found the two ladies alone at the villa, and + he had sat with them for an hour. He felt absolutely hushed by the solemn + splendor of the scene, but he had risked the remark that, whatever life + might yet have in store for either of them, this was a night that they + would never forget. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s a night to remember on one’s death-bed!” Miss Garland exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mary, how can you!” murmured Mrs. Hudson, to whom this savored of + profanity, and to whose shrinking sense, indeed, the accumulated + loveliness of the night seemed to have something shameless and defiant. + </p> + <p> + They were silent after this, for some time, but at last Rowland addressed + certain idle words to Miss Garland. She made no reply, and he turned to + look at her. She was sitting motionless, with her head pressed to Mrs. + Hudson’s shoulder, and the latter lady was gazing at him through the + silvered dusk with a look which gave a sort of spectral solemnity to the + sad, weak meaning of her eyes. She had the air, for the moment, of a + little old malevolent fairy. Miss Garland, Rowland perceived in an + instant, was not absolutely motionless; a tremor passed through her + figure. She was weeping, or on the point of weeping, and she could not + trust herself to speak. Rowland left his place and wandered to another + part of the garden, wondering at the motive of her sudden tears. Of + women’s sobs in general he had a sovereign dread, but these, somehow, gave + him a certain pleasure. When he returned to his place Miss Garland had + raised her head and banished her tears. She came away from Mrs. Hudson, + and they stood for a short time leaning against the parapet. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to you very strange, I suppose,” said Rowland, “that there + should be any trouble in such a world as this.” + </p> + <p> + “I used to think,” she answered, “that if any trouble came to me I would + bear it like a stoic. But that was at home, where things don’t speak to us + of enjoyment as they do here. Here it is such a mixture; one does n’t know + what to choose, what to believe. Beauty stands there—beauty such as + this night and this place, and all this sad, strange summer, have been so + full of—and it penetrates to one’s soul and lodges there, and keeps + saying that man was not made to suffer, but to enjoy. This place has + undermined my stoicism, but—shall I tell you? I feel as if I were + saying something sinful—I love it!” + </p> + <p> + “If it is sinful, I absolve you,” said Rowland, “in so far as I have + power. We are made, I suppose, both to suffer and to enjoy. As you say, it + ‘s a mixture. Just now and here, it seems a peculiarly strange one. But we + must take things in turn.” + </p> + <p> + His words had a singular aptness, for he had hardly uttered them when + Roderick came out from the house, evidently in his darkest mood. He stood + for a moment gazing hard at the view. + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s a very beautiful night, my son,” said his mother, going to him + timidly, and touching his arm. + </p> + <p> + He passed his hand through his hair and let it stay there, clasping his + thick locks. “Beautiful?” he cried; “of course it ‘s beautiful! Everything + is beautiful; everything is insolent, defiant, atrocious with beauty. + Nothing is ugly but me—me and my poor dead brain!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dearest son,” pleaded poor Mrs. Hudson, “don’t you feel any + better?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick made no immediate answer; but at last he spoke in a different + voice. “I came expressly to tell you that you need n’t trouble yourselves + any longer to wait for something to turn up. Nothing will turn up! It ‘s + all over! I said when I came here I would give it a chance. I have given + it a chance. Have n’t I, eh? Have n’t I, Rowland? It ‘s no use; the thing + ‘s a failure! Do with me now what you please. I recommend you to set me up + there at the end of the garden and shoot me.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel strongly inclined,” said Rowland gravely, “to go and get my + revolver.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mercy on us, what language!” cried Mrs. Hudson. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” Roderick went on. “This would be a lovely night for it, and I + should be a lucky fellow to be buried in this garden. But bury me alive, + if you prefer. Take me back to Northampton.” + </p> + <p> + “Roderick, will you really come?” cried his mother. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I ‘ll go! I might as well be there as anywhere—reverting to + idiocy and living upon alms. I can do nothing with all this; perhaps I + should really like Northampton. If I ‘m to vegetate for the rest of my + days, I can do it there better than here.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come home, come home,” Mrs. Hudson said, “and we shall all be safe + and quiet and happy. My dearest son, come home with your poor mother!” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go, then, and go quickly!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hudson flung herself upon his neck for gratitude. “We ‘ll go + to-morrow!” she cried. “The Lord is very good to me!” + </p> + <p> + Mary Garland said nothing to this; but she looked at Rowland, and her eyes + seemed to contain a kind of alarmed appeal. Rowland noted it with + exultation, but even without it he would have broken into an eager + protest. + </p> + <p> + “Are you serious, Roderick?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Serious? of course not! How can a man with a crack in his brain be + serious? how can a muddlehead reason? But I ‘m not jesting, either; I can + no more make jokes than utter oracles!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you willing to go home?” + </p> + <p> + “Willing? God forbid! I am simply amenable to force; if my mother chooses + to take me, I won’t resist. I can’t! I have come to that!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me resist, then,” said Rowland. “Go home as you are now? I can’t + stand by and see it.” + </p> + <p> + It may have been true that Roderick had lost his sense of humor, but he + scratched his head with a gesture that was almost comical in its effect. + “You are a queer fellow! I should think I would disgust you horribly.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay another year,” Rowland simply said. + </p> + <p> + “Doing nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall do something. I am responsible for your doing something.” + </p> + <p> + “To whom are you responsible?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland, before replying, glanced at Miss Garland, and his glance made her + speak quickly. “Not to me!” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m responsible to myself,” Rowland declared. + </p> + <p> + “My poor, dear fellow!” said Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Mallet, are n’t you satisfied?” cried Mrs. Hudson, in the tone in + which Niobe may have addressed the avenging archers, after she had seen + her eldest-born fall. “It ‘s out of all nature keeping him here. When we + ‘re in a poor way, surely our own dear native land is the place for us. Do + leave us to ourselves, sir!” + </p> + <p> + This just failed of being a dismissal in form, and Rowland bowed his head + to it. Roderick was silent for some moments; then, suddenly, he covered + his face with his two hands. “Take me at least out of this terrible + Italy,” he cried, “where everything mocks and reproaches and torments and + eludes me! Take me out of this land of impossible beauty and put me in the + midst of ugliness. Set me down where nature is coarse and flat, and men + and manners are vulgar. There must be something awfully ugly in Germany. + Pack me off there!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland answered that if he wished to leave Italy the thing might be + arranged; he would think it over and submit a proposal on the morrow. He + suggested to Mrs. Hudson, in consequence, that she should spend the autumn + in Switzerland, where she would find a fine tonic climate, plenty of fresh + milk, and several pensions at three francs and a half a day. Switzerland, + of course, was not ugly, but one could not have everything. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hudson neither thanked him nor assented; but she wept and packed her + trunks. Rowland had a theory, after the scene which led to these + preparations, that Mary Garland was weary of waiting for Roderick to come + to his senses, that the faith which had bravely borne his manhood company + hitherto, on the tortuous march he was leading it, had begun to believe it + had gone far enough. This theory was not vitiated by something she said to + him on the day before that on which Mrs. Hudson had arranged to leave + Florence. + </p> + <p> + “Cousin Sarah, the other evening,” she said, “asked you to please leave + us. I think she hardly knew what she was saying, and I hope you have not + taken offense.” + </p> + <p> + “By no means; but I honestly believe that my leaving you would contribute + greatly to Mrs. Hudson’s comfort. I can be your hidden providence, you + know; I can watch you at a distance, and come upon the scene at critical + moments.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Garland looked for a moment at the ground; and then, with sudden + earnestness, “I beg you to come with us!” she said. + </p> + <p> + It need hardly be added that after this Rowland went with them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. The Princess Casamassima + </h2> + <p> + Rowland had a very friendly memory of a little mountain inn, accessible + with moderate trouble from Lucerne, where he had once spent a blissful ten + days. He had at that time been trudging, knapsack on back, over half + Switzerland, and not being, on his legs, a particularly light weight, it + was no shame to him to confess that he was mortally tired. The inn of + which I speak presented striking analogies with a cow-stable; but in spite + of this circumstance, it was crowded with hungry tourists. It stood in a + high, shallow valley, with flower-strewn Alpine meadows sloping down to it + from the base of certain rugged rocks whose outlines were grotesque + against the evening sky. Rowland had seen grander places in Switzerland + that pleased him less, and whenever afterwards he wished to think of + Alpine opportunities at their best, he recalled this grassy concave among + the mountain-tops, and the August days he spent there, resting + deliciously, at his length, in the lee of a sun-warmed boulder, with the + light cool air stirring about his temples, the wafted odors of the pines + in his nostrils, the tinkle of the cattle-bells in his ears, the vast + progression of the mountain shadows before his eyes, and a volume of + Wordsworth in his pocket. His face, on the Swiss hill-sides, had been + scorched to within a shade of the color nowadays called magenta, and his + bed was a pallet in a loft, which he shared with a German botanist of + colossal stature—every inch of him quaking at an open window. These + had been drawbacks to felicity, but Rowland hardly cared where or how he + was lodged, for he spent the livelong day under the sky, on the crest of a + slope that looked at the Jungfrau. He remembered all this on leaving + Florence with his friends, and he reflected that, as the midseason was + over, accommodations would be more ample, and charges more modest. He + communicated with his old friend the landlord, and, while September was + yet young, his companions established themselves under his guidance in the + grassy valley. + </p> + <p> + He had crossed the Saint Gothard Pass with them, in the same carriage. + During the journey from Florence, and especially during this portion of + it, the cloud that hung over the little party had been almost dissipated, + and they had looked at each other, in the close contiguity of the train + and the posting-carriage, without either accusing or consoling glances. It + was impossible not to enjoy the magnificent scenery of the Apennines and + the Italian Alps, and there was a tacit agreement among the travelers to + abstain from sombre allusions. The effect of this delicate compact seemed + excellent; it ensured them a week’s intellectual sunshine. Roderick sat + and gazed out of the window with a fascinated stare, and with a perfect + docility of attitude. He concerned himself not a particle about the + itinerary, or about any of the wayside arrangements; he took no trouble, + and he gave none. He assented to everything that was proposed, talked very + little, and led for a week a perfectly contemplative life. His mother + rarely removed her eyes from him; and if, a while before, this would have + extremely irritated him, he now seemed perfectly unconscious of her + observation and profoundly indifferent to anything that might befall him. + They spent a couple of days on the Lake of Como, at a hotel with white + porticoes smothered in oleander and myrtle, and the terrace-steps leading + down to little boats with striped awnings. They agreed it was the earthly + paradise, and they passed the mornings strolling through the perfumed + alleys of classic villas, and the evenings floating in the moonlight in a + circle of outlined mountains, to the music of silver-trickling oars. One + day, in the afternoon, the two young men took a long stroll together. They + followed the winding footway that led toward Como, close to the lake-side, + past the gates of villas and the walls of vineyards, through little + hamlets propped on a dozen arches, and bathing their feet and their + pendant tatters in the gray-green ripple; past frescoed walls and + crumbling campaniles and grassy village piazzas, and the mouth of soft + ravines that wound upward, through belts of swinging vine and vaporous + olive and splendid chestnut, to high ledges where white chapels gleamed + amid the paler boskage, and bare cliff-surfaces, with their sun-cracked + lips, drank in the azure light. It all was confoundingly picturesque; it + was the Italy that we know from the steel engravings in old keepsakes and + annuals, from the vignettes on music-sheets and the drop-curtains at + theatres; an Italy that we can never confess to ourselves—in spite + of our own changes and of Italy’s—that we have ceased to believe in. + Rowland and Roderick turned aside from the little paved footway that + clambered and dipped and wound and doubled beside the lake, and stretched + themselves idly beneath a fig-tree, on a grassy promontory. Rowland had + never known anything so divinely soothing as the dreamy softness of that + early autumn afternoon. The iridescent mountains shut him in; the little + waves, beneath him, fretted the white pebbles at the laziest intervals; + the festooned vines above him swayed just visibly in the all but + motionless air. + </p> + <p> + Roderick lay observing it all with his arms thrown back and his hands + under his head. “This suits me,” he said; “I could be happy here and + forget everything. Why not stay here forever?” He kept his position for a + long time and seemed lost in his thoughts. Rowland spoke to him, but he + made vague answers; at last he closed his eyes. It seemed to Rowland, + also, a place to stay in forever; a place for perfect oblivion of the + disagreeable. Suddenly Roderick turned over on his face, and buried it in + his arms. There had been something passionate in his movement; but Rowland + was nevertheless surprised, when he at last jerked himself back into a + sitting posture, to perceive the trace of tears in his eyes. Roderick + turned to his friend, stretching his two hands out toward the lake and + mountains, and shaking them with an eloquent gesture, as if his heart was + too full for utterance. + </p> + <p> + “Pity me, sir; pity me!” he presently cried. “Look at this lovely world, + and think what it must be to be dead to it!” + </p> + <p> + “Dead?” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Dead, dead; dead and buried! Buried in an open grave, where you lie + staring up at the sailing clouds, smelling the waving flowers, and hearing + all nature live and grow above you! That ‘s the way I feel!” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it,” said Rowland. “Death of that sort is very near to + resurrection.” + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s too horrible,” Roderick went on; “it has all come over me here + tremendously! If I were not ashamed, I could shed a bushel of tears. For + one hour of what I have been, I would give up anything I may be!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what you have been; be something better!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never be anything again: it ‘s no use talking! But I don’t know + what secret spring has been touched since I have lain here. Something in + my heart seemed suddenly to open and let in a flood of beauty and desire. + I know what I have lost, and I think it horrible! Mind you, I know it, I + feel it! Remember that hereafter. Don’t say that he was stupefied and + senseless; that his perception was dulled and his aspiration dead. Say + that he trembled in every nerve with a sense of the beauty and sweetness + of life; that he rebelled and protested and shrieked; that he was buried + alive, with his eyes open, and his heart beating to madness; that he clung + to every blade of grass and every way-side thorn as he passed; that it was + the most horrible spectacle you ever witnessed; that it was an outrage, a + murder, a massacre!” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, man, are you insane?” Rowland cried. + </p> + <p> + “I never have been saner. I don’t want to be bad company, and in this + beautiful spot, at this delightful hour, it seems an outrage to break the + charm. But I am bidding farewell to Italy, to beauty, to honor, to life! I + only want to assure you that I know what I lose. I know it in every pulse + of my heart! Here, where these things are all loveliest, I take leave of + them. Farewell, farewell!” + </p> + <p> + During their passage of the Saint Gothard, Roderick absented himself much + of the time from the carriage, and rambled far in advance, along the huge + zigzags of the road. He displayed an extraordinary activity; his light + weight and slender figure made him an excellent pedestrian, and his + friends frequently saw him skirting the edge of plunging chasms, loosening + the stones on long, steep slopes, or lifting himself against the sky, from + the top of rocky pinnacles. Mary Garland walked a great deal, but she + remained near the carriage to be with Mrs. Hudson. Rowland remained near + it to be with Miss Garland. He trudged by her side up that magnificent + ascent from Italy, and found himself regretting that the Alps were so low, + and that their trudging was not to last a week. She was exhilarated; she + liked to walk; in the way of mountains, until within the last few weeks, + she had seen nothing greater than Mount Holyoke, and she found that the + Alps amply justified their reputation. Rowland knew that she loved nature, + but he was struck afresh with the vivacity of her observation of it, and + with her knowledge of plants and stones. At that season the wild flowers + had mostly departed, but a few of them lingered, and Miss Garland never + failed to espy them in their outlying corners. They interested her + greatly; she was charmed when they were old friends, and charmed even more + when they were new. She displayed a very light foot in going in quest of + them, and had soon covered the front seat of the carriage with a tangle of + strange vegetation. Rowland of course was alert in her service, and he + gathered for her several botanical specimens which at first seemed + inaccessible. One of these, indeed, had at first appeared easier of + capture than his attempt attested, and he had paused a moment at the base + of the little peak on which it grew, measuring the risk of farther + pursuit. Suddenly, as he stood there, he remembered Roderick’s defiance of + danger and of Miss Light, at the Coliseum, and he was seized with a strong + desire to test the courage of his companion. She had just scrambled up a + grassy slope near him, and had seen that the flower was out of reach. As + he prepared to approach it, she called to him eagerly to stop; the thing + was impossible! Poor Rowland, whose passion had been terribly starved, + enjoyed immensely the thought of having her care, for three minutes, what + became of him. He was the least brutal of men, but for a moment he was + perfectly indifferent to her suffering. + </p> + <p> + “I can get the flower,” he called to her. “Will you trust me?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want it; I would rather not have it!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Will you trust me?” he repeated, looking at her. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him and then at the flower; he wondered whether she would + shriek and swoon, as Miss Light had done. “I wish it were something + better!” she said simply; and then stood watching him, while he began to + clamber. Rowland was not shaped for an acrobat, and his enterprise was + difficult; but he kept his wits about him, made the most of narrow + foot-holds and coigns of vantage, and at last secured his prize. He + managed to stick it into his buttonhole and then he contrived to descend. + There was more than one chance for an ugly fall, but he evaded them all. + It was doubtless not gracefully done, but it was done, and that was all he + had proposed to himself. He was red in the face when he offered Miss + Garland the flower, and she was visibly pale. She had watched him without + moving. All this had passed without the knowledge of Mrs. Hudson, who was + dozing beneath the hood of the carriage. Mary Garland’s eyes did not + perhaps display that ardent admiration which was formerly conferred by the + queen of beauty at a tournament; but they expressed something in which + Rowland found his reward. “Why did you do that?” she asked, gravely. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. He felt that it was physically possible to say, “Because I + love you!” but that it was not morally possible. He lowered his pitch and + answered, simply, “Because I wanted to do something for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you had fallen,” said Miss Garland. + </p> + <p> + “I believed I would not fall. And you believed it, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “I believed nothing. I simply trusted you, as you asked me.” + </p> + <p> + “Quod erat demonstrandum!” cried Rowland. “I think you know Latin.” + </p> + <p> + When our four friends were established in what I have called their grassy + valley, there was a good deal of scrambling over slopes both grassy and + stony, a good deal of flower-plucking on narrow ledges, a great many long + walks, and, thanks to the lucid mountain air, not a little exhilaration. + Mrs. Hudson was obliged to intermit her suspicions of the deleterious + atmosphere of the old world, and to acknowledge the edifying purity of the + breezes of Engelthal. She was certainly more placid than she had been in + Italy; having always lived in the country, she had missed in Rome and + Florence that social solitude mitigated by bushes and rocks which is so + dear to the true New England temperament. The little unpainted inn at + Engelthal, with its plank partitions, its milk-pans standing in the sun, + its “help,” in the form of angular young women of the country-side, + reminded her of places of summer sojourn in her native land; and the + beautiful historic chambers of the Villa Pandolfini passed from her memory + without a regret, and without having in the least modified her ideal of + domiciliary grace. Roderick had changed his sky, but he had not changed + his mind; his humor was still that of which he had given Rowland a glimpse + in that tragic explosion on the Lake of Como. He kept his despair to + himself, and he went doggedly about the ordinary business of life; but it + was easy to see that his spirit was mortally heavy, and that he lived and + moved and talked simply from the force of habit. In that sad half-hour + among the Italian olives there had been such a fierce sincerity in his + tone, that Rowland began to abdicate the critical attitude. He began to + feel that it was essentially vain to appeal to the poor fellow’s will; + there was no will left; its place was an impotent void. This view of the + case indeed was occasionally contravened by certain indications on + Roderick’s part of the power of resistance to disagreeable obligations: + one might still have said, if one had been disposed to be didactic at any + hazard, that there was a method in his madness, that his moral energy had + its sleeping and its waking hours, and that, in a cause that pleased it, + it was capable of rising with the dawn. But on the other hand, pleasure, + in this case, was quite at one with effort; evidently the greatest bliss + in life, for Roderick, would have been to have a plastic idea. And then, + it was impossible not to feel tenderly to a despair which had so ceased to + be aggressive—not to forgive a great deal of apathy to a temper + which had so unlearned its irritability. Roderick said frankly that + Switzerland made him less miserable than Italy, and the Alps seemed less + to mock at his enforced leisure than the Apennines. He indulged in long + rambles, generally alone, and was very fond of climbing into dizzy places, + where no sound could overtake him, and there, flinging himself on the + never-trodden moss, of pulling his hat over his eyes and lounging away the + hours in perfect immobility. Rowland sometimes walked with him; though + Roderick never invited him, he seemed duly grateful for his society. + Rowland now made it a rule to treat him like a perfectly sane man, to + assume that all things were well with him, and never to allude to the + prosperity he had forfeited or to the work he was not doing. He would have + still said, had you questioned him, that Roderick’s condition was a mood—certainly + a puzzling one. It might last yet for many a weary hour; but it was a long + lane that had no turning. Roderick’s blues would not last forever. + Rowland’s interest in Miss Garland’s relations with her cousin was still + profoundly attentive, and perplexed as he was on all sides, he found + nothing transparent here. After their arrival at Engelthal, Roderick + appeared to seek the young girl’s society more than he had done hitherto, + and this revival of ardor could not fail to set his friend a-wondering. + They sat together and strolled together, and Miss Garland often read aloud + to him. One day, on their coming to dinner, after he had been lying half + the morning at her feet, in the shadow of a rock, Rowland asked him what + she had been reading. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” Roderick said, “I don’t heed the sense.” Miss Garland + heard this, and Rowland looked at her. She looked at Roderick sharply and + with a little blush. “I listen to Mary,” Roderick continued, “for the sake + of her voice. It ‘s distractingly sweet!” At this Miss Garland’s blush + deepened, and she looked away. + </p> + <p> + Rowland, in Florence, as we know, had suffered his imagination to wander + in the direction of certain conjectures which the reader may deem + unflattering to Miss Garland’s constancy. He had asked himself whether her + faith in Roderick had not faltered, and that demand of hers which had + brought about his own departure for Switzerland had seemed almost + equivalent to a confession that she needed his help to believe. Rowland + was essentially a modest man, and he did not risk the supposition that + Miss Garland had contrasted him with Roderick to his own advantage; but he + had a certain consciousness of duty resolutely done which allowed itself + to fancy, at moments, that it might be not illogically rewarded by the + bestowal of such stray grains of enthusiasm as had crumbled away from her + estimate of his companion. If some day she had declared, in a sudden burst + of passion, that she was outwearied and sickened, and that she gave up her + recreant lover, Rowland’s expectation would have gone half-way to meet + her. And certainly if her passion had taken this course no generous critic + would utterly condemn her. She had been neglected, ignored, forsaken, + treated with a contempt which no girl of a fine temper could endure. There + were girls, indeed, whose fineness, like that of Burd Helen in the ballad, + lay in clinging to the man of their love through thick and thin, and in + bowing their head to all hard usage. This attitude had often an exquisite + beauty of its own, but Rowland deemed that he had solid reason to believe + it never could be Mary Garland’s. She was not a passive creature; she was + not soft and meek and grateful for chance bounties. With all her reserve + of manner she was proud and eager; she asked much and she wanted what she + asked; she believed in fine things and she never could long persuade + herself that fine things missed were as beautiful as fine things achieved. + Once Rowland passed an angry day. He had dreamed—it was the most + insubstantial of dreams—that she had given him the right to believe + that she looked to him to transmute her discontent. And yet here she was + throwing herself back into Roderick’s arms at his lightest overture, and + playing with his own half fearful, half shameful hopes! Rowland declared + to himself that his position was essentially detestable, and that all the + philosophy he could bring to bear upon it would make it neither honorable + nor comfortable. He would go away and make an end of it. He did not go + away; he simply took a long walk, stayed away from the inn all day, and on + his return found Miss Garland sitting out in the moonlight with Roderick. + </p> + <p> + Rowland, communing with himself during the restless ramble in question, + had determined that he would at least cease to observe, to heed, or to + care for what Miss Garland and Roderick might do or might not do together. + Nevertheless, some three days afterward, the opportunity presenting + itself, he deliberately broached the subject with Roderick. He knew this + was inconsistent and faint-hearted; it was indulgence to the fingers that + itched to handle forbidden fruit. But he said to himself that it was + really more logical to be inconsistent than the reverse; for they had + formerly discussed these mysteries very candidly. Was it not perfectly + reasonable that he should wish to know the sequel of the situation which + Roderick had then delineated? Roderick had made him promises, and it was + to be expected that he should ascertain how the promises had been kept. + Rowland could not say to himself that if the promises had been extorted + for Mary Garland’s sake, his present attention to them was equally + disinterested; and so he had to admit that he was indeed faint-hearted. He + may perhaps be deemed too narrow a casuist, but we have repeated more than + once that he was solidly burdened with a conscience. + </p> + <p> + “I imagine,” he said to Roderick, “that you are not sorry, at present, to + have allowed yourself to be dissuaded from making a final rupture with + Miss Garland.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick eyed him with the vague and absent look which had lately become + habitual to his face, and repeated “Dissuaded?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you remember that, in Rome, you wished to break your engagement, + and that I urged you to respect it, though it seemed to hang by so slender + a thread? I wished you to see what would come of it? If I am not mistaken, + you are reconciled to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” said Roderick, “I remember what you said; you made it a kind of + personal favor to yourself that I should remain faithful. I consented, but + afterwards, when I thought of it, your attitude greatly amused me. Had it + ever been seen before?—a man asking another man to gratify him by + not suspending his attentions to a pretty girl!” + </p> + <p> + “It was as selfish as anything else,” said Rowland. “One man puts his + selfishness into one thing, and one into another. It would have utterly + marred my comfort to see Miss Garland in low spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “But you liked her—you admired her, eh? So you intimated.” + </p> + <p> + “I admire her profoundly.” + </p> + <p> + “It was your originality then—to do you justice you have a great + deal, of a certain sort—to wish her happiness secured in just that + fashion. Many a man would have liked better himself to make the woman he + admired happy, and would have welcomed her low spirits as an opening for + sympathy. You were awfully queer about it.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it!” said Rowland. “The question is, Are you not glad I was queer? + Are you not finding that your affection for Miss Garland has a permanent + quality which you rather underestimated?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t pretend to say. When she arrived in Rome, I found I did n’t care + for her, and I honestly proposed that we should have no humbug about it. + If you, on the contrary, thought there was something to be gained by + having a little humbug, I was willing to try it! I don’t see that the + situation is really changed. Mary Garland is all that she ever was—more + than all. But I don’t care for her! I don’t care for anything, and I don’t + find myself inspired to make an exception in her favor. The only + difference is that I don’t care now, whether I care for her or not. Of + course, marrying such a useless lout as I am is out of the question for + any woman, and I should pay Miss Garland a poor compliment to assume that + she is in a hurry to celebrate our nuptials.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you ‘re in love!” said Rowland, not very logically. It must be + confessed, at any cost, that this assertion was made for the sole purpose + of hearing Roderick deny it. + </p> + <p> + But it quite failed of its aim. Roderick gave a liberal shrug of his + shoulders and an irresponsible toss of his head. “Call it what you please! + I am past caring for names.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland had not only been illogical, he had also been slightly + disingenuous. He did not believe that his companion was in love; he had + argued the false to learn the true. The true was that Roderick was again, + in some degree, under a charm, and that he found a healing virtue in + Mary’s presence, indisposed though he was to admit it. He had said, + shortly before, that her voice was sweet to his ear; and this was a + promising beginning. If her voice was sweet it was probable that her + glance was not amiss, that her touch had a quiet magic, and that her whole + personal presence had learned the art of not being irritating. So Rowland + reasoned, and invested Mary Garland with a still finer loveliness. + </p> + <p> + It was true that she herself helped him little to definite conclusions, + and that he remained in puzzled doubt as to whether these happy touches + were still a matter of the heart, or had become simply a matter of the + conscience. He watched for signs that she rejoiced in Roderick’s renewed + acceptance of her society; but it seemed to him that she was on her guard + against interpreting it too largely. It was now her turn—he fancied + that he sometimes gathered from certain nameless indications of glance and + tone and gesture—it was now her turn to be indifferent, to care for + other things. Again and again Rowland asked himself what these things were + that Miss Garland might be supposed to care for, to the injury of ideal + constancy; and again, having designated them, he divided them into two + portions. One was that larger experience, in general, which had come to + her with her arrival in Europe; the vague sense, borne in upon her + imagination, that there were more things one might do with one’s life than + youth and ignorance and Northampton had dreamt of; the revision of old + pledges in the light of new emotions. The other was the experience, in + especial, of Rowland’s—what? Here Rowland always paused, in perfect + sincerity, to measure afresh his possible claim to the young girl’s + regard. What might he call it? It had been more than civility and yet it + had been less than devotion. It had spoken of a desire to serve, but it + had said nothing of a hope of reward. Nevertheless, Rowland’s fancy + hovered about the idea that it was recompensable, and his reflections + ended in a reverie which perhaps did not define it, but at least, on each + occasion, added a little to its volume. Since Miss Garland had asked him + as a sort of favor to herself to come also to Switzerland, he thought it + possible she might let him know whether he seemed to have effectively + served her. The days passed without her doing so, and at last Rowland + walked away to an isolated eminence some five miles from the inn and + murmured to the silent rocks that she was ungrateful. Listening nature + seemed not to contradict him, so that, on the morrow, he asked the young + girl, with an infinitesimal touch of irony, whether it struck her that his + deflection from his Florentine plan had been attended with brilliant + results. + </p> + <p> + “Why, we are delighted that you are with us!” she answered. + </p> + <p> + He was anything but satisfied with this; it seemed to imply that she had + forgotten that she had solemnly asked him to come. He reminded her of her + request, and recalled the place and time. “That evening on the terrace, + late, after Mrs. Hudson had gone to bed, and Roderick being absent.” + </p> + <p> + She perfectly remembered, but the memory seemed to trouble her. “I am + afraid your kindness has been a great charge upon you,” she said. “You + wanted very much to do something else.” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted above all things to oblige you, and I made no sacrifice. But if + I had made an immense one, it would be more than made up to me by any + assurance that I have helped Roderick into a better mood.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent a moment, and then, “Why do you ask me?” she said. “You are + able to judge quite as well as I.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland blushed; he desired to justify himself in the most veracious + manner. “The truth is,” he said, “that I am afraid I care only in the + second place for Roderick’s holding up his head. What I care for in the + first place is your happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know why that should be,” she answered. “I have certainly done + nothing to make you so much my friend. If you were to tell me you intended + to leave us to-morrow, I am afraid that I should not venture to ask you to + stay. But whether you go or stay, let us not talk of Roderick!” + </p> + <p> + “But that,” said Rowland, “does n’t answer my question. Is he better?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” she said, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + He was careful not to tell her that he intended to leave them. One day, + shortly after this, as the two young men sat at the inn-door watching the + sunset, which on that evening was very striking and lurid, Rowland made an + attempt to sound his companion’s present sentiment touching Christina + Light. “I wonder where she is,” he said, “and what sort of a life she is + leading her prince.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick at first made no response. He was watching a figure on the summit + of some distant rocks, opposite to them. The figure was apparently + descending into the valley, and in relief against the crimson screen of + the western sky, it looked gigantic. “Christina Light?” Roderick at last + repeated, as if arousing himself from a reverie. “Where she is? It ‘s + extraordinary how little I care!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you, then, completely got over it?” + </p> + <p> + To this Roderick made no direct reply; he sat brooding a while. “She ‘s a + humbug!” he presently exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly!” said Rowland. “But I have known worse ones.” + </p> + <p> + “She disappointed me!” Roderick continued in the same tone. + </p> + <p> + “Had she, then, really given you hopes?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t recall it!” Roderick cried. “Why the devil should I think of + it? It was only three months ago, but it seems like ten years.” His friend + said nothing more, and after a while he went on of his own accord. “I + believed there was a future in it all! She pleased me—pleased me; + and when an artist—such as I was—is pleased, you know!” And he + paused again. “You never saw her as I did; you never heard her in her + great moments. But there is no use talking about that! At first she would + n’t regard me seriously; she chaffed me and made light of me. But at last + I forced her to admit I was a great man. Think of that, sir! Christina + Light called me a great man. A great man was what she was looking for, and + we agreed to find our happiness for life in each other. To please me she + promised not to marry till I gave her leave. I was not in a marrying way + myself, but it was damnation to think of another man possessing her. To + spare my sensibilities, she promised to turn off her prince, and the idea + of her doing so made me as happy as to see a perfect statue shaping itself + in the block. You have seen how she kept her promise! When I learned it, + it was as if the statue had suddenly cracked and turned hideous. She died + for me, like that!” And he snapped his fingers. “Was it wounded vanity, + disappointed desire, betrayed confidence? I am sure I don’t know; you + certainly have some name for it.” + </p> + <p> + “The poor girl did the best she could,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “If that was her best, so much the worse for her! I have hardly thought of + her these two months, but I have not forgiven her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you may believe that you are avenged. I can’t think of her as + happy.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t pity her!” said Roderick. Then he relapsed into silence, and the + two sat watching the colossal figure as it made its way downward along the + jagged silhouette of the rocks. “Who is this mighty man,” cried Roderick + at last, “and what is he coming down upon us for? We are small people + here, and we can’t undertake to keep company with giants.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till we meet him on our own level,” said Rowland, “and perhaps he + will not overtop us.” + </p> + <p> + “For ten minutes, at least,” Roderick rejoined, “he will have been a great + man!” At this moment the figure sank beneath the horizon line and became + invisible in the uncertain light. Suddenly Roderick said, “I would like to + see her once more—simply to look at her.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not advise it,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “It was her beauty that did it!” Roderick went on. “It was all her beauty; + in comparison, the rest was nothing. What befooled me was to think of it + as my property! And I had made it mine—no one else had studied it as + I had, no one else understood it. What does that stick of a Casamassima + know about it at this hour? I should like to see it just once more; it ‘s + the only thing in the world of which I can say so.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not advise it,” Rowland repeated. + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s right, dear Rowland,” said Roderick; “don’t advise! That ‘s no + use now.” + </p> + <p> + The dusk meanwhile had thickened, and they had not perceived a figure + approaching them across the open space in front of the house. Suddenly it + stepped into the circle of light projected from the door and windows, and + they beheld little Sam Singleton stopping to stare at them. He was the + giant whom they had seen descending along the rocks. When this was made + apparent Roderick was seized with a fit of intense hilarity—it was + the first time he had laughed in three months. Singleton, who carried a + knapsack and walking-staff, received from Rowland the friendliest welcome. + He was in the serenest possible humor, and if in the way of luggage his + knapsack contained nothing but a comb and a second shirt, he produced from + it a dozen admirable sketches. He had been trudging over half Switzerland + and making everywhere the most vivid pictorial notes. They were mostly in + a box at Interlaken, and in gratitude for Rowland’s appreciation, he + presently telegraphed for his box, which, according to the excellent Swiss + method, was punctually delivered by post. The nights were cold, and our + friends, with three or four other chance sojourners, sat in-doors over a + fire of logs. Even with Roderick sitting moodily in the outer shadow they + made a sympathetic little circle, and they turned over Singleton’s + drawings, while he perched in the chimney-corner, blushing and grinning, + with his feet on the rounds of his chair. He had been pedestrianizing for + six weeks, and he was glad to rest awhile at Engelthal. It was an economic + repose, however, for he sallied forth every morning, with his sketching + tools on his back, in search of material for new studies. Roderick’s + hilarity, after the first evening, had subsided, and he watched the little + painter’s serene activity with a gravity that was almost portentous. + Singleton, who was not in the secret of his personal misfortunes, still + treated him with timid frankness as the rising star of American art. + Roderick had said to Rowland, at first, that Singleton reminded him of + some curious little insect with a remarkable mechanical instinct in its + antennae; but as the days went by it was apparent that the modest + landscapist’s unflagging industry grew to have an oppressive meaning for + him. It pointed a moral, and Roderick used to sit and con the moral as he + saw it figured in Singleton’s bent back, on the hot hill-sides, protruding + from beneath his white umbrella. One day he wandered up a long slope and + overtook him as he sat at work; Singleton related the incident afterwards + to Rowland, who, after giving him in Rome a hint of Roderick’s + aberrations, had strictly kept his own counsel. + </p> + <p> + “Are you always like this?” said Roderick, in almost sepulchral accents. + </p> + <p> + “Like this?” repeated Singleton, blinking confusedly, with an alarmed + conscience. + </p> + <p> + “You remind me of a watch that never runs down. If one listens hard one + hears you always—tic-tic, tic-tic.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see,” said Singleton, beaming ingenuously. “I am very equable.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very equable, yes. And do you find it pleasant to be equable?” + </p> + <p> + Singleton turned and grinned more brightly, while he sucked the water from + his camel’s-hair brush. Then, with a quickened sense of his indebtedness + to a Providence that had endowed him with intrinsic facilities, “Oh, + delightful!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Roderick stood looking at him a moment. “Damnation!” he said at last, + solemnly, and turned his back. + </p> + <p> + One morning, shortly after this, Rowland and Roderick took a long walk. + They had walked before in a dozen different directions, but they had not + yet crossed a charming little wooded pass, which shut in their valley on + one side and descended into the vale of Engelberg. In coming from Lucerne + they had approached their inn by this path, and, feeling that they knew + it, had hitherto neglected it in favor of untrodden ways. But at last the + list of these was exhausted, and Rowland proposed the walk to Engelberg as + a novelty. The place is half bleak and half pastoral; a huge white + monastery rises abruptly from the green floor of the valley and + complicates its picturesqueness with an element rare in Swiss scenery. + Hard by is a group of chalets and inns, with the usual appurtenances of a + prosperous Swiss resort—lean brown guides in baggy homespun, + lounging under carved wooden galleries, stacks of alpenstocks in every + doorway, sun-scorched Englishmen without shirt-collars. Our two friends + sat a while at the door of an inn, discussing a pint of wine, and then + Roderick, who was indefatigable, announced his intention of climbing to a + certain rocky pinnacle which overhung the valley, and, according to the + testimony of one of the guides, commanded a view of the Lake of Lucerne. + To go and come back was only a matter of an hour, but Rowland, with the + prospect of his homeward trudge before him, confessed to a preference for + lounging on his bench, or at most strolling a trifle farther and taking a + look at the monastery. Roderick went off alone, and his companion after a + while bent his steps to the monasterial church. It was remarkable, like + most of the churches of Catholic Switzerland, for a hideous style of + devotional ornament; but it had a certain cold and musty picturesqueness, + and Rowland lingered there with some tenderness for Alpine piety. While he + was near the high-altar some people came in at the west door; but he did + not notice them, and was presently engaged in deciphering a curious old + German epitaph on one of the mural tablets. At last he turned away, + wondering whether its syntax or its theology was the more uncomfortable, + and, to this infinite surprise, found himself confronted with the Prince + and Princess Casamassima. + </p> + <p> + The surprise on Christina’s part, for an instant, was equal, and at first + she seemed disposed to turn away without letting it give place to a + greeting. The prince, however, saluted gravely, and then Christina, in + silence, put out her hand. Rowland immediately asked whether they were + staying at Engelberg, but Christina only looked at him without speaking. + The prince answered his questions, and related that they had been making a + month’s tour in Switzerland, that at Lucerne his wife had been somewhat + obstinately indisposed, and that the physician had recommended a week’s + trial of the tonic air and goat’s milk of Engelberg. The scenery, said the + prince, was stupendous, but the life was terribly sad—and they had + three days more! It was a blessing, he urbanely added, to see a good Roman + face. + </p> + <p> + Christina’s attitude, her solemn silence and her penetrating gaze seemed + to Rowland, at first, to savor of affectation; but he presently perceived + that she was profoundly agitated, and that she was afraid of betraying + herself. “Do let us leave this hideous edifice,” she said; “there are + things here that set one’s teeth on edge.” They moved slowly to the door, + and when they stood outside, in the sunny coolness of the valley, she + turned to Rowland and said, “I am extremely glad to see you.” Then she + glanced about her and observed, against the wall of the church, an old + stone seat. She looked at Prince Casamassima a moment, and he smiled more + intensely, Rowland thought, than the occasion demanded. “I wish to sit + here,” she said, “and speak to Mr. Mallet—alone.” + </p> + <p> + “At your pleasure, dear friend,” said the prince. + </p> + <p> + The tone of each was measured, to Rowland’s ear; but that of Christina was + dry, and that of her husband was splendidly urbane. Rowland remembered + that the Cavaliere Giacosa had told him that Mrs. Light’s candidate was + thoroughly a prince, and our friend wondered how he relished a peremptory + accent. Casamassima was an Italian of the undemonstrative type, but + Rowland nevertheless divined that, like other princes before him, he had + made the acquaintance of the thing called compromise. “Shall I come back?” + he asked with the same smile. + </p> + <p> + “In half an hour,” said Christina. + </p> + <p> + In the clear outer light, Rowland’s first impression of her was that she + was more beautiful than ever. And yet in three months she could hardly + have changed; the change was in Rowland’s own vision of her, which that + last interview, on the eve of her marriage, had made unprecedentedly + tender. + </p> + <p> + “How came you here?” she asked. “Are you staying in this place?” + </p> + <p> + “I am staying at Engelthal, some ten miles away; I walked over.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you alone?” + </p> + <p> + “I am with Mr. Hudson.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he here with you?” + </p> + <p> + “He went half an hour ago to climb a rock for a view.” + </p> + <p> + “And his mother and that young girl, where are they?” + </p> + <p> + “They also are at Engelthal.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you do there?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you do here?” said Rowland, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I count the minutes till my week is up. I hate mountains; they depress me + to death. I am sure Miss Garland likes them.” + </p> + <p> + “She is very fond of them, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe—don’t you know? But I have given up trying to imitate + Miss Garland,” said Christina. + </p> + <p> + “You surely need imitate no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t say that,” she said gravely. “So you have walked ten miles this + morning? And you are to walk back again?” + </p> + <p> + “Back again to supper.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Hudson too?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hudson especially. He is a great walker.” + </p> + <p> + “You men are happy!” Christina cried. “I believe I should enjoy the + mountains if I could do such things. It is sitting still and having them + scowl down at you! Prince Casamassina never rides. He only goes on a mule. + He was carried up the Faulhorn on a litter.” + </p> + <p> + “On a litter?” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “In one of those machines—a chaise a porteurs—like a woman.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland received this information in silence; it was equally unbecoming to + either relish or deprecate its irony. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Hudson to join you again? Will he come here?” Christina asked. + </p> + <p> + “I shall soon begin to expect him.” + </p> + <p> + “What shall you do when you leave Switzerland?” Christina continued. + “Shall you go back to Rome?” + </p> + <p> + “I rather doubt it. My plans are very uncertain.” + </p> + <p> + “They depend upon Mr. Hudson, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “In a great measure.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to tell me about him. Is he still in that perverse state of + mind that afflicted you so much?” + </p> + <p> + Rowland looked at her mistrustfully, without answering. He was indisposed, + instinctively, to tell her that Roderick was unhappy; it was possible she + might offer to help him back to happiness. She immediately perceived his + hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “I see no reason why we should not be frank,” she said. “I should think we + were excellently placed for that sort of thing. You remember that formerly + I cared very little what I said, don’t you? Well, I care absolutely not at + all now. I say what I please, I do what I please! How did Mr. Hudson + receive the news of my marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “Very badly,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “With rage and reproaches?” And as Rowland hesitated again—“With + silent contempt?” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you but little. He spoke to me on the subject, but I stopped + him. I told him it was none of his business, or of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “That was an excellent answer!” said Christina, softly. “Yet it was a + little your business, after those sublime protestations I treated you to. + I was really very fine that morning, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “You do yourself injustice,” said Rowland. “I should be at liberty now to + believe you were insincere.” + </p> + <p> + “What does it matter now whether I was insincere or not? I can’t conceive + of anything mattering less. I was very fine—is n’t it true?” + </p> + <p> + “You know what I think of you,” said Rowland. And for fear of being forced + to betray his suspicion of the cause of her change, he took refuge in a + commonplace. “Your mother, I hope, is well.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother is in the enjoyment of superb health, and may be seen every + evening at the Casino, at the Baths of Lucca, confiding to every new-comer + that she has married her daughter to a pearl of a prince.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland was anxious for news of Mrs. Light’s companion, and the natural + course was frankly to inquire about him. “And the Cavaliere Giacosa is + well?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Christina hesitated, but she betrayed no other embarrassment. “The + Cavaliere has retired to his native city of Ancona, upon a pension, for + the rest of his natural life. He is a very good old man!” + </p> + <p> + “I have a great regard for him,” said Rowland, gravely, at the same time + that he privately wondered whether the Cavaliere’s pension was paid by + Prince Casamassima for services rendered in connection with his marriage. + Had the Cavaliere received his commission? “And what do you do,” Rowland + continued, “on leaving this place?” + </p> + <p> + “We go to Italy—we go to Naples.” She rose and stood silent a + moment, looking down the valley. The figure of Prince Casamassima appeared + in the distance, balancing his white umbrella. As her eyes rested upon it, + Rowland imagined that he saw something deeper in the strange expression + which had lurked in her face while he talked to her. At first he had been + dazzled by her blooming beauty, to which the lapse of weeks had only added + splendor; then he had seen a heavier ray in the light of her eye—a + sinister intimation of sadness and bitterness. It was the outward mark of + her sacrificed ideal. Her eyes grew cold as she looked at her husband, and + when, after a moment, she turned them upon Rowland, they struck him as + intensely tragical. He felt a singular mixture of sympathy and dread; he + wished to give her a proof of friendship, and yet it seemed to him that + she had now turned her face in a direction where friendship was impotent + to interpose. She half read his feelings, apparently, and she gave a + beautiful, sad smile. “I hope we may never meet again!” she said. And as + Rowland gave her a protesting look—“You have seen me at my best. I + wish to tell you solemnly, I was sincere! I know appearances are against + me,” she went on quickly. “There is a great deal I can’t tell you. Perhaps + you have guessed it; I care very little. You know, at any rate, I did my + best. It would n’t serve; I was beaten and broken; they were stronger than + I. Now it ‘s another affair!” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me you have a large chance for happiness yet,” said Rowland, + vaguely. + </p> + <p> + “Happiness? I mean to cultivate rapture; I mean to go in for bliss + ineffable! You remember I told you that I was, in part, the world’s and + the devil’s. Now they have taken me all. It was their choice; may they + never repent!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall hear of you,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “You will hear of me. And whatever you do hear, remember this: I was + sincere!” + </p> + <p> + Prince Casamassima had approached, and Rowland looked at him with a good + deal of simple compassion as a part of that “world” against which + Christina had launched her mysterious menace. It was obvious that he was a + good fellow, and that he could not, in the nature of things, be a + positively bad husband; but his distinguished inoffensiveness only + deepened the infelicity of Christina’s situation by depriving her defiant + attitude of the sanction of relative justice. So long as she had been free + to choose, she had esteemed him: but from the moment she was forced to + marry him she had detested him. Rowland read in the young man’s elastic + Italian mask a profound consciousness of all this; and as he found there + also a record of other curious things—of pride, of temper, of + bigotry, of an immense heritage of more or less aggressive traditions—he + reflected that the matrimonial conjunction of his two companions might be + sufficiently prolific in incident. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to Naples?” Rowland said to the prince by way of + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “We are going to Paris,” Christina interposed, slowly and softly. “We are + going to London. We are going to Vienna. We are going to St. Petersburg.” + </p> + <p> + Prince Casamassima dropped his eyes and fretted the earth with the point + of his umbrella. While he engaged Rowland’s attention Christina turned + away. When Rowland glanced at her again he saw a change pass over her + face; she was observing something that was concealed from his own eyes by + the angle of the church-wall. In a moment Roderick stepped into sight. + </p> + <p> + He stopped short, astonished; his face and figure were jaded, his garments + dusty. He looked at Christina from head to foot, and then, slowly, his + cheek flushed and his eye expanded. Christina returned his gaze, and for + some moments there was a singular silence. “You don’t look well!” + Christina said at last. + </p> + <p> + Roderick answered nothing; he only looked and looked, as if she had been a + statue. “You are no less beautiful!” he presently cried. + </p> + <p> + She turned away with a smile, and stood a while gazing down the valley; + Roderick stared at Prince Casamassima. Christina then put out her hand to + Rowland. “Farewell,” she said. “If you are near me in future, don’t try to + see me!” And then, after a pause, in a lower tone, “I was sincere!” She + addressed herself again to Roderick and asked him some commonplace about + his walk. But he said nothing; he only looked at her. Rowland at first had + expected an outbreak of reproach, but it was evident that the danger was + every moment diminishing. He was forgetting everything but her beauty, and + as she stood there and let him feast upon it, Rowland was sure that she + knew it. “I won’t say farewell to you,” she said; “we shall meet again!” + And she moved gravely away. Prince Casamassima took leave courteously of + Rowland; upon Roderick he bestowed a bow of exaggerated civility. Roderick + appeared not to see it; he was still watching Christina, as she passed + over the grass. His eyes followed her until she reached the door of her + inn. Here she stopped and looked back at him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. Switzerland + </h2> + <p> + On the homeward walk, that evening, Roderick preserved a silence which + Rowland allowed to make him uneasy. Early on the morrow Roderick, saying + nothing of his intentions, started off on a walk; Rowland saw him striding + with light steps along the rugged path to Engelberg. He was absent all day + and he gave no account of himself on his return. He said he was deadly + tired, and he went to bed early. When he had left the room Miss Garland + drew near to Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to ask you a question,” she said. “What happened to Roderick + yesterday at Engelberg?” + </p> + <p> + “You have discovered that something happened?” Rowland answered. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it. Was it something painful?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know how, at the present moment, he judges it. He met the + Princess Casamassima.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” said Miss Garland, simply, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + The conversation had been brief, but, like many small things, it furnished + Rowland with food for reflection. When one is looking for symptoms one + easily finds them. This was the first time Mary Garland had asked Rowland + a question which it was in Roderick’s power to answer, the first time she + had frankly betrayed Roderick’s reticence. Rowland ventured to think it + marked an era. + </p> + <p> + The next morning was sultry, and the air, usually so fresh at those + altitudes, was oppressively heavy. Rowland lounged on the grass a while, + near Singleton, who was at work under his white umbrella, within view of + the house; and then in quest of coolness he wandered away to the rocky + ridge whence you looked across at the Jungfrau. To-day, however, the white + summits were invisible; their heads were muffled in sullen clouds and the + valleys beneath them curtained in dun-colored mist. Rowland had a book in + his pocket, and he took it out and opened it. But his page remained + unturned; his own thoughts were more importunate. His interview with + Christina Light had made a great impression upon him, and he was haunted + with the memory of her almost blameless bitterness, and of all that was + tragic and fatal in her latest transformation. These things were immensely + appealing, and Rowland thought with infinite impatience of Roderick’s + having again encountered them. It required little imagination to apprehend + that the young sculptor’s condition had also appealed to Christina. His + consummate indifference, his supreme defiance, would make him a + magnificent trophy, and Christina had announced with sufficient + distinctness that she had said good-by to scruples. It was her fancy at + present to treat the world as a garden of pleasure, and if, hitherto, she + had played with Roderick’s passion on its stem, there was little doubt + that now she would pluck it with an unfaltering hand and drain it of its + acrid sweetness. And why the deuce need Roderick have gone marching back + to destruction? Rowland’s meditations, even when they began in rancor, + often brought him peace; but on this occasion they ushered in a quite + peculiar quality of unrest. He felt conscious of a sudden collapse in his + moral energy; a current that had been flowing for two years with liquid + strength seemed at last to pause and evaporate. Rowland looked away at the + stagnant vapors on the mountains; their dreariness seemed a symbol of the + dreariness which his own generosity had bequeathed him. At last he had + arrived at the uttermost limit of the deference a sane man might pay to + other people’s folly; nay, rather, he had transgressed it; he had been + befooled on a gigantic scale. He turned to his book and tried to woo back + patience, but it gave him cold comfort and he tossed it angrily away. He + pulled his hat over his eyes, and tried to wonder, dispassionately, + whether atmospheric conditions had not something to do with his ill-humor. + He remained for some time in this attitude, but was finally aroused from + it by a singular sense that, although he had heard nothing, some one had + approached him. He looked up and saw Roderick standing before him on the + turf. His mood made the spectacle unwelcome, and for a moment he felt like + uttering an uncivil speech. Roderick stood looking at him with an + expression of countenance which had of late become rare. There was an + unfamiliar spark in his eye and a certain imperious alertness in his + carriage. Confirmed habit, with Rowland, came speedily to the front. “What + is it now?” he asked himself, and invited Roderick to sit down. Roderick + had evidently something particular to say, and if he remained silent for a + time it was not because he was ashamed of it. + </p> + <p> + “I would like you to do me a favor,” he said at last. “Lend me some + money.” + </p> + <p> + “How much do you wish?” Rowland asked. + </p> + <p> + “Say a thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland hesitated a moment. “I don’t wish to be indiscreet, but may I ask + what you propose to do with a thousand francs?” + </p> + <p> + “To go to Interlaken.” + </p> + <p> + “And why are you going to Interlaken?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick replied without a shadow of wavering, “Because that woman is to + be there.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland burst out laughing, but Roderick remained serenely grave. “You + have forgiven her, then?” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither do I. I only know that she is incomparably beautiful, and that + she has waked me up amazingly. Besides, she asked me to come.” + </p> + <p> + “She asked you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday, in so many words.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the jade!” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. I am willing to take her for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why in the name of common sense did you go back to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Why did I find her standing there like a goddess who had just stepped out + of her cloud? Why did I look at her? Before I knew where I was, the harm + was done.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland, who had been sitting erect, threw himself back on the grass and + lay for some time staring up at the sky. At last, raising himself, “Are + you perfectly serious?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Deadly serious.” + </p> + <p> + “Your idea is to remain at Interlaken some time?” + </p> + <p> + “Indefinitely!” said Roderick; and it seemed to his companion that the + tone in which he said this made it immensely well worth hearing. + </p> + <p> + “And your mother and cousin, meanwhile, are to remain here? It will soon + be getting very cold, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “It does n’t seem much like it to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true; but to-day is a day by itself.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to prevent their going back to Lucerne. I depend upon + your taking charge of them.” + </p> + <p> + At this Rowland reclined upon the grass again; and again, after + reflection, he faced his friend. “How would you express,” he asked, “the + character of the profit that you expect to derive from your excursion?” + </p> + <p> + “I see no need of expressing it. The proof of the pudding is in the + eating! The case is simply this. I desire immensely to be near Christina + Light, and it is such a huge refreshment to find myself again desiring + something, that I propose to drift with the current. As I say, she has + waked me up, and it is possible something may come of it. She makes me + feel as if I were alive again. This,” and he glanced down at the inn, “I + call death!” + </p> + <p> + “That I am very grateful to hear. You really feel as if you might do + something?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ask too much. I only know that she makes my heart beat, makes me + see visions.” + </p> + <p> + “You feel encouraged?” + </p> + <p> + “I feel excited.” + </p> + <p> + “You are really looking better.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it. Now that I have answered your questions, please to + give me the money.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland shook his head. “For that purpose, I can’t!” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t?” + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s impossible. Your plan is rank folly. I can’t help you in it.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick flushed a little, and his eye expanded. “I will borrow what money + I can, then, from Mary!” This was not viciously said; it had simply the + ring of passionate resolution. + </p> + <p> + Instantly it brought Rowland to terms. He took a bunch of keys from his + pocket and tossed it upon the grass. “The little brass one opens my + dressing-case,” he said. “You will find money in it.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick let the keys lie; something seemed to have struck him; he looked + askance at his friend. “You are awfully gallant!” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly are not. Your proposal is an outrage.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely. It ‘s a proof the more of my desire.” + </p> + <p> + “If you have so much steam on, then, use it for something else. You say + you are awake again. I am delighted; only be so in the best sense. Is n’t + it very plain? If you have the energy to desire, you have also the energy + to reason and to judge. If you can care to go, you can also care to stay, + and staying being the more profitable course, the inspiration, on that + side, for a man who has his self-confidence to win back again, should be + greater.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick, plainly, did not relish this simple logic, and his eye grew + angry as he listened to its echo. “Oh, the devil!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Rowland went on. “Do you believe that hanging about Christina Light will + do you any good? Do you believe it won’t? In either case you should keep + away from her. If it won’t, it ‘s your duty; and if it will, you can get + on without it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do me good?” cried Roderick. “What do I want of ‘good’—what should + I do with ‘good’? I want what she gives me, call it by what name you will. + I want to ask no questions, but to take what comes and let it fill the + impossible hours! But I did n’t come to discuss the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the least desire to discuss it,” said Rowland. “I simply + protest.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick meditated a moment. “I have never yet thought twice of accepting + a favor of you,” he said at last; “but this one sticks in my throat.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not a favor; I lend you the money only under compulsion.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I will take it only under compulsion!” Roderick exclaimed. + And he sprang up abruptly and marched away. + </p> + <p> + His words were ambiguous; Rowland lay on the grass, wondering what they + meant. Half an hour had not elapsed before Roderick reappeared, heated + with rapid walking, and wiping his forehead. He flung himself down and + looked at his friend with an eye which expressed something purer than + bravado and yet baser than conviction. + </p> + <p> + “I have done my best!” he said. “My mother is out of money; she is + expecting next week some circular notes from London. She had only ten + francs in her pocket. Mary Garland gave me every sou she possessed in the + world. It makes exactly thirty-four francs. That ‘s not enough.” + </p> + <p> + “You asked Miss Garland?” cried Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “I asked her.” + </p> + <p> + “And told her your purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “I named no names. But she knew!” + </p> + <p> + “What did she say?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a syllable. She simply emptied her purse.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland turned over and buried his face in his arms. He felt a movement of + irrepressible elation, and he barely stifled a cry of joy. Now, surely, + Roderick had shattered the last link in the chain that bound Mary to him, + and after this she would be free!... When he turned about again, Roderick + was still sitting there, and he had not touched the keys which lay on the + grass. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what is the matter with me,” said Roderick, “but I have an + insurmountable aversion to taking your money.” + </p> + <p> + “The matter, I suppose, is that you have a grain of wisdom left.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it ‘s not that. It ‘s a kind of brute instinct. I find it extremely + provoking!” He sat there for some time with his head in his hands and his + eyes on the ground. His lips were compressed, and he was evidently, in + fact, in a state of profound irritation. “You have succeeded in making + this thing excessively unpleasant!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” said Rowland, “but I can’t see it in any other way.” + </p> + <p> + “That I believe, and I resent the range of your vision pretending to be + the limit of my action. You can’t feel for me nor judge for me, and there + are certain things you know nothing about. I have suffered, sir!” Roderick + went on with increasing emphasis. “I have suffered damnable torments. Have + I been such a placid, contented, comfortable man this last six months, + that when I find a chance to forget my misery, I should take such pains + not to profit by it? You ask too much, for a man who himself has no + occasion to play the hero. I don’t say that invidiously; it ‘s your + disposition, and you can’t help it. But decidedly, there are certain + things you know nothing about.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland listened to this outbreak with open eyes, and Roderick, if he had + been less intent upon his own eloquence, would probably have perceived + that he turned pale. “These things—what are they?” Rowland asked. + </p> + <p> + “They are women, principally, and what relates to women. Women for you, by + what I can make out, mean nothing. You have no imagination—no + sensibility!” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s a serious charge,” said Rowland, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t make it without proof!” + </p> + <p> + “And what is your proof?” + </p> + <p> + Roderick hesitated a moment. “The way you treated Christina Light. I call + that grossly obtuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Obtuse?” Rowland repeated, frowning. + </p> + <p> + “Thick-skinned, beneath your good fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “My good fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “There it is—it ‘s all news to you! You had pleased her. I don’t say + she was dying of love for you, but she took a fancy to you.” + </p> + <p> + “We will let this pass!” said Rowland, after a silence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t insist. I have only her own word for it.” + </p> + <p> + “She told you this?” + </p> + <p> + “You noticed, at least, I suppose, that she was not afraid to speak. I + never repeated it, not because I was jealous, but because I was curious to + see how long your ignorance would last if left to itself.” + </p> + <p> + “I frankly confess it would have lasted forever. And yet I don’t consider + that my insensibility is proved.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t say that,” cried Roderick, “or I shall begin to suspect—what + I must do you the justice to say that I never have suspected—that + you are a trifle conceited. Upon my word, when I think of all this, your + protest, as you call it, against my following Christina Light seems to me + thoroughly offensive. There is something monstrous in a man’s pretending + to lay down the law to a sort of emotion with which he is quite + unacquainted—in his asking a fellow to give up a lovely woman for + conscience’ sake, when he has never had the impulse to strike a blow for + one for passion’s!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh!” cried Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “All that ‘s very easy to say,” Roderick went on; “but you must remember + that there are such things as nerves, and senses, and imagination, and a + restless demon within that may sleep sometimes for a day, or for six + months, but that sooner or later wakes up and thumps at your ribs till you + listen to him! If you can’t understand it, take it on trust, and let a + poor imaginative devil live his life as he can!” + </p> + <p> + Roderick’s words seemed at first to Rowland like something heard in a + dream; it was impossible they had been actually spoken—so supreme an + expression were they of the insolence of egotism. Reality was never so + consistent as that! But Roderick sat there balancing his beautiful head, + and the echoes of his strident accent still lingered along the + half-muffled mountain-side. Rowland suddenly felt that the cup of his + chagrin was full to overflowing, and his long-gathered bitterness surged + into the simple, wholesome passion of anger for wasted kindness. But he + spoke without violence, and Roderick was probably at first far from + measuring the force that lay beneath his words. + </p> + <p> + “You are incredibly ungrateful,” he said. “You are talking arrogant + nonsense. What do you know about my sensibilities and my imagination? How + do you know whether I have loved or suffered? If I have held my tongue and + not troubled you with my complaints, you find it the most natural thing in + the world to put an ignoble construction on my silence. I loved quite as + well as you; indeed, I think I may say rather better. I have been + constant. I have been willing to give more than I received. I have not + forsaken one mistress because I thought another more beautiful, nor given + up the other and believed all manner of evil about her because I had not + my way with her. I have been a good friend to Christina Light, and it + seems to me my friendship does her quite as much honor as your love!” + </p> + <p> + “Your love—your suffering—your silence—your friendship!” + cried Roderick. “I declare I don’t understand!” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say not. You are not used to understanding such things—you + are not used to hearing me talk of my feelings. You are altogether too + much taken up with your own. Be as much so as you please; I have always + respected your right. Only when I have kept myself in durance on purpose + to leave you an open field, don’t, by way of thanking me, come and call me + an idiot.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you claim then that you have made sacrifices?” + </p> + <p> + “Several! You have never suspected it?” + </p> + <p> + “If I had, do you suppose I would have allowed it?” cried Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “They were the sacrifices of friendship and they were easily made; only I + don’t enjoy having them thrown back in my teeth.” + </p> + <p> + This was, under the circumstances, a sufficiently generous speech; but + Roderick was not in the humor to take it generously. “Come, be more + definite,” he said. “Let me know where it is the shoe has pinched.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland frowned; if Roderick would not take generosity, he should have + full justice. “It ‘s a perpetual sacrifice,” he said, “to live with a + perfect egotist.” + </p> + <p> + “I am an egotist?” cried Roderick. + </p> + <p> + “Did it never occur to you?” + </p> + <p> + “An egotist to whom you have made perpetual sacrifices?” He repeated the + words in a singular tone; a tone that denoted neither exactly indignation + nor incredulity, but (strange as it may seem) a sudden violent curiosity + for news about himself. + </p> + <p> + “You are selfish,” said Rowland; “you think only of yourself and believe + only in yourself. You regard other people only as they play into your own + hands. You have always been very frank about it, and the thing seemed so + mixed up with the temper of your genius and the very structure of your + mind, that often one was willing to take the evil with the good and to be + thankful that, considering your great talent, you were no worse. But if + one believed in you, as I have done, one paid a tax upon it.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick leaned his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands together, and + crossed them, shadewise, over his eyes. In this attitude, for a moment, he + sat looking coldly at his friend. “So I have made you very uncomfortable?” + he went on. + </p> + <p> + “Extremely so.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been eager, grasping, obstinate, vain, ungrateful, indifferent, + cruel?” + </p> + <p> + “I have accused you, mentally, of all these things, with the exception of + vanity.” + </p> + <p> + “You have often hated me?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. I should have parted company with you before coming to that.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have wanted to part company, to bid me go my way and be hanged!” + </p> + <p> + “Repeatedly. Then I have had patience and forgiven you.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgiven me, eh? Suffering all the while?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you may call it suffering.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you never tell me all this before?” + </p> + <p> + “Because my affection was always stronger than my resentment; because I + preferred to err on the side of kindness; because I had, myself, in a + measure, launched you in the world and thrown you into temptations; and + because nothing short of your unwarrantable aggression just now could have + made me say these painful things.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick picked up a blade of long grass and began to bite it; Rowland was + puzzled by his expression and manner. They seemed strangely cynical; there + was something revolting in his deepening calmness. “I must have been + hideous,” Roderick presently resumed. + </p> + <p> + “I am not talking for your entertainment,” said Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. For my edification!” As Roderick said these words there + was not a ray of warmth in his brilliant eye. + </p> + <p> + “I have spoken for my own relief,” Rowland went on, “and so that you need + never again go so utterly astray as you have done this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “It has been a terrible mistake, then?” What his tone expressed was not + willful mockery, but a kind of persistent irresponsibility which Rowland + found equally exasperating. He answered nothing. + </p> + <p> + “And all this time,” Roderick continued, “you have been in love? Tell me + the woman.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland felt an immense desire to give him a visible, palpable pang. “Her + name is Mary Garland,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Apparently he succeeded. The surprise was great; Roderick colored as he + had never done. “Mary Garland? Heaven forgive us!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland observed the “us;” Roderick threw himself back on the turf. The + latter lay for some time staring at the sky. At last he sprang to his + feet, and Rowland rose also, rejoicing keenly, it must be confessed, in + his companion’s confusion. + </p> + <p> + “For how long has this been?” Roderick demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Since I first knew her.” + </p> + <p> + “Two years! And you have never told her?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “You have told no one?” + </p> + <p> + “You are the first person.” + </p> + <p> + “Why have you been silent?” + </p> + <p> + “Because of your engagement.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have done your best to keep that up.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s another matter!” + </p> + <p> + “It ‘s very strange!” said Roderick, presently. “It ‘s like something in a + novel.” + </p> + <p> + “We need n’t expatiate on it,” said Rowland. “All I wished to do was to + rebut your charge that I am an abnormal being.” + </p> + <p> + But still Roderick pondered. “All these months, while I was going on! I + wish you had mentioned it.” + </p> + <p> + “I acted as was necessary, and that ‘s the end of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a very high opinion of her?” + </p> + <p> + “The highest.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember now your occasionally expressing it and my being struck with + it. But I never dreamed you were in love with her. It ‘s a pity she does + n’t care for you!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland had made his point and he had no wish to prolong the conversation; + but he had a desire to hear more of this, and he remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “You hope, I suppose, that some day she may?” + </p> + <p> + “I should n’t have offered to say so; but since you ask me, I do.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe it. She idolizes me, and if she never were to see me + again she would idolize my memory.” + </p> + <p> + This might be profound insight, and it might be profound fatuity. Rowland + turned away; he could not trust himself to speak. + </p> + <p> + “My indifference, my neglect of her, must have seemed to you horrible. + Altogether, I must have appeared simply hideous.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really care,” Rowland asked, “what you appeared?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. I have been damnably stupid. Is n’t an artist supposed to be a + man of perceptions? I am hugely disgusted.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you understand now, and we can start afresh.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” said Roderick, “though you have suffered, in a degree, I don’t + believe you have suffered so much as some other men would have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely not. In such matters quantitative analysis is difficult.” + </p> + <p> + Roderick picked up his stick and stood looking at the ground. + “Nevertheless, I must have seemed hideous,” he repeated—“hideous.” + He turned away, scowling, and Rowland offered no contradiction. + </p> + <p> + They were both silent for some time, and at last Roderick gave a heavy + sigh and began to walk away. “Where are you going?” Rowland then asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don’t care! To walk; you have given me something to think of.” This + seemed a salutary impulse, and yet Rowland felt a nameless perplexity. “To + have been so stupid damns me more than anything!” Roderick went on. + “Certainly, I can shut up shop now.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland felt in no smiling humor, and yet, in spite of himself, he could + almost have smiled at the very consistency of the fellow. It was egotism + still: aesthetic disgust at the graceless contour of his conduct, but + never a hint of simple sorrow for the pain he had given. Rowland let him + go, and for some moments stood watching him. Suddenly Mallet became + conscious of a singular and most illogical impulse—a desire to stop + him, to have another word with him—not to lose sight of him. He + called him and Roderick turned. “I should like to go with you,” said + Rowland. + </p> + <p> + “I am fit only to be alone. I am damned!” + </p> + <p> + “You had better not think of it at all,” Rowland cried, “than think in + that way.” + </p> + <p> + “There is only one way. I have been hideous!” And he broke off and marched + away with his long, elastic step, swinging his stick. Rowland watched him + and at the end of a moment called to him. Roderick stopped and looked at + him in silence, and then abruptly turned, and disappeared below the crest + of a hill. + </p> + <p> + Rowland passed the remainder of the day uncomfortably. He was half + irritated, half depressed; he had an insufferable feeling of having been + placed in the wrong, in spite of his excellent cause. Roderick did not + come home to dinner; but of this, with his passion for brooding away the + hours on far-off mountain sides, he had almost made a habit. Mrs. Hudson + appeared at the noonday repast with a face which showed that Roderick’s + demand for money had unsealed the fountains of her distress. Little + Singleton consumed an enormous and well-earned dinner. Miss Garland, + Rowland observed, had not contributed her scanty assistance to her + kinsman’s pursuit of the Princess Casamassima without an effort. The + effort was visible in her pale face and her silence; she looked so ill + that when they left the table Rowland felt almost bound to remark upon it. + They had come out upon the grass in front of the inn. + </p> + <p> + “I have a headache,” she said. And then suddenly, looking about at the + menacing sky and motionless air, “It ‘s this horrible day!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland that afternoon tried to write a letter to his cousin Cecilia, but + his head and his heart were alike heavy, and he traced upon the paper but + a single line. “I believe there is such a thing as being too reasonable. + But when once the habit is formed, what is one to do?” He had occasion to + use his keys and he felt for them in his pocket; they were missing, and he + remembered that he had left them lying on the hill-top where he had had + his talk with Roderick. He went forth in search of them and found them + where he had thrown them. He flung himself down in the same place again; + he felt indisposed to walk. He was conscious that his mood had vastly + changed since the morning; his extraordinary, acute sense of his rights + had been replaced by the familiar, chronic sense of his duties. Only, his + duties now seemed impracticable; he turned over and buried his face in his + arms. He lay so a long time, thinking of many things; the sum of them all + was that Roderick had beaten him. At last he was startled by an + extraordinary sound; it took him a moment to perceive that it was a + portentous growl of thunder. He roused himself and saw that the whole face + of the sky had altered. The clouds that had hung motionless all day were + moving from their stations, and getting into position, as it were, for a + battle. The wind was rising; the sallow vapors were turning dark and + consolidating their masses. It was a striking spectacle, but Rowland + judged best to observe it briefly, as a storm was evidently imminent. He + took his way down to the inn and found Singleton still at his post, + profiting by the last of the rapidly-failing light to finish his study, + and yet at the same time taking rapid notes of the actual condition of the + clouds. + </p> + <p> + “We are going to have a most interesting storm,” the little painter + gleefully cried. “I should like awfully to do it.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland adjured him to pack up his tools and decamp, and repaired to the + house. The air by this time had become portentously dark, and the thunder + was incessant and tremendous; in the midst of it the lightning flashed and + vanished, like the treble shrilling upon the bass. The innkeeper and his + servants had crowded to the doorway, and were looking at the scene with + faces which seemed a proof that it was unprecedented. As Rowland + approached, the group divided, to let some one pass from within, and Mrs. + Hudson came forth, as white as a corpse and trembling in every limb. + </p> + <p> + “My boy, my boy, where is my boy?” she cried. “Mr. Mallet, why are you + here without him? Bring him to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Has no one seen Mr. Hudson?” Rowland asked of the others. “Has he not + returned?” + </p> + <p> + Each one shook his head and looked grave, and Rowland attempted to + reassure Mrs. Hudson by saying that of course he had taken refuge in a + chalet. + </p> + <p> + “Go and find him, go and find him!” she cried, insanely. “Don’t stand + there and talk, or I shall die!” It was now as dark as evening, and + Rowland could just distinguish the figure of Singleton scampering homeward + with his box and easel. “And where is Mary?” Mrs. Hudson went on; “what in + mercy’s name has become of her? Mr. Mallet, why did you ever bring us + here?” + </p> + <p> + There came a prodigious flash of lightning, and the limitless tumult about + them turned clearer than midsummer noonday. The brightness lasted long + enough to enable Rowland to see a woman’s figure on the top of an eminence + near the house. It was Mary Garland, questioning the lurid darkness for + Roderick. Rowland sprang out to interrupt her vigil, but in a moment he + encountered her, retreating. He seized her hand and hurried her to the + house, where, as soon as she stepped into the covered gallery, Mrs. Hudson + fell upon her with frantic lamentations. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see nothing,—nothing?” she cried. “Tell Mr. Mallet he must + go and find him, with some men, some lights, some wrappings. Go, go, go, + sir! In mercy, go!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland was extremely perturbed by the poor lady’s vociferous folly, for + he deemed her anxiety superfluous. He had offered his suggestion with + sincerity; nothing was more probable than that Roderick had found shelter + in a herdsman’s cabin. These were numerous on the neighboring mountains, + and the storm had given fair warning of its approach. Miss Garland stood + there very pale, saying nothing, but looking at him. He expected that she + would check her cousin’s importunity. “Could you find him?” she suddenly + asked. “Would it be of use?” + </p> + <p> + The question seemed to him a flash intenser than the lightning that was + raking the sky before them. It shattered his dream that he weighed in the + scale! But before he could answer, the full fury of the storm was upon + them; the rain descended in sounding torrents. Every one fell back into + the house. There had been no time to light lamps, and in the little + uncarpeted parlor, in the unnatural darkness, Rowland felt Mary’s hand + upon his arm. For a moment it had an eloquent pressure; it seemed to + retract her senseless challenge, and to say that she believed, for + Roderick, what he believed. But nevertheless, thought Rowland, the cry had + come, her heart had spoken; her first impulse had been to sacrifice him. + He had been uncertain before; here, at least, was the comfort of + certainty! + </p> + <p> + It must be confessed, however, that the certainty in question did little + to enliven the gloom of that formidable evening. There was a noisy crowd + about him in the room—noisy even with the accompaniment of the + continual thunder-peals; lodgers and servants, chattering, shuffling, and + bustling, and annoying him equally by making too light of the tempest and + by vociferating their alarm. In the disorder, it was some time before a + lamp was lighted, and the first thing he saw, as it was swung from the + ceiling, was the white face of Mrs. Hudson, who was being carried out of + the room in a swoon by two stout maid-servants, with Mary Garland forcing + a passage. He rendered what help he could, but when they had laid the poor + woman on her bed, Miss Garland motioned him away. + </p> + <p> + “I think you make her worse,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Rowland went to his own chamber. The partitions in Swiss mountain-inns are + thin, and from time to time he heard Mrs. Hudson moaning, three rooms off. + Considering its great fury, the storm took long to expend itself; it was + upwards of three hours before the thunder ceased. But even then the rain + continued to fall heavily, and the night, which had come on, was + impenetrably black. This lasted till near midnight. Rowland thought of + Mary Garland’s challenge in the porch, but he thought even more that, + although the fetid interior of a high-nestling chalet may offer a + convenient refuge from an Alpine tempest, there was no possible music in + the universe so sweet as the sound of Roderick’s voice. At midnight, + through his dripping window-pane, he saw a star, and he immediately went + downstairs and out into the gallery. The rain had ceased, the cloud-masses + were dissevered here and there, and several stars were visible. In a few + minutes he heard a step behind him, and, turning, saw Miss Garland. He + asked about Mrs. Hudson and learned that she was sleeping, exhausted by + her fruitless lamentations. Miss Garland kept scanning the darkness, but + she said nothing to cast doubt on Roderick’s having found a refuge. + Rowland noticed it. “This also have I guaranteed!” he said to himself. + There was something that Mary wished to learn, and a question presently + revealed it. + </p> + <p> + “What made him start on a long walk so suddenly?” she asked. “I saw him at + eleven o’clock, and then he meant to go to Engelberg, and sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “On his way to Interlaken?” Rowland said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, under cover of the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “We had some talk,” said Rowland, “and he seemed, for the day, to have + given up Interlaken.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you dissuade him?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly. We discussed another question, which, for the time, + superseded his plan.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Garland was silent. Then—“May I ask whether your discussion was + violent?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it was agreeable to neither of us.” + </p> + <p> + “And Roderick left you in—in irritation?” + </p> + <p> + “I offered him my company on his walk. He declined it.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Garland paced slowly to the end of the gallery and then came back. + “If he had gone to Engelberg,” she said, “he would have reached the hotel + before the storm began.” + </p> + <p> + Rowland felt a sudden explosion of ferocity. “Oh, if you like,” he cried, + “he can start for Interlaken as soon as he comes back!” + </p> + <p> + But she did not even notice his wrath. “Will he come back early?” she went + on. + </p> + <p> + “We may suppose so.” + </p> + <p> + “He will know how anxious we are, and he will start with the first light!” + </p> + <p> + Rowland was on the point of declaring that Roderick’s readiness to throw + himself into the feelings of others made this extremely probable; but he + checked himself and said, simply, “I expect him at sunrise.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Garland bent her eyes once more upon the irresponsive darkness, and + then, in silence, went into the house. Rowland, it must be averred, in + spite of his resolution not to be nervous, found no sleep that night. When + the early dawn began to tremble in the east, he came forth again into the + open air. The storm had completely purged the atmosphere, and the day gave + promise of cloudless splendor. Rowland watched the early sun-shafts slowly + reaching higher, and remembered that if Roderick did not come back to + breakfast, there were two things to be taken into account. One was the + heaviness of the soil on the mountain-sides, saturated with the rain; this + would make him walk slowly: the other was the fact that, speaking without + irony, he was not remarkable for throwing himself into the sentiments of + others. Breakfast, at the inn, was early, and by breakfast-time Roderick + had not appeared. Then Rowland admitted that he was nervous. Neither Mrs. + Hudson nor Miss Garland had left their apartment; Rowland had a mental + vision of them sitting there praying and listening; he had no desire to + see them more directly. There were a couple of men who hung about the inn + as guides for the ascent of the Titlis; Rowland sent each of them forth in + a different direction, to ask the news of Roderick at every chalet door + within a morning’s walk. Then he called Sam Singleton, whose + peregrinations had made him an excellent mountaineer, and whose zeal and + sympathy were now unbounded, and the two started together on a voyage of + research. By the time they had lost sight of the inn, Rowland was obliged + to confess that, decidedly, Roderick had had time to come back. + </p> + <p> + He wandered about for several hours, but he found only the sunny stillness + of the mountain-sides. Before long he parted company with Singleton, who, + to his suggestion that separation would multiply their resources, assented + with a silent, frightened look which reflected too vividly his own + rapidly-dawning thought. The day was magnificent; the sun was everywhere; + the storm had lashed the lower slopes into a deeper flush of autumnal + color, and the snow-peaks reared themselves against the near horizon in + glaring blocks and dazzling spires. Rowland made his way to several + chalets, but most of them were empty. He thumped at their low, foul doors + with a kind of nervous, savage anger; he challenged the stupid silence to + tell him something about his friend. Some of these places had evidently + not been open in months. The silence everywhere was horrible; it seemed to + mock at his impatience and to be a conscious symbol of calamity. In the + midst of it, at the door of one of the chalets, quite alone, sat a hideous + cretin, who grinned at Rowland over his goitre when, hardly knowing what + he did, he questioned him. The creature’s family was scattered on the + mountain-sides; he could give Rowland no help to find them. Rowland + climbed into many awkward places, and skirted, intently and peeringly, + many an ugly chasm and steep-dropping ledge. But the sun, as I have said, + was everywhere; it illumined the deep places over which, not knowing where + to turn next, he halted and lingered, and showed him nothing but the stony + Alpine void—nothing so human even as death. At noon he paused in his + quest and sat down on a stone; the conviction was pressing upon him that + the worst that was now possible was true. He suspended his search; he was + afraid to go on. He sat there for an hour, sick to the depths of his soul. + Without his knowing why, several things, chiefly trivial, that had + happened during the last two years and that he had quite forgotten, became + vividly present to his mind. He was aroused at last by the sound of a + stone dislodged near by, which rattled down the mountain. In a moment, on + a steep, rocky slope opposite to him, he beheld a figure cautiously + descending—a figure which was not Roderick. It was Singleton, who + had seen him and began to beckon to him. + </p> + <p> + “Come down—come down!” cried the painter, steadily making his own + way down. Rowland saw that as he moved, and even as he selected his + foothold and watched his steps, he was looking at something at the bottom + of the cliff. This was a great rugged wall which had fallen backward from + the perpendicular, and the descent, though difficult, was with care + sufficiently practicable. + </p> + <p> + “What do you see?” cried Rowland. + </p> + <p> + Singleton stopped, looked across at him and seemed to hesitate; then, + “Come down—come down!” he simply repeated. + </p> + <p> + Rowland’s course was also a steep descent, and he attacked it so + precipitately that he afterwards marveled he had not broken his neck. It + was a ten minutes’ headlong scramble. Half-way down he saw something that + made him dizzy; he saw what Singleton had seen. In the gorge below them a + vague white mass lay tumbled upon the stones. He let himself go, blindly, + fiercely. Singleton had reached the rocky bottom of the ravine before him, + and had bounded forward and fallen upon his knees. Rowland overtook him + and his own legs collapsed. The thing that yesterday was his friend lay + before him as the chance of the last breath had left it, and out of it + Roderick’s face stared upward, open-eyed, at the sky. + </p> + <p> + He had fallen from a great height, but he was singularly little + disfigured. The rain had spent its torrents upon him, and his clothes and + hair were as wet as if the billows of the ocean had flung him upon the + strand. An attempt to move him would show some hideous fracture, some + horrible physical dishonor; but what Rowland saw on first looking at him + was only a strangely serene expression of life. The eyes were dead, but in + a short time, when Rowland had closed them, the whole face seemed to + awake. The rain had washed away all blood; it was as if Violence, having + done her work, had stolen away in shame. Roderick’s face might have shamed + her; it looked admirably handsome. + </p> + <p> + “He was a beautiful man!” said Singleton. + </p> + <p> + They looked up through their horror at the cliff from which he had + apparently fallen, and which lifted its blank and stony face above him, + with no care now but to drink the sunshine on which his eyes were closed, + and then Rowland had an immense outbreak of pity and anguish. At last they + spoke of carrying him back to the inn. “There must be three or four men,” + Rowland said, “and they must be brought here quickly. I have not the least + idea where we are.” + </p> + <p> + “We are at about three hours’ walk from home,” said Singleton. “I will go + for help; I can find my way.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember,” said Rowland, “whom you will have to face.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember,” the excellent fellow answered. “There was nothing I could + ever do for him in life; I will do what I can now.” + </p> + <p> + He went off, and Rowland stayed there alone. He watched for seven long + hours, and his vigil was forever memorable. The most rational of men was + for an hour the most passionate. He reviled himself with transcendent + bitterness, he accused himself of cruelty and injustice, he would have + lain down there in Roderick’s place to unsay the words that had yesterday + driven him forth on his lonely ramble. Roderick had been fond of saying + that there are such things as necessary follies, and Rowland was now + proving it. At last he grew almost used to the dumb exultation of the + cliff above him. He saw that Roderick was a mass of hideous injury, and he + tried to understand what had happened. Not that it helped him; before that + confounding mortality one hypothesis after another faltered and swooned + away. Roderick’s passionate walk had carried him farther and higher than + he knew; he had outstayed, supposably, the first menace of the storm, and + perhaps even found a defiant entertainment in watching it. Perhaps he had + simply lost himself. The tempest had overtaken him, and when he tried to + return, it was too late. He had attempted to descend the cliff in the + darkness, he had made the inevitable slip, and whether he had fallen fifty + feet or three hundred little mattered. The condition of his body indicated + the shorter fall. Now that all was over, Rowland understood how + exclusively, for two years, Roderick had filled his life. His occupation + was gone. + </p> + <p> + Singleton came back with four men—one of them the landlord of the + inn. They had formed a sort of rude bier of the frame of a chaise a + porteurs, and by taking a very round-about course homeward were able to + follow a tolerably level path and carry their burden with a certain + decency. To Rowland it seemed as if the little procession would never + reach the inn; but as they drew near it he would have given his right hand + for a longer delay. The people of the inn came forward to meet them, in a + little silent, solemn convoy. In the doorway, clinging together, appeared + the two bereaved women. Mrs. Hudson tottered forward with outstretched + hands and the expression of a blind person; but before she reached her + son, Mary Garland had rushed past her, and, in the face of the staring, + pitying, awe-stricken crowd, had flung herself, with the magnificent + movement of one whose rights were supreme, and with a loud, tremendous + cry, upon the senseless vestige of her love. + </p> + <p> + That cry still lives in Rowland’s ears. It interposes, persistently, + against the reflection that when he sometimes—very rarely—sees + her, she is unreservedly kind to him; against the memory that during the + dreary journey back to America, made of course with his assistance, there + was a great frankness in her gratitude, a great gratitude in her + frankness. Miss Garland lives with Mrs. Hudson, at Northampton, where + Rowland visits his cousin Cecilia more frequently than of old. When he + calls upon Miss Garland he never sees Mrs. Hudson. Cecilia, who, having + her shrewd impression that he comes to see Miss Garland as much as to see + herself, does not feel obliged to seem unduly flattered, calls him, + whenever he reappears, the most restless of mortals. But he always says to + her in answer, “No, I assure you I am the most patient!” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Roderick Hudson, by Henry James + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RODERICK HUDSON *** + +***** This file should be named 176-h.htm or 176-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/176/ + +Produced by Judy Boss and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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