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diff --git a/18847-8.txt b/18847-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bafb8de --- /dev/null +++ b/18847-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10298 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The White Sister, by F. Marion Crawford + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The White Sister + +Author: F. Marion Crawford + +Release Date: July 16, 2006 [EBook #18847] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WHITE SISTER *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Deeptha Thattai and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +THE WHITE SISTER + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY +NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO +SAN FRANCISCO + +MACMILLAN & CO., Limited +LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA +MELBOURNE + +THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. +TORONTO + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +[Illustration: VIOLA ALLEN AS THE WHITE SISTER] + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +The White Sister +_By_ F. Marion Crawford + +Author of "The Diva's Ruby," "Saracinesca," "In the Palace of the +King," etc. + +A. L. BURT COMPANY +PUBLISHERS--NEW YORK + +Macmillan Standard Library +All Rights Reserved + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +COPYRIGHT, 1908, +BY F. MARION CRAWFORD. + +COPYRIGHT, 1909, +BY F. MARION CRAWFORD. + +COPYRIGHT, 1909, +BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. + +Set up and electrotyped. Published May, 1909. Reprinted May, June, +twice, July, August, twice, September, October, November, December, +1909; February, 1910; March, November, 1910; February, 1911; +September, 1913. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + +THE WHITE SISTER + +CHAPTER I + + +'I cannot help it,' said Filmore Durand quietly. 'I paint what I see. +If you are not pleased with the likeness, I shall be only too happy to +keep it.' + +The Marchesa protested. It was only a very small matter, she said, a +something in the eyes, or in the angle of the left eyebrow, or in the +turn of the throat; she could not tell where it was, but it gave her +niece a little air of religious ecstasy that was not natural to her. +If the master would only condescend to modify the expression the least +bit, all would be satisfactory. + +Instead of condescending, Filmore Durand smiled rather indifferently +and gave his pallet and brushes to his man, who was already waiting at +his elbow to receive them. For the famous American portrait-painter +detested all sorts of litter, such as a painting-table, brush-jars, +and the like, as much as his great predecessor Lenbach ever did, and +when he was at work his old servant brought him a brush, a tube of +colour, a knife, or a pencil, as each was needed, from a curtained +recess where everything was kept ready and in order. + +'I like it as it is,' said Giovanni Severi, resting his hands on the +hilt of his sabre, as he sat looking thoughtfully from the portrait to +the original. + +The young girl smiled, pleased by his approbation of the likeness, +which she herself thought good, though it by no means flattered. On +the contrary, it made her look older than she was, and much more sad; +for though the spring laughed in her eyes when she looked at the +officer to whom people said she was engaged, their counterparts in the +portrait were deep and grave. Certain irregularities of feature, too, +were more apparent in the painting than in nature. For instance, there +was a very marked difference between the dark eyebrows; for whereas +the right one made a perfect curve, the other turned up quite sharply +towards the forehead at the inner end, as if it did not wish to meet +its fellow; and the Marchesa del Prato was quite sure that Angela's +delicate nose had not really that aquiline and almost ascetic look +which the great master had given it. In fact, the middle-aged woman +almost wished that it had, for of all things that could happen she +would have been best pleased that her niece should turn out to have a +vocation and should disappear into some religious order as soon as +possible. This was not likely, and the Marchesa was by no means ready +to accept, as an alternative, a marriage with Giovanni Severi, whom +she had long looked upon as her own private property. + +Filmore Durand glanced from one to another of the three in quick +succession, stroked his rather bristly moustache, and lit a cigarette, +not because he wanted to smoke, but because he could not help it, +which is a very different thing. Then he looked at his picture and +forgot that he was not alone with it; and it still pleased him, after +a fashion, though he was not satisfied with what he had done. + +Great artists and great writers are rarely troubled by theories; one +of the chief characteristics of mature genius is that it springs +directly from conception to expression without much thought as to the +means; a man who has used the same tools for a dozen years is not +likely to take his chisel by the wrong end, nor to hesitate in +choosing the right one for the stroke to be made, much less to 'take a +sledge-hammer to kill a fly,' as the saying is. His unquiet mind has +discovered some new and striking relation between the true and the +beautiful; the very next step is to express that relation in clay, or +in colour, or in words. While he is doing so he rarely stops to think, +or to criticise his own half-finished work; he is too sure of himself, +just then, to pause, and, above all, he is too happy, for all the real +happiness he finds in his art is there, between the painfully +disquieting ferment of the mental chaos that went before and the more +or less acute disappointment which is sure to come when the finished +work turns out to be less than perfect, like all things human. It is +in the race from one point to the other that he rejoices in his +strength, believes in his talent, and dreams of undying glory; it is +then that he feels himself a king of men and a prophet of mankind; but +it is when he is in this stage that he is called vain, arrogant, and +self-satisfied by those who do not understand the distress that has +gone before, nor the disillusionment which will follow soon enough, +when the hand is at rest and cool judgment marks the distance between +a perfect ideal and an attainable reality. Moreover, the less the lack +of perfection seems to others, the more formidable it generally looks +to the great artist himself. + +It was often said of Durand that his portraits were prophetic; and +often again that his brushes were knives and scalpels that dissected +his sitters' characters upon the canvas like an anatomical +preparation. + +'I cannot help it,' he always said. 'I paint what I see.' + +It was not his fault if pretty Donna Angela Chiaromonte had thrown a +white veil over her dark hair, just to try the effect of it, the very +first time she had been brought to his studio, or that she had been +standing beside an early fifteenth century altar and altar-piece which +he had just bought and put up at one end of the great hall in which he +painted. He was not to blame if the veiling had fallen on each side of +her face, like a nun's head-dress, nor if her eyes had grown shadowy +at that moment by an accident of light or expression, nor yet if her +tender lips had seemed to be saddened by a passing thought. She had +not put on the veil again, and he had not meant that a suggestion of +suffering ecstatically borne should dim her glad girlhood in his +picture; but he had seen the vision once, and it had come out again +under his brush, in spite of him, as if it were the necessary truth +over which the outward expression was moulded like a lovely mask, but +which must be plain in her face to every one who had once had a +glimpse of it. + +The painter contemplated his work in silence from within an Olympian +cloud of cigarette smoke that almost hid him from the others, who now +exchanged a few words in Italian, which he only half understood. They +spoke English with him, as they would have spoken French with a +Frenchman, and probably even German with a German, for modern Roman +society has a remarkable gift of tongues and is very accomplished in +other ways. + +'What I think most wonderful,' said the Marchesa del Prato, who +detested her husband's pretty niece, 'is that he has not made a Carlo +Dolce picture of you, my dear. With your face, it would have been so +easy, you know!' + +Giovanni Severi's hands moved a little and the scabbard of his sabre +struck one of his spurs with a sharp clink; for he was naturally +impatient and impulsive, as any one could see from his face. It was +lean and boldly cut; his cheeks were dark from exposure rather than by +nature, there were reddish lights in his short brown hair, and his +small but vigorous moustache was that of a rather fair man who has +lived much in sun and wind in a hot climate. His nose was Roman and +energetic, his mouth rather straight and hard; yet few would have +thought his face remarkable but for the eyes, which betrayed his +nature at a glance; they were ardent rather than merely bold, and the +warm, reddish-brown iris was shot with little golden points that +coruscated in the rays of the sun, but emitted a fiery light of their +own when his temper was roused. If his look had been less frank and +direct, or if his other features had suggested any bad quality, his +eyes would probably have been intolerably disagreeable to meet; as it +was, they warned all comers that their possessor was one of those +uncommon and dangerous men who go to the utmost extremes when they +believe themselves in the right and are constitutionally incapable of +measuring danger or considering consequences when they are roused. +Giovanni Severi was about eight-and-twenty, and wore the handsome +uniform of an artillery officer on the Staff. He had not liked the +Marchesa's remark, and the impatient little clink of his scabbard +against his spur only preceded his answer by a second. + +'Happily for Angela,' he said, 'we are not in the studio of a +caricaturist.' + +The Marchesa, who could be near-sighted on occasion, put up her +tortoiseshell-mounted eyeglass and looked at him aggressively; but as +he returned her gaze with steadiness, she soon turned away. + +'You are extremely rude,' she said coldly. + +For she herself made clever caricatures in water-colours, and she knew +what Giovanni meant. Angela's mother had been a very devout woman and +had died young, but had incurred the hatred of the Marchesa by +marrying the very man whom the latter had picked out for herself, +namely, the elder of two brothers, and the Marchesa had reluctantly +consented to marry the other, who had a much less high-sounding title +and a far smaller fortune. She had revenged herself in various small +ways, and had often turned her brother-in-law's wife to ridicule by +representing her as an ascetic medięval saint, in contorted attitudes +of ecstasy, with sunken cheeks and eyes like saucers full of ink. Like +many other people, Giovanni had seen some of these drawings, for the +resentful Marchesa had not destroyed them when the Princess +Chiaromonte died; but no one had yet been unkind enough to tell Angela +of their existence. The girl did not like her aunt by marriage, it was +true, but with a singularly simple and happy disposition, and a total +absence of vanity, she apparently possessed her mother's almost +saintly patience, and she bore the Marchesa's treatment with a +cheerful submission which exasperated the elder woman much more than +any show of temper could have done. + +Just now, seeing that trouble of some sort was imminent, she made a +diversion by coming down from the low movable platform, on which her +chair had been placed for the sitting, and she spoke to the artist +while she studied her own portrait. Durand was a very thin man, and so +tall that Angela had to look very high to see his face as she stood +beside him. + +'I could never be as good as the picture looks,' she said in English, +with a little laugh, 'nor so dreadfully in earnest! But it is very +nice of you to think that I might!' + +'You will never be anything but good,' answered Filmore Durand, 'and +it's not necessarily dreadful to be in earnest about it.' + +'You are a moralist. I see.' observed the Marchesa, putting on a sweet +smile as she rose and came forward, followed by Giovanni. + +'I don't know,' replied the painter. 'What is a moralist?' + +'A person who is in earnest about other people's morals,' suggested +Angela gaily. + +'Really!' cried the Marchesa, with a most emphatic English +pronunciation of the word. 'One would think that you had been brought +up in a Freemasons' lodge!' + +In view of the fact that Angela's father was one of the very last +survivors of the 'intransigent' clericals, this was quite the most +cutting speech the Marchesa could think of. But Filmore Durand failed +to see the point. + +'What has Freemasonry to do with morality?' he inquired with bland +surprise. + +'Nothing at all,' answered the Marchesa smartly, 'for it is the +religion of the devil.' + +'Dear me!' The artist smiled. 'What strong prejudices you have in +Rome!' + +'Are you a Freemason?' the noble lady asked, with evident nervousness; +and she glanced from his face to Angela, and then at the door. + +'Well--no--I'm not,' the painter admitted with a slight drawl, and +evidently amused. 'But then I'm not a moralist either, though I +suppose I might be both and yet go on painting about the same.' + +'I think not,' said the Marchesa so stiffly that Giovanni almost +laughed aloud. 'We must be going,' she added, suddenly relaxing to +graciousness again. 'It has been such a privilege to see you day after +day, my dear Mr. Durand, and to watch you working in your own +surroundings. My brother-in-law will come to-morrow. I have no doubt +that he will be much pleased with the portrait.' + +Filmore Durand smiled indifferently but with politeness as he bowed +over the Marchesa's hand. He did not care a straw whether Angela's +father liked the picture or not, being in love with it himself, and +much more anxious to keep it than to be paid for it. + +'When shall I see you again?' Giovanni had asked of Angela, almost in +a whisper, while the Marchesa was speaking. + +Instead of answering she shook her head, for she could not decide at +once, but as her glance met his a delicate radiance tinged her cheeks +for a moment, as if the rosy light of a clear dawn were reflected in +her face. The young soldier's eyes flashed as he watched her; he drew +his breath audibly, and then bit his upper lip as if to check the +sound and the sensation that had caused it. Angela heard and saw, for +she understood what moved him, so far as almost childlike simplicity +can have intuition of what most touches a strong man. She was less +like the portrait now than a moment earlier; her lips, just parting in +a little half-longing, half-troubled smile, were like dark rose leaves +damp with dew, her eyelids drooped at the corners for an instant, and +the translucent little nostrils quivered at the mysterious thrill that +stirred her maiden being. + +The two young people had not known each other quite a year, for she +had never seen Severi till she had left the convent to go out into +society and to take her place at her widowed father's table as his +only child; but at their first meeting Giovanni had felt that of all +women he had known, none but she had ever called his nature to hers +with the longing cry of the natural mate. At first she was quite +unconscious of her power, and for a long time he looked in vain for +the slightest outward sign that she was moved when she saw him making +his way to her in a crowded drawing-room, or coming upon her suddenly +out of doors when she was walking in the villa with her old governess, +the excellent Madame Bernard, or riding in the Campagna with her +father. Giovanni's duties were light, and he had plenty of time to +spare, and his pertinacity in finding her would have been compromising +if he had been less ingeniously tactful. It was by no means easy to +meet her in society either, for, in spite of recent social +developments, Prince Chiaromonte still clung to the antiquated +political mythology of Blacks and Whites, and strictly avoided the +families he persisted in calling 'Liberals,' on the ground that his +father had called them so in 1870, when he was a small boy. It was not +until he had bored himself to extinction in the conscientious effort +to take the girl out, that he appealed to his sister-in-law to help +him, though he knew that neither she nor his brother was truly +clerical at heart. Even then, if it had been clear to him that +Giovanni Severi had made up his mind to marry Angela if he married at +all, the Prince would have forced himself to bear agonies of boredom +night after night, rather than entrust his daughter to the Marchesa; +but such an idea had never entered his head, and he would have scouted +the suggestion that Angela would ever dare to encourage a young man of +whom he had not formally approved; and while she was meeting Giovanni +almost daily, and dancing with him almost every evening, her father +was slowly negotiating an appropriate marriage for her with the eldest +son of certain friends who were almost as clerical and intransigent as +himself. The young man was a limp degenerate, with a pale face, a weak +mouth, and an inherited form of debility which made him fall asleep +wherever he was, if nothing especial happened to keep his eyes open; +he not only always slept from ten at night till nine the next morning +with the regularity of an idiot, but he went to sleep wherever he sat +down, in church, at dinner, and even when he was driving. Neither his +own parents nor Prince Chiaromonte looked upon this as a serious +drawback in the matter of marriage. A man who slept all day and all +night was a man out of mischief, not likely to grumble nor to make +love to his neighbour's wife; he would therefore be a model husband. +When he fell asleep in the drawing-room in summer, his consort would +sit beside him and brush away the flies; in winter she would be +careful to cover him up lest he should catch cold; at mass she could +prick him with a hat-pin to keep him awake; as for the rest, she would +bear one of the oldest names in Europe, her husband would be a +strictly religious and moral person, and she would be very rich. What +more could any woman ask? Evidently nothing, and Prince Chiaromonte +therefore continued to negotiate the marriage in the old-fashioned +manner, without the least intention of speaking about it to Angela +till everything was altogether settled between the family lawyers, and +the wedding could take place in six weeks. It was not the business of +young people to fathom the intentions of their all-wise parents, and +meanwhile Angela was free to go to parties with her aunt, and her +intended husband was at liberty to sleep as much as he liked. The +negotiations would probably occupy another two or three months, for +the family lawyers had disagreed as to the number of times that Angela +should be allowed to take the carriage out every day, and this had to +be stipulated in the marriage contract, besides the number of dishes +there were to be at luncheon and dinner and the question whether, if +Angela took coffee after her meals, it should be charged to her +husband, who took none, or against the income arising from her dowry. +The family lawyers were both very old men and understood these +difficult matters thoroughly, but neither would have felt that he was +doing his duty to his client if he had not quarrelled with the other +over each point. From week to week each reported progress to his +employer, and on the whole the two fathers felt that matters were +going on well, without any undue delay. + +But the Fates frowned grimly on the marriage and on all things +connected with it, for on the very morning during which Filmore Durand +finished Angela's portrait, and before she had left his studio in the +Palazzo Borghese, something happened which not only put a stop to the +leisurely labours of the two lawyers, but which profoundly changed +Angela's existence, and was the cause of her having a story quite +different from that of a good many young girls who are in love with +one man but are urged by their parents to marry another. The interest +of this tale, if it has any, lies in no such simple conflict of forces +as that, and it is enough to know that while her father had been busy +over her marriage, Angela Chiaromonte had fallen in love with Giovanni +Severi, and had, indeed, as much as promised to marry him; and that a +good many people, including the Marchesa del Prato, already suspected +this, though they had not communicated their suspicions to the girl's +father, partly because he was not liked, and partly because he hardly +ever showed himself in the world. The situation is thus clearly +explained, so far as it was known to the persons concerned at the +moment when the Great Unforeseen flashed from its hiding-place and +hurled itself into their midst. + +As Filmore Durand went with the Marchesa towards the entrance hall, +followed by the young people, he called his man to open the outer +door, but almost at the same moment he heard his voice at the +telephone; the servant was a Swiss who spoke German, English, and +Italian, and had followed the artist for many years. He was evidently +answering an inquiry about the Marchesa just as he heard her step. + +'The lady is here,' he said. 'She is coming to the telephone herself.' + +He looked round as the four approached, for the instrument was placed +on the right side of the large door that opened upon the landing. + +'Some one for your ladyship,' he said in English, holding out the +receiver to the Marchesa. + +She took it and put it to her ear, repeating the usual Italian +formula. + +'Ready--with whom am I speaking? Yes. I am the Marchesa del Prato, she +herself. What is it?' + +There was a pause while she listened, and then Angela saw her face +change suddenly. + +'Dead?' she shrieked into the telephone. 'Half-an-hour ago?' + +She still held the receiver to her ear, but she was stretching out her +left hand as if she needed support. Durand took her by the arm and +elbow, prepared to hold her up if she showed signs of fainting. Angela +was already on her other side. + +'Who is dead?' the girl asked quietly enough, but with evident +anxiety. + +'Your father,' answered the Marchesa, with such sudden and brutal +directness that Giovanni started forward, and Durand stared in +surprise, for he knew enough Italian to understand as much as that. + +Angela made two steps backwards, slowly and mechanically, like a blind +man who has unexpectedly run against a wall; like the blind, too, she +held out her hands before her, as if to assure herself that she was +getting out of reach of the obstacle. Her face had turned white and +her eyes were half closed. + +The Marchesa no longer seemed to be in need of support and watched +her. + +'My poor child!' she cried, in a tone of conventional sympathy. 'I +should have broken the news to you gradually----' + +'You should indeed!' answered Giovanni with stern emphasis. + +He was already leading Angela to one of the nearest of the high-backed +chairs that stood ranged against the dark-green wall of the hall. She +sat down, steadying herself by his arm. + +'Run over by a motor car almost at his own door,' said the Marchesa, +in a lower tone and in English, as she turned slightly towards Durand. +'Killed on the spot! It is too awful! My poor brother-in-law!' + +'Get some brandy and some cold water,' said the artist to his man, +watching the girl's pale face and twitching hands. + +'Yes,' said Giovanni, who was bending over her anxiously. 'Bring +something quickly! She is going to faint.' + +But Angela was not fainting, nor even half-unconscious. She had felt +as if something hard had struck her between the eyes, without quite +stunning her. She attempted to get up, but realised her weakness and +waited a moment before trying again. Then she rose to her feet with an +effort and stood straight and rigid before her aunt, her eyes quite +open now. + +'Come!' she said, almost imperiously, and in a voice unlike her own. + +In a moment they were gone, and the artist was standing before the +portrait he had finished, looking into its eyes as if it were alive. +He had been deeply shocked by what had just happened, and was +sincerely sorry for Angela, though he had not the least idea whether +she had loved her father or not, but his face was calm and thoughtful +again, now that she was gone, and expressed a quiet satisfaction which +had not been there before. For it seemed to him that the picture was a +precious reality, and that the young girl who had sat for it was only +nature's copy, and not perfect at that; and perhaps the reality would +not be taken from him, now, since Prince Chiaromonte had come to an +untimely end; and the prospect of keeping the canvas was exceedingly +pleasing to Filmore Durand. He had never painted anything that had +disappointed him less, or that he was less willing to part with, and +during the last day or two he had even thought of making a replica of +it for the Prince in order to keep the original, for no copy, though +it were made by himself most conscientiously, could ever be quite so +good. But now that the Prince was dead, it was possible that the +heirs, if there were any besides Angela, would be glad to be excused +from paying a large sum for a picture they did not want. He was sure +from the young girl's manner that she would no more care to possess a +portrait of herself than a coloured postcard of the Colosseum or a +plaster-cast of one of Canova's dancing-girls. This was not flattering +to the artist, it was true, but in the present case he would rather +keep his own painting than have it appreciated ever so highly by any +one else. + +Late in the afternoon he stopped before the closed gateway of the +Palazzo Chiaromonte and pushed the little postern that stood ajar. The +big porter was within, standing dejectedly before the door of his +lodge, and already dressed in the deep mourning which is kept in +readiness in all the great Roman houses. The painter asked in broken +Italian if the bad news was true, and the man nodded gravely, pointing +to the gates. They would not be shut unless the master were dead. +Durand asked after Donna Angela, but the porter was not communicative. +She had come in with her aunt and both were upstairs; he suspected the +painter of being a foreign newspaper correspondent and would say +nothing more. + +The American thanked him and went away; after all, he had come to make +sure that the Prince was really dead, and he was conscious that his +wish to keep the portrait was the only motive of his inquiry. + +He strolled away through the crowded streets, blowing such clouds of +cigarette smoke about him that people looked at him in surprise. It +was almost sunset, in February, and it was just before Lent. Rome is +at her gayest then, though the old Carnival is as dead and gone as Pio +Nono, Garibaldi, the French military occupation, the hatred of the +Jesuits, and all that made the revival of Italy in the nineteenth +century the most thrilling romance that ever roused Italian passion +and stirred the world's sympathy. Durand was not old enough to +remember those times, and he had never been in Rome at all till he was +nearly thirty years of age and on the first wave of his high success; +but he had read about the past, and to his unspoiled sight and vivid +imagination Rome was still romantic and the greatest city in the +world, ancient or modern; and somehow when he thought of his picture +and of Angela's face, and remembered the scene at the telephone, he +felt that he was himself just within the sphere of some mysterious and +tragic action which he could not yet understand, but which might +possibly affect his own life. + +'This is a serio-comic world,' he said to himself as he slowly made +his way down the Corso, watching the faces of the people he passed, +because he never passed a face in the street without glancing at it, +stopping now and then to look into a shop window where there was +nothing to see that he had not seen a thousand times elsewhere, +smoking cigarettes without number, thinking of Angela's portrait, and +mechanically repeating his little epigram over and over again, to a +sort of tune in his head, with variations and transpositions that +meant nothing at all. + +'This is a serio-comic world. This is a comico-serious world. This +world is a serious comico-serial. This is a worldly-serious comedy.' +And so forth, and so on; and a number of more or less good-looking +women of the serio-comic world, whose portraits he had painted, and +several more or less distinguished men who had sat to him, passed the +man of genius and greeted him as if they were rather pleased to show +that they knew him; but they would have been shocked if they could +have heard the silly words the great painter was mechanically +repeating to himself as he idled along the pavement, musing on the +picture he hoped to keep, and already regarded as his masterpiece and +chief treasure. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The excellent Madame Bernard had been Angela's governess before the +child had been sent to the convent, on the Trinitą dei Monti, and +whenever she was at home for the holidays, and also during the brief +interval between her leaving school and going into society; and after +that, during the winter which preceded Prince Chiaromonte's death, she +had accompanied the motherless girl to concerts and had walked with +her almost daily in the mornings. She was one of those thoroughly +trustworthy, sound-minded, well-educated Frenchwomen of the middle +class of whom many are to be found in the provinces, though the type +is rare in Paris; nearly fifty years of age, she had lived twenty +years in Rome, always occupying the same little apartment in a +respectable street of Trastevere, where she had a spare room which she +was glad to let to any French or English lady of small means who came +to Rome for a few months in the winter and spring. + +Angela sent her maid for Madame Bernard on the day of the catastrophe, +since her aunt neither offered to take her in at once nor seemed +inclined to suggest any arrangement for the future. The Marchesa did, +indeed, take charge of everything in the Palazzo Chiaromonte within an +hour of her brother-in-law's death; she locked the drawers of his +private desk herself, sent for the notary and had the customary seals +placed on the doors of the inner apartments 'in the name of the +heirs'; she spoke with the undertaker and made every arrangement for +the customary lying in state of the body during the following night +and day; saw to the erection of the temporary altar at which masses +for the dead would be celebrated almost without interruption from +midnight to noon by sixteen priests in succession; gave full +instructions to the effect that the men-servants should take their +turn of duty in regular watches, day and night, until the funeral; and +finally left the palace, after showing herself to be an exceedingly +practical woman. + +When she went away, she was holding her handkerchief to her eyes with +both hands and she forgot her parasol; but she remembered it as she was +just going out by the postern, her carriage being outside because the +gates were shut, and she sent her footman back for it and for the little +morocco bag in which she carried her handkerchief and card-case. It was +a small matter, but the porter, the footman, and the butler upstairs all +remembered it afterwards, and the footman himself, while coming down, +took the trouble to look into the little wallet, and saw that the +card-case was there, but nothing else; for the Marchesa sometimes +carried certain little cigarettes in it, which the man had found +particularly good. But to-day there was not even one. + +Madame Bernard arrived in tears, for she was a warm-hearted woman, and +was overcome with sympathy for the lonely girl. She found Angela +sitting by a small fire in her own little morning-room on the upper +floor. A tray with something to eat had been set beside her, she knew +not by whom, but she had not tasted anything. Her eyes were dry, but +her hands were burning and when she was conscious of feeling anything +she knew that her head ached. She had forgotten that she had sent for +the governess, and looked at her with a vaguely wondering expression +as if she took the kindly Frenchwoman in black for a new shadow in her +dream. + +But presently mechanical consciousness returned, though without much +definite sensation, and she let Madame Bernard have her way in +everything, not making the slightest resistance or offering the +smallest suggestion; she even submitted to being fed like a little +child, with small mouthfuls of things that had no taste whatever for +her. + +By and by there was a dressmaker in the room, with an assistant, and +servants brought a number of big bandboxes with lids covered with +black oilcloth; and Angela's maid was there, too, and they tried one +thing after another on her, ready-made garments for the first hours of +mourning. Then they were gone, and she was dressed in black, and the +room was filled with the unmistakable odour of black crape, which is +not like anything else in the world. + +Again time passed, and she was kneeling at a faldstool in the great +hall downstairs; but a dark screen had been placed so that she could +not be seen by any one who came in to kneel at the rail that divided +the upper part of the hall from the lower; and she saw nothing +herself--nothing but a Knight of Malta, in his black cloak with the +great white Maltese cross on his shoulder, lying asleep on his back; +and on each side of him three enormous wax torches were burning in +silver candlesticks taller than a tall man. + +Quite at the end of the hall, five paces from the Knight's motionless +head, three priests in black and silver vestments were kneeling before +a black altar, reciting the Penitential Psalms in a quiet, monotonous +voice, verse and verse, the one in the middle leading; and Angela +automatically joined the two assistants in responding, but so low that +they did not hear her. + +The Knight bore a resemblance to her father, that was all. Perhaps it +was only a waxen image she saw, or a wraith in that long dream of +hers, of which she could not quite remember the beginning. She knew +that she was nothing to the image, and that it was nothing to her. +While her lips repeated the grand dirge of the King-poet in Saint +Jerome's noble old Latin words, her thoughts followed broken threads, +each cut short by a question that lacks an answer, by the riddle man +has asked of the sky and the sea and the earth since the beginning: +What does it mean? + +What could it mean? The senseless facts were there, plain enough. +That morning she had seen her father, she had kissed his hand in the +old-fashioned way, and he had kissed her forehead, and they had +exchanged a few words, as usual. She remembered that for the thousandth +time she had wished that his voice would soften a little and that he +would put his arms round her and draw her closer to him. But he had been +just as always, for he was bound and stiffened in the unwieldy armour of +his conventional righteousness. Angela had read of the Puritans in +history, and an Englishman might smile at the thought that she could not +fancy the sternest of them as more thoroughly puritanical than her +father, who had been brought up by priests from his childhood. But such +as he was, he had been her father that morning. The motionless figure of +the Knight of Malta on the black velvet pall was not he, nor a likeness +of him, nor anything human at all. It was the outward visible presence +of death, it was a dumb thing that knew the answer to the riddle but +could not tell it; in a way, it was the riddle itself. + +While her half-stunned intelligence stumbled among chasms of thought +that have swallowed up transcendent genius, her lips unconsciously +said the Penitential Psalms after the priests at the altar. At the +convent she had been a little vain of knowing them by heart better +than the nuns themselves, for she had a good memory, and she had often +been rebuked for taking pride in her gift. It was not her fault if the +noble poetry meant nothing to her at the most solemn hour of her life, +though its deep human note had appealed profoundly to her the last +time she had repeated the words. Nothing meant anything now, in the +face of the unanswered riddle; nothing but the answer could have any +meaning. + +The great apostle of modern thought asked three questions: What can I +know? As a reasoning being what is it my duty to do in life? What may +I dare to hope hereafter? Angela had never even heard of Kant; she +only asked what it all meant; and the Knight of Malta was silent under +the steady yellow light of the six wax torches. Perhaps the white +cross on his cloak was the answer, but the emblem was too far from +words for mere humanity to understand it. She wished they would take +him away, for he was not her father, and she would be far better able +to pray alone in her own room than in the stately presence of that one +master whom all living things fear, man and bird and beast, and +whatsoever has life in the sea. + +To pray, yes; but for what? Rebellious against outward things, the +girl's prime intuition told her that her father was quite separated +from his mortal symbol now, having suddenly left that which could +change to become a part of the unknown truth, which must be +unchangeable if it is true; invisible, without form or dimension, +'being' not 'living,' 'conscious' not 'aware,' 'knowing' not 'seeing,' +'eternal' not 'immortal.' That might be the answer, but it meant too +much for a girl to grasp, and explained too little to be comforting. +The threads of thought broke short off again, and Angela's lips went +on making words, while she gazed unwinking on the Knight's +expressionless face. + +Suddenly her mind awoke again in a sort of horror of darkness, and her +lips ceased from moving for a while, for she was terrified. + +Was there anything beyond? Was it really God who had taken her father +from her in an instant, or was it a blind force that had killed him, +striking in the dark? If that was the answer, what was there left? + +The sensitive girl shivered. Perhaps no bodily danger could have sent +that chill through her. It began in her head and crept quickly to her +hands and then to her feet, for it was not a fear of death that came +upon her, nor of anything outward. To lose life was nothing, if there +was heaven beyond; pain, torture, martyrdom would be nothing if God +the good was standing on the other side. All life was but one long +opportunity for sinning, and to lose it while in grace was to be safe +for ever; so much she had been taught and until now she had believed +it. But what loss could be compared with losing God? There were +unbelievers in the world, of course, but she could not understand how +they could still live on, and laugh, and seek pleasure and feel it +keenly. What had they to fill the void of their tremendous loss? +Surely, not to believe was not to hope, to be for ever without hope +was the punishment of the damned, and to live hopeless in the world +was to suffer the pains of hell on earth. + +She felt them now. 'The pains of hell gat hold upon me,' she moaned, +heedless of the priest's recitation. Darkness rose like a flood-tide +all round her and she shut her eyes to keep it out, for her will +fought for hope, as her body would have struggled against drowning. It +was no longer a mere question that assailed her, but imminent +destruction itself. + +It passed away this first time and she grew calm again. Not to believe +was sin, and against all sin, prayer and steadfast will must be +availing. The will, she had; she could remember many prayers, too, and +say them earnestly, and was thankful for her memory which held orisons +in readiness for every circumstance of daily duty or spiritual life. +From her childhood she had found a gentle delight in the Church's +liturgies and hymns, and now, as she prayed with the forms of language +she had always loved, habit brought back belief to lighten her +darkness. She still felt the bitter cold of the outer night that was +very near her; but she kept it off now, and warmed her poor little +soul in the fervour of her praying till she felt that she was coming +again to life and hope. + +She opened her eyes at last and saw that nothing was changed. The +Knight of Malta slept on, as he was to sleep for ever; the priests +knelt motionless before the black altar; their quiet, monotonous +voices went on with the Penitential Psalms as priests had said them +for at least fifteen centuries. Angela listened till she caught the +words and then began to respond again, and once more her thoughts +followed broken threads. + +Surely, by all she had been taught, her father was in heaven already. +It was not possible that any human being should obey every written and +unwritten ordinance of his religion more strictly than he had done +ever since she could remember him. He had been severe, almost to +cruelty, but he had been quite as unyieldingly austere in dealing with +himself. He had fasted rigidly, not only when fasts were ordered, but +of his free will when others only abstained, he had never begun a day +without hearing mass nor a week without confession and communion, he +had retired into spiritual retreat in Lent, he had prayed early and +late; in his dealings with men, he had not done to others what he +would not have had them do to him, he had not said of his neighbour +what he would not have said of himself, he had wronged no man; he had +given much to charity and more to the 'imprisoned' head of the Church. +He had so lived that no confessor could justly find fault with him, +and he had never failed to pray for those in whom he discerned any +shortcoming. + +Who would condemn such a just person? Not God, surely. Therefore when +his life had ended so suddenly that morning, his soul had been taken +directly to heaven. + +Such righteousness as his had venial sins to expiate, what hope was +there left for men of ordinary earthly passions and failings? + +It was a consolation to think of that, Angela told herself, now that +the tide of darkness had ebbed back to the depth of terror whence it +had risen; and when at last the long dream slowly dissolved before +returning reality the lonely girl's eyes overflowed with natural tears +at the thought that her father's motionless lips would never move +again, even to reprove her, and that she was looking for the last time +on all that earth still held of him who had given her life. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Three days later Angela sat alone in her morning-room, reading a letter +from Giovanni Severi. All was over now--the lying in state, the funeral +at the small parish church, the interment in the cemetery of San +Lorenzo, where the late Prince had built a temporary tomb for himself +and his family, under protest, because modern municipal regulations +would not allow even such a personage as he to be buried within the +walls, in his own family vault, at Santa Maria del Popolo. But he had +been confident that even if he did not live to see the return of the +Pope's temporal power, his remains would soon be solemnly transferred to +the city, to rest with those of his fathers; and he had looked forward +to his resurrection from a sepulchre better suited to his earthly rank +and spiritual worth than a brick vault in a public cemetery, within a +hundred yards of the thrice-anathematised crematorium, and of the +unhallowed burial-ground set aside for Freemasons, anarchists, +Protestants, and Jews. But no man can be blamed fairly for wishing to +lie beside his forefathers, and if Prince Chiaromonte had failed to see +that the destiny of Italy had out-measured the worldly supremacy of the +Vatican in the modern parallelogram of forces, that had certainly been a +fault of judgment rather than of intention. He had never wavered in his +fidelity to his ideal, nor had he ever voluntarily submitted to any law +imposed by the 'usurper.' + +'That excellent Chiaromonte is so extremely clerical,' Pope Leo the +Thirteenth had once observed to his secretary with his quiet smile. + +But Angela missed her father constantly, not understanding that he had +systematically forced her to look to him as the judge and master of +her existence, and she wondered a little why she almost longed for his +grave nod, and his stern frown of disapproval, and even for the daily +and hourly reproof under which she had so often chafed. Madame Bernard +had been installed in the palace since the day of the fatal accident, +and she was kindness personified, full of consideration and +forethought; yet the girl was very lonely and miserable from morning +till night, and when she slept she dreamed of the dead Knight of +Malta's face, of the yellow light of the wax torches, and the voices +of the priests. + +On the fourth day a letter came from Giovanni, the first she had ever +received from him. She did not even know his handwriting, and she +looked at the signature before reading the note to see who had written +to her so soon. When she understood that it was he, a flood of +sunshine broke upon her gloom. The bright morning sun had indeed been +shining through the window for an hour, but she had not known it till +then. + +It was not a love-letter. He used those grammatically illogical but +superfinely courteous forms which make high Italian a mystery to +strangers who pick up a few hundred words for daily use and dream that +they understand the language. He used the first person for himself, +but spoke of her in the third singular; he began with: 'Most gentle +Donna Angela,' and he signed his full name at the end of a formal +phrase setting forth his profoundly respectful homage. She would have +been much surprised and perhaps offended if he had expressed himself +in any more familiar way. Brought up as she had been under the most +old-fashioned code in Europe when at home, and under the frigid rule +of the Ladies of the Sacred Heart when she was at school, any +familiarity of language seemed to her an outrage on good manners, and +might even be counted a sin if she condescended to it in speaking with +a man who was not yet her husband. She had been made to address her +father in the third person feminine singular ever since she had +learned to talk, precisely as Giovanni wrote to her; and if she prayed +to the Deity with the less formal second person plural, this was +doubtless because the Italian prayers had been framed in less refined +and courteous times than her own. + +In spite of his stiff grammar, however, Severi managed to write things +that brought the colour to her face and the light to her eyes. He +said, for instance, that he was coming to see her that very afternoon; +that in order not to attract attention at the gate of the palace he +would wear civilian's dress, and that he hoped she would not only +receive him, but would send Madame Bernard out of the room for a +little while, so that he might speak to her alone. + +The proposal was so delightful and yet so disturbing that Angela +thought it must be wicked and tried to examine her conscience at once; +but it shut up like an oyster taken out of the water and pretended to +be perfectly insensible, turn it and probe it how she would. + +So she gave it up; and she did so the more readily because it would be +quite impossible to see Giovanni that afternoon, enchanting as the +prospect would have been. Her aunt the Marchesa had sent word that she +was coming at four o'clock with the lawyer to explain Angela's +position to her, and it was impossible to say how long the two might +stay. Meanwhile she must send word to Giovanni not to come, for it +would not suffice that he should be refused admittance at the gate, +since he might chance to present himself just when the Marchesa drove +up, which would produce a very bad impression. Angela was ashamed to +send her maid with a note to a young officer, and she would not trust +one of the men-servants; she turned for advice to Madame Bernard, who +was her only confidante. + +'What am I to do?' she asked when she had explained everything. 'He is +generally at the War Office at this time and he may not even go home +before he comes here. I see no way but to send a note.' + +'He would certainly go home to change his clothes,' answered the +practical Frenchwoman; 'but it is not necessary for you to write. I +will telephone to the War Office, and if the Count is there I will +explain everything.' + +Angela looked at her doubtfully. + +'But then the servant who telephones will know,' she objected. + +'The servant? Why? I do not understand. I shall speak myself. No one +will be there to hear.' + +'Yourself? My father never could, and I never was shown how to do it. +Are you sure you understand the thing? It is very complicated, I +believe.' + +Madame Bernard was not surprised, for she knew the ways of the Palazzo +Chiaromonte; but she smiled and assured the young girl that a +telephone was not really such a dangerous instrument as she had been +led to believe. + +'I once tried to make a few stitches with a sewing-machine,' Angela +said, apparently in explanation. + +'A telephone is different,' Madame Bernard answered gravely. 'Shall I +ask the Count to come to-morrow at four o'clock, instead of to-day?' + +Angela hesitated, and then blushed faintly. + +'Do you think----' she began, but she stopped and hesitated. 'He would +be angry, I am sure----' She seemed to be suddenly distressed. + +'Your father?' asked the Frenchwoman, guessing what she meant. 'My +dear Princess----' + +'Oh, please don't call me that!' cried Angela. 'You never do----' + +'You see, you are a great personage now, my dear child,' Madame +Bernard answered, 'and I am no longer your governess----' + +'But you are my friend, dear, dear Madame Bernard! Indeed, I think you +are my only friend now!' + +And thereupon Angela threw her arms round the little woman's neck and +kissed her very affectionately. Madame Bernard's fresh face beamed +with pleasure. + +'Thank you, my dear,' she answered. 'And as for your father, my child, +he is without doubt in heaven; and that means that he now judges you +by your intentions and no longer by appearances only.' + +This sage little speech reassured Angela, though she soon afterwards +asked herself whether it was quite loyal to allow any one to say that +the Prince had ever judged her 'by appearances only.' But while she was +making this reflection Madame Bernard was already telephoning to +Giovanni, who was at the War Office, as Angela supposed, and he answered +with alacrity that he would come to the palace on the following +afternoon and ask to see Madame Bernard on a matter of business. It was +really her business to teach French, as all the servants knew, and if +they thought that the young officer came to ask about some lessons for +himself or a friend, so much the better. Madame Bernard was naturally +practical, and Giovanni was by nature quick-witted; so the matter was +settled in a few words, to the satisfaction of both; and when Angela was +merely told that he was coming she was much more pleased than she was +willing to show, and she said no more about her father's hypothetical +disapproval. + +That afternoon she received the Marchesa del Prato and the lawyer +downstairs in the second of the outer drawing-rooms. It was cold there, +but she had not quite dared to order a fire to be made, because the +Prince had never allowed fires except in the inner rooms, which were +still closed under the notarial seals. The place had a certain grandeur +of its own, for the massive decorations, the heavy furniture, and the +rich brocade curtains all dated from the best period of Louis the +Fourteenth's reign. On the walls there were four or five first-rate +pictures, the largest of which was a magnificent portrait of a former +Chiaromonte by Vandyke; there was a Holy Family by Guercino, another by +Bonifacio, a Magdalen with the box of ointment, by Andrea del Sarto, and +one or two smaller paintings of no inconsiderable value. + +But at that hour the light was bad, for the afternoon had turned cold +and rainy after a beautiful morning, and at four o'clock it was still +too early to have lamps. A few moments after the hour, a servant +opened the door, held the curtains aside, and announced the visitor. + +'Her Excellency, the Princess Chiaromonte!' + +Angela started slightly at the name. The last Princess Chiaromonte who +had passed through that doorway had been her mother, and in her +solitude the girl had not even been told that her uncle had already +assumed the title of the head of the house. The lacquey paid no +attention whatever to the quiet man in black who followed the +Princess, holding his hat against his chest with both hands and +advancing with a bowing motion at every step, as if he were saluting +the family chairs as he passed them. Angela vaguely remembered his +solemnly obsequious face. + +Her aunt seemed to have grown taller and larger, as she bent to +imprint a formal kiss on the girl's cheek, and then sat down in one of +the huge old easy-chairs, while the lawyer seated himself at a +respectful distance on an ottoman stool with his high hat on his +knees. Angela took her place at one end of the stiff sofa that stood +directly under the Vandyke portrait, and she waited for her aunt to +speak. + +The Princess had evidently prepared herself, for she spoke clearly and +did not pause for some time. + +'Your uncle has a slight attack of influenza,' she said; 'otherwise he +would have come with me, and I should have been more than glad if he +himself could have explained the whole situation to you instead of +leaving that painful duty to me. You are well aware, my dear Angela, +that your father always clung to the most prejudiced traditions of the +intransigent clericals, and could never be induced to conform to any +of the new regulations introduced by the Italian Government. In point +of fact, I do not think he quite realised that the old order had +passed away when he was a mere boy, and that the new was to be +permanent, if not everlasting. If he had, he would have acted very +differently, I am sure, and my present duty would have been much +easier than it is. Are you quite certain that you understand that?' + +Angela was quite certain that she did, and nodded quietly, though she +could not see how her father's political convictions could affect her +own present situation. + +'I have no doubt,' continued the Princess, 'that he brought you up to +consider yourself the heiress of all his fortune, though not of the +title, which naturally goes to the eldest male heir. Am I right?' + +'He never told me anything about my inheritance,' Angela replied. + +'So much the better. It will be easier for me to explain your rather +unusual position. In the first place, I must make it clear to you that +your father and mother declined to go before the mayor at the Capitol +when they were married, in spite of the regulations which had then +been in force a number of years. They were devout Catholics and the +blessing of the Church was enough for them. According to your father, +to go through any form of civil ceremony, before or after the wedding, +was equivalent to doubting the validity of the sacrament of marriage.' + +'Naturally,' Angela assented, as her aunt paused and looked at her. + +'Very naturally.' The Princess's eyes began to glitter oddly, and the +lawyer turned his hat uneasily on his knees. 'Very naturally, indeed! +Unfortunately for you, however, your father was not merely overlooking +a municipal regulation, as he supposed; he was deliberately bidding +defiance to the laws of Italy.' + +'What do you mean?' asked Angela rather nervously. + +'It is very painful to explain,' answered the elder woman with +gleaming eyes and a disagreeable smile. 'The simple truth is that as +your father and mother were not civilly married--civilly, you +understand--they were not legally married at all, and the law will +never admit that they were!' + +Angela's hand tightened on the arm of the old sofa. + +'Not married?' she cried. 'My father and mother not married? It is +impossible, it is monstrous----' + +'Not "legally" married, I said,' replied the Princess. 'To be legally +married, it is absolutely necessary to go before the mayor at the +Capitol and have the civil ceremony properly performed. Am I right?' +she asked, turning suddenly to the lawyer. 'It is absolutely +necessary, is it not?' + +'Absolutely, Excellency,' the legal adviser answered. 'Otherwise the +children of the marriage are not legitimate.' + +'What does that mean?' asked Angela in a frightened tone. + +'It means,' explained the Princess, 'that in the eyes of the law you +do not exist----' + +Angela tried to laugh. + +'But I do exist! Here I am, Angela Chiaromonte, to say that I am +alive!' + +'Angela, but not Chiaromonte,' corrected the Princess, hardly able to +hide her satisfaction. 'I am sorry to say that your dear father would +not even submit to the regulation which requires all parents alike to +declare the birth of children, and he paid a heavy fine for his +refusal. The consequence is that when your birth was entered at the +Municipality, you were put down as a foundling child whose parents +refused to declare themselves.' + +'A foundling! I, a foundling!' Angela half rose in amazed indignation, +but almost instantly sat down again, with an incredulous smile. +'Either you are quite mad,' she said, 'or you are trying to frighten +me for some reason I do not understand.' + +The Princess raised her sandy eyebrows and looked at the lawyer, +evidently meaning him to speak for her. + +'That is your position, Signorina,' he said calmly. 'You have, +unhappily, no legal status, no legal name, and no claim whatever on the +estate of His Excellency Prince Chiaromonte, who was not married to your +mother in the eyes of the law, and refused even to acknowledge you as +his child by registering your birth at the mayoralty. Every inquiry has +been made on your behalf, and I have here the certified copy of the +register as it stands, declaring you to be a foundling. It was still in +your father's power to make a will in your favour, Signorina, and as the +laws of entail no longer exist, His Excellency may have left you his +whole estate, real and personal, though his titles and dignities will in +any case pass to his brother. I must warn you, however, that such a will +might not prove valid in law, since His Excellency did not even legally +acknowledge you as his child. So far, no trace of a will has been found +with his late Excellency's notary, nor with his lawyer, nor deposited +with his securities at his banker's. It is barely possible that some +paper may exist in the rooms which are still closed, but I think it my +duty to tell you that I do not expect to find anything of the kind when +we break the seals to-morrow, in the presence of the heirs and +witnesses.' + +He ceased speaking and looked at the Princess as if asking whether he +should say more, for Angela had bent her head and quietly covered her +eyes with one hand, and in this attitude she sat quite motionless in +her place. The lawyer thought she was going to burst into tears, for +he did not know her. + +'That will do, Calvi,' said the Princess calmly. 'You have made it all +very clear, and you may retire for the present. The young lady is +naturally overcome by the bad news, and would rather be alone with me +for a little while, I daresay.' + +Signor Calvi rose, made a profound obeisance to the Princess, scarcely +bent his head to Angela, and retired, apparently bowing to the family +chairs as he passed each. The young girl dropped her hand and looked +after him with a sort of dull curiosity; she was the last person in +the world to take offence or to suppose that any one meant to be rude +to her, but it was impossible not to notice the lawyer's behaviour. In +his opinion she was suddenly nobody, and deserved no more notice than +a shop-girl. She understood enough of human nature to be sure that he +counted on the Princess's approval. + +The elder woman was watching her with a satisfaction she hardly tried +to conceal. Her small hands were encased in marvellously fitting black +gloves, though black gloves rarely fit so well as others, and were +crossed on her knee over the little leather bag she always carried. +She was leaning back in the great arm-chair, and the mourning she wore +made her faultless complexion look even more brilliant than it was. No +one knew how near forty the Princess might be, for she appeared in the +_Almanach de Gotha_ without a birthday, and only the date of her +marriage was given; but the year was 1884, and people said it was +impossible that she should have been less than seventeen when her +parents had brought her to Rome and had tried to marry her to the +elder of the Chiaromonte family; as twenty years had passed since they +had succeeded in capturing the second son for their daughter, it was +clear that she could not be under thirty-seven. But her complexion was +extraordinary, and though she was a tall woman she had preserved the +figure and grace of a young girl. + +Angela did not look directly at her enemy for some seconds after the +lawyer had left the room, closing the door behind him, not loudly but +quite audibly; but she was the first to speak when she was sure that +he was out of hearing. + +'You hate me,' she said at last. 'What have I done to you?' + +The Princess was not timid, nor very easily surprised, but the +question was so direct that she drew further back into her chair with +a quick movement, and her bright eye sparkled angrily as she raised +her sandy eyebrows. + +'In this world,' she said, 'the truth is always surprising and +generally unpleasant. In consideration of what I have been obliged to +tell you about yourself, I can easily excuse your foolish speech.' + +'You are very kind,' Angela answered quietly enough, but in a tone +that the Princess did not like. 'I was not asking your indulgence, but +an explanation, no matter how disagreeable the rest of the truth may +be. What have I done that you should hate me?' + +The Princess laughed contemptuously. + +'The expression is too strong,' she retorted. 'Hatred would imply an +interest in you and your possible doings, which I am far from feeling, +I assure you! Since it turns out that you are not even one of the +family----' + +She laughed again and raised her eyebrows still higher, instead of +ending the speech. + +'From what you say,' Angela answered with a good deal of dignity, 'I +can only understand that if you followed your own inclination you +would turn me out into the street.' + +'The law will do so without my intervention,' answered the elder +woman. 'If my brother-in-law had even taken the trouble to acknowledge +you as his child, without legitimising you, you would have been +entitled to a small allowance, perhaps two or three hundred francs a +month, to keep you from starving. But as he has left no legal proof +that you are his daughter, and since he was not properly married to +your mother, you can claim nothing, not even a name! You are, in fact, +a destitute foundling, as Calvi just said!' + +'It only remains for you to offer me your charity,' Angela said. + +'That was not my intention,' returned the Princess with a savage +sneer. 'I have talked it over with my husband, and we do not see why +he should be expected to support his brother's--natural child!' + +Angela rose from her seat without a word and went quietly towards the +door; but before she could reach it the Princess had followed her with +a rush and a dramatic sweep of her black cloth skirt and plentiful +crape, and had caught her by the wrist to bring her back to the middle +of the great room. + +'I shall not keep you long!' cried the angry woman. 'You ask me what +you have done that I should hate you, and I answer, nothing, since you +are nobody! But I hated your mother, because she robbed me of the man +I wanted, of the only man I ever loved--your father--and when I married +his brother I swore that she should pay me for that, and she has! If +she can see you as you are to-day, all heaven cannot dry her tears, +for all heaven itself cannot give you a name, since the one on her own +tombstone is not hers by any right. I hope she sees you! Oh, I hope it +was not for nothing that she fasted till she fainted, and prayed till +she was hoarse, and knelt in damp churches till she died of it! I hope +she has starved and whined her way to paradise and is looking down at +this very moment and can see her daughter turned out of my house, a +pauper foundling, to beg her bread! I hope you are in a state of +grace, as she is, and that the communion of saints brings you near +enough together for her to see you!' + +'You are mad,' Angela said when the Princess paused for breath. 'You +do not know what you are saying. Let go of my wrist and try to get +back to your senses!' + +Whether the Princess was really out of her mind, as seemed at least +possible, or was only in one of her frequent fits of rage, the words +had an instantaneous effect. She dropped Angela's wrist, drew herself +up, and recovered her self-control in a few seconds. But there was +still a dangerous glare in her cat-like eyes as she turned towards the +window and faced the dull yellowish light of the late afternoon. + +'You will soon find out that I have not exaggerated,' she said, dropping +from her late tone of fury to a note of icy coldness. 'The seals will be +removed to-morrow at noon, and I suppose no one can prevent you from +being present if you choose. After that you will make such arrangements +for your own future as you see fit. I should recommend you to apply to +one of the two convents on which my brother-in-law lavished nearly three +millions of francs during his life. One or the other of them will +certainly take you in without a dowry, and you will have at least a +decent roof over your head.' + +With this practical advice the Princess Chiaromonte swept from the +room and Angela was left alone to ask herself whether such a sudden +calamity as hers had ever before overtaken an innocent girl in her +Roman world. She went back very slowly to the sofa and sat down again +under the great Vandyke portrait; her eyes wandered from one object to +another, as if she wished to make an inventory of the things that had +seemed to be hers because they had been her father's, but she was far +too completely dazed by what had happened to think very connectedly. +Besides, though she did not dare let the thought give her courage, she +still had a secret conviction that it was all a mistake and that her +father must have left some document which would be found among his +papers the next day, and would clear away all this dreadful +misunderstanding. + +As for the rest of her aunt's story, no one had ever hinted at such a +thing in her hearing, but Madame Bernard would know the truth. There +was little indeed which the excellent Frenchwoman did not know about +the old Roman families, after having lived among them and taught their +children French for nearly a quarter of a century. She was very +discreet and might not wish to say much, but she certainly knew the +truth in this case. + +It was not till she was upstairs in her own room, and was trying to +repeat to her old governess just what had been said, that Angela began +to realise what it meant. Madame Bernard was by turns horrified, +righteously angry, and moved to profound pity; at first she could not +believe her ears, but when she did she invoked the divine wrath on the +inhuman monster who had the presumption to call herself a woman, a +mother, and an aunt; finally, she folded Angela in a motherly embrace +and burst into tears, promising to protect her at the risk of her own +life--a promise she would really have kept if the girl had been in +bodily danger. + +In her secret heart the little Frenchwoman was also making some +reflections on the folly and obstinacy of the late Prince, but out of +sheer kindness and tact she kept them to herself for the present. +Meanwhile she said she would go and consult one of the great legal +lights, to whose daughters she had lately given lessons and who had +always been very kind to her. It was nonsense, she said, to believe +that the Prince's brother could turn Angela out of her home without +making provision for her, such a liberal provision as would be +considered a handsome dowry--four hundred thousand francs would be the +very least. The Commendatore was a judge in the Court of Appeals and +knew everything. He would not even need to consult his books! His +brain was an encyclopędia of the law! She would go to him at once. + +But Angela shook her head as she sat looking at the small wood fire in +the old-fashioned red-brick fireplace. Now that she had told her story +she saw how very sure the Princess and the lawyer must have been to +speak as they had both spoken. + +But Madame Bernard put on her hat and went out to see the judge, who +was generally at home late in the afternoon; and Angela sat alone in +the dusk for a while, poking her little fire with a pair of very rusty +wrought-iron tongs, at least three hundred years old, which would have +delighted a collector but which were so heavy and clumsy that they +hurt her hands. + +Her aunt's piece of advice came back to her; she had better ask to be +taken in at one of the convents which her father had enriched and +where she would be received without a dowry. She knew them both, and +both were communities of cloistered nuns; the one was established in a +gloomy medięval fortress in the heart of the city, built round a +little garden that looked as unhealthy as the old Prioress's own +muddy-complexioned face and stubbly chin; the other was shut up in a +hideous modern building that had no garden at all. She felt nothing +but a repugnance that approached horror when she thought of either, +though she tried to reprove herself for it because her father had +given so much money to the sisters, and had always spoken of them to +her as 'holy women.' No doubt they were; doubtless, too, Saint Anthony +of Thebes had been a holy man, though it would have been unpleasant to +share his cell, or even his meals. Angela felt that if she was to live +on bread, water, and salad, she might as well have liberty with her +dinner of herbs. It was heartless to think of marrying, no doubt, when +her father had not yet been dead a week, but since she was forced to +take the future into consideration, she felt sure that Giovanni would +marry her without a penny, and that she should be perfectly happy with +him. She could well afford to laugh at the Princess's advice so long +as Giovanni was alive. He was coming to see her to-morrow, she would +tell him everything, and when the year of her mourning expired they +would be married. + +The question was, what she was to do in the meantime, since it was +quite clear that she must soon leave the home in which she had been +brought up. Like all people who have never been face to face with +want, or any state of life even distinctly resembling poverty, she had +a vague idea that something would be provided for her. It was not till +she tried to define what that something was to be that she felt a +little sinking at her heart; but the cheering belief soon returned, +that the whole affair was a mistake, unless it was a pure invention of +her aunt's, meant to frighten her into abandoning her rights. In a +little while Madame Bernard would come back, beaming with +satisfaction, with a message from the learned judge to say that such +injustice and robbery were not possible under modern enlightened laws; +and Angela smiled to think that she could have been so badly +frightened by a mad woman and an obsequious old lawyer. + +Decidedly, in spite of her gift for remembering prayers and litanies, +the mere thought of a cloistered life repelled her. Like most very +religiously brought up girls she had more than once fancied that she +was going to have a 'vocation' for the veil; but a sensible confessor +had put that out of her head, discerning at once in her mental state +those touches of maiden melancholy which change the look of the young +life for a day or a week, as the shadow of a passing cloud saddens a +sunlit landscape. It was characteristic of Angela that the possibility +of becoming a nun as a refuge from present and future trouble did not +present itself to her seriously, now that trouble was really imminent. +She was too buoyant by nature, her disposition was too even and +sensible, and above all, she was too courageous to think of yielding +tamely to the fate her aunt wished to impose upon her. + +It might have been expected that she should at least break down for a +little while that afternoon and have a good cry in her solitude, while +Madame Bernard was on her errand to the judge; but she did not, though +there was a moment when she felt that tears were not far off. By way +of keeping them back she went into her bedroom, lit a candle and knelt +down to recite the prayers she had selected to say daily for her +father. They were many, some of them were beautiful, and more than +half of them were centuries old. Her conviction that the very just man +was certainly in heaven already did not make it seem wholly useless to +pray for him. No one could be quite sure of what happened in paradise, +and in any case, if he was in no need of such intercession himself, +she was allowed to hope that grace might overflow and avail to help +some poor soul in purgatory, by means of the divine indulgence. + +Madame Bernard came back at last, but there was consternation in her +kindly face, for the great legal light had confirmed every word the +Princess and her lawyer had said to Angela, and had shrugged his +shoulders at the suggestion that a will might still be found. He had +told the governess plainly that a man married to a woman only by a +religious ceremony was not legally her husband, and that his children +had neither name nor rights unless he went through the legal form of +recognising them before the proper authorities. If the parents died +without making a will, the children had no claim whatever on the +estate unless they had been properly recognised. If there was a will, +however, they might inherit, even if they had not been legitimised, +provided that no lawful heirs of the testators were living, ascendants +or descendants. The Commendatore had expressed great surprise that the +late Prince should not have been warned of his daughter's irregular +position by his legal advisers. It only showed, he said, how necessary +the law was, since people who disregarded it got into such terrible +trouble. + +The French teacher instinctively felt that there was something wrong +with the final syllogism, but it was only too clear that the +Commendatore knew his business, and that unless a legally executed +will were found on the morrow Angela had not the smallest chance of +getting a penny from the great estate her father had left. + +'If they are so inhuman as to turn you out of your home without +providing for you,' Madame Bernard said, with tears in her eyes, 'I do +not see what you are to do, my dear child. I am ashamed to offer you +the little spare room I sometimes let to single foreign ladies--and +yet--if you would take it--ah, you would be so welcome! It is not a bad +exposure--it has the sun on it all day, though there is only one +window. The carpet is getting a little threadbare, but the curtains +are new and match the furniture--a pretty flowered chintz, you know. +And I will make little dishes for you, since you have no appetite! A +"navarin," my dear, I make it well, and a real "fricassée"! We +Frenchwomen can all cook! The "navarin" was my poor husband's +predilection--when he had eaten one made by me, he used to say that the +fleshpots of Egypt were certainly the "navarin" and nothing else. But +when I am alone it is not worth while to take so much trouble. An egg, +five sous' worth of ham and brawn, and a roll--that suffices me when I +am alone! But if you will accept the little room--ah, then I will put +on an apron and go into the kitchen, and you shall taste the French +cookery of a Frenchwoman!' + +Angela was not listening to all this, for she was too much touched by +the generous intention to hear half of what Madame Bernard said, and +she could only press the little governess's hand again while she tried +to edge in a word of thanks between the quick sentences. + +'And as for the rest,' Madame Bernard ran on, 'I have chaperoned half +the young girls in Roman society to concerts and to the dentist's, and +I have a nice little sitting-room, and there is no reason in the world +why Count Severi should not come to see us, until you can be married!' + +This, at least, did not escape Angela, who squeezed the small plump +hand very hard, and at last succeeded in speaking herself. + +'You are too good!' she cried. 'Too kind! If it turns out to be true, +if I am really to be a beggar, I would rather beg of you than of +distant cousins and people I know! Besides, they are all so afraid of +my aunt's tongue that not one of them would dare to take me in, even +for a week! But I will not come unless you will let me work to help +you, in some way--I do not know how--is there nothing I know well enough +to teach?' + +'Oh, la, la!' cried Madame Bernard. 'Will you please not say such +things, my dear! As if it were not the greatest happiness in the world +you will be giving me, a lonely old woman, to come and live with me, +and help me take care of the parrot and water the flowers in the +window every evening at sunset, and learn how to make a "navarin!" +Work? Oh yes! You shall work, my dear child! If you think it is easy +to please a parrot, try it! I only say that!' + +'I will do my best,' Angela said, smiling. 'To-morrow, at this hour, +we shall know what is to happen.' + +'What has happened, has happened,' said Madame Bernard, as calmly as +any Hindu, though she was not a fatalist. 'Even if there is a paper +somewhere, do you think the Marchesa will not be the first to find it +and tear it to a thousand bits? No, I will not call her "Princess +Chiaromonte"! I, who knew your mother, my dear! Trust me, if there is +a will in the sealed rooms, the Marchesa will discover it before any +one!' + +Angela thought that this might be true, for she had a most vivid +recollection of her aunt's look and voice during the late interview. +The more she thought of the immediate future, the clearer it became to +her that she must accept her old governess's offer of shelter for the +present. She could not bring herself to beg a lodging and the bare +necessaries of life from any of those people whom she had called her +friends. There were at least half-a-dozen girls with whom she had been +intimate at the Sacred Heart, and during the past winter, and some of +them were connections of her father's and would be profoundly shocked +to learn what her position now was. No doubt their parents would take +her in for a few days, and would very possibly do more than that, and +formally protest to her aunt and uncle against the treatment she had +received. But could she stay with any of them longer than a week on +such a footing? Would she be anything better than a waif, not knowing +where she should sleep or get a meal a few days hence? No; her only +choice lay between accepting Madame Bernard's offer, and presenting +herself as a candidate for charity at one of the two convents her +father had protected. Afterwards, a year hence or more, when she +should be married to Giovanni Severi, she would find some means of +amply repaying the generous woman, without hurting her feelings. Until +then, she must accept the kindness and be thankful that it came from +such a true friend. + +She had no intention of showing herself downstairs the next day, when +the seals were to be removed and the papers examined. If she had +cherished any illusion as to the existence of a document in her +favour, Madame Bernard's last speech had effectually destroyed it, +which was the best thing that could have happened. At least, she was +sure of Giovanni, and a year must pass in a year's time! That was +axiomatic, and when the twelve months were over she would be married +quietly. She would not bring him a handsome dowry as she had fully +expected to do, and though his father was well-off, there were other +children, so that she could not expect to be rich; but what difference +could that make to two young people who loved each other? Evidently, +none at all. + +It rained all the morning and Angela spent most of the time in a sort +of apathy, so far as her companion could see, sitting still for an +hour with a book she did not read, then moving about to rooms in an +objectless way only to go back to her chair in a few minutes and to +sit motionless again before the smouldering wood fire. + +Madame Bernard, on the contrary, was very busy in making preparations +to take her away if a sudden move should be necessary. Though the +servants were evidently informed of what was taking place, she +succeeded in getting a couple of trunks and a valise brought up, and +she began to pack them with clothing from Angela's wardrobe, taking +only such things as would be useful in the quiet life of mourning the +girl was to lead for a year. The maid had disappeared, presumably to +look for a place, and when it was time for luncheon it was not without +difficulty that Madame Bernard got a footman to bring something cold +on a tray. It was quite clear by this time that the whole household +knew the truth and expected Angela to leave the palace that day, and +the little woman paused more than once in her packing to shake her +fist at the slim visions of the Princess Chiaromonte that crossed the +field of her imagination. + +Downstairs matters proceeded as she had foreseen. The Princess, two +lawyers, a notary, and several clerks had removed the seals and locked +themselves in the inner apartment to examine the papers and such +valuables as were there; but it is needless to say that they found +nothing in the nature of a will, nor any document even expressing a +wish on the part of the deceased. The notary observed that it was very +strange, but one of the lawyers shrugged his shoulders and smiled, +while the other asked why, in the nature of things, a man so young and +healthy as the late Prince should have been expected to make careful +preparations against his sudden demise when he might well expect to +live thirty years longer. The Princess said nothing, and her husband +did not appear; indeed, he never did, and on all occasions of +importance, like the present, the Princess was provided with a power +of attorney to represent him, speak for him, decide for him, and sign +documents for him. There were many stories about him in society, none +of which contained more than the merest particle of truth. Some people +said he was mad, others maintained that he was paralysed; there were +those who confidently asserted that his face was disfigured by an +unsightly claret mark, and it was even suggested that he was a leper. +When any of these tales were repeated to his wife by dear friends, she +answered that he was very well and had just gone to the Abruzzi to +look after one of the large holdings of the estate, or that he was in +Hungary, shooting with distant cousins who had lands there, or that, +if the truth must be known, he had a touch of the influenza and would +probably run down to Sicily for a change, as soon as he was able to +travel. Angela herself had not seen him since she had been a mere +child. She remembered that once, when she was at her aunt's, a tall, +pale man with a thoughtful face had passed through the room quickly +without paying the least attention to any one; she had asked her small +cousins who he was, and had been told in an awe-struck whisper that it +was their father. That was probably the only time she had ever laid +eyes on him; and somehow she did not connect him with what was +happening to her now. It was all her aunt's doing; the thin and +thoughtful man had not looked as if he were heartless, he would not +have allowed his brother's child to be turned out a beggar, under the +letter of the law. + +Yet the Princess's most ultimate and affectionate enemies had not +succeeded in fathoming the mystery. Two of them, who were connections +of her husband's, had once had a theory that she had locked him up and +kept him a prisoner for her own ends; a similar case had then recently +occurred in Palermo, where a widowed lady and her daughter had been +kept in confinement during several years, and almost starved to death, +by the wicked steward of their estates. Accordingly, the aforesaid +connections had appealed to the chief of secret police for information +about their relative; but in a few days he had been able to tell them +confidently that the Marchese del Prato was in good health and quite +free, that he was an enthusiastic scholar, and was writing an +exhaustive work on the mythology of Pindar's _Odes_, and that there +was no cause for any anxiety about him. So that matter was settled for +ever. + +At half-past three o'clock the Princess went away, leaving the lawyers +and clerks to finish their work, for she was more than satisfied that +no will nor any similar document would be found amongst the late +Prince's papers, and everything else was mere formality; the regular +inventories would be made later when the succession duties had to be +paid, but meanwhile there was nothing to hinder her from taking +possession in her husband's name. Before leaving the palace she sent +for the butler, and told him that 'Signorina Angela' was to be +requested to 'remove her effects' the next day. She further +condescended to inform him that the 'Signorina' had been ascertained +to be a nameless foundling who had no share in the inheritance and +must shift for herself, as it was not the intention of the Prince to +support such a person. The butler had learned something of the great +Roman families during a brilliant career in the servants' hall, and he +could have told some singularly romantic tales, but he had never had +experience of anything like this. He tried to look at the Princess for +a moment before he answered her, but he could not face her glittering +eyes. + +'Very well, Excellency,' he said, bowing. 'Is the young lady to have +her meals here till she leaves? The French governess is also staying +in the house.' + +'Send them up something from the servants' dinner,' the Princess +answered. + +'Very well, Excellency.' + +But the butler looked after her with considerable curiosity, watching +her graceful figure as she went down the grand staircase and holding +the swinging door open on the landing till she was out of sight. Then +he went in again, looked round the empty hall, and spoke aloud, asking +a question that has never had any answer. + +'Women, women--who can understand you?' + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Half-an-hour later Giovanni Severi entered the gate below in +civilian's dress and asked if he could see Madame Bernard, the French +teacher, who had let him know that she was stopping in the palace. The +porter told him to ring at the right-hand door on the second landing, +but added that it was doubtful whether any one would let him in, as +there was 'confusion in the house.' + +Madame Bernard was waiting for him, however; he had arrived punctually +and she let him in herself. + +'Have you heard, Monsieur?' she asked, before he could speak. 'Do you +know what is happening?' + +'Yes,' he answered. 'All Rome knows it by this time, for the story was +in the morning papers. May I see Donna Angela?' + +'Come, Monsieur.' + +She had fastened the outer door while he was speaking, and she now led +the way without any more words. + +Angela knew Giovanni's step at a distance, and when he entered she was +standing in the middle of the room. He had never before seen her in +black, and she was paler than usual; he looked anxiously into her face +as he took her hand, and she, meeting his eyes expectantly, saw a +change in them. Neither Angela nor Severi spoke at first, and in the +silence Madame Bernard passed them and went into the next room, +shutting the door after her. + +'Have you heard?' Angela asked, still standing and still holding +Giovanni's hand. + +'Yes. It is in all the papers to-day. There is an outcry. If your aunt +shows herself in the streets she will be hissed. But she has the law +on her side. I have been to two lawyers to inquire.' + +He spoke in short sentences, nervously, and when he stopped he bit his +moustache. + +'There is something else,' Angela answered. 'I see it in your eyes. +There is something I do not know, some still worse news. Sit down +there by the fire opposite me and tell me everything, for I am not +afraid. Nothing can frighten me now.' + +She seated herself where she had sat more than half the day, and he +took the chair to which she had pointed. She poked the small green +logs with the antiquated tongs and watched the sparks that flew +upwards with every touch while she waited for him to speak. But he +looked at her in silence, forgetting everything for a while except +that he was really alone with her, almost for the first time in his +life. He changed his position and bent forward with his elbows on his +knees and his hands together, so that he was nearer to her. Without +turning her face from the fire she saw him in a side-glance, but made +no answering motion. + +'Tell me what it is,' she said softly. 'Only one thing could hurt me +now.' + +'It is hard to tell,' he answered in rather a dull voice. + +She misunderstood, and turned to him slowly with wondering and +frightened eyes. Her hand weakened, without quite losing its hold, and +the ends of the clumsy tongs clattered on the brick hearth. The doubt +that had sprung upon her like a living thing as soon as she saw him, +began to dig its claws into her heart. + +'If it is so hard to tell,' she said, 'it must be that one thing.' She +turned resolutely to the fire again. 'If it is to be good-bye, please +go away quietly and leave me alone.' + +The words were not all spoken before he had caught her arm, so +suddenly that the old tongs fell on the bricks with a clang. Like him, +she had been leaning forward in her low chair, and as he drew her to +him she involuntarily slipped from her seat and found herself kneeling +on one knee beside him. She gave a little cry, more of surprise than +of displeasure or timidity, but he did not heed her. It was the first +time they had ever been left alone together, and while he still held +her with his right hand his left stole round her neck, to bring her +face nearer. + +But she resisted him almost fiercely; she set both her hands against +his chest and pushed herself from him with all her might, and the red +blush rose even to her forehead at the thought of the kiss she almost +saw on his lips, a kiss that hers had never felt. He meant nothing +against her will, and when he felt that she was matching her girl's +strength against his, as if she feared him, his arms relaxed and he +let her go. She sprang to her feet like a young animal released, and +leaned against the mantelpiece breathing hard, and fixing her burning +eyes on the old engraving of Saint Ursula, asleep in a queer four-post +bedstead with her crown at her feet, that hung over the fireplace. But +instead of rising to stand beside her, Giovanni leaned back in his +chair, his hands crossed over one knee; and instead of looking up to +her face, he gazed steadily down at the hem of her long black skirt, +where it lay motionless across the wolf's skin that served for a +hearth-rug. + +'What is it?' she asked, after a long pause, and rather unsteadily. + +He understood that she was going back to the question she had asked +him at first, but still he did not answer. She kept her eyes steadily +on Saint Ursula while she spoke again. + +'If it is not good-bye, what is it that is so hard to say?' + +'I have had a long talk with my father.' + +Angela moved a little and looked down at his bent head, for he spoke +in an almost despairing tone. She thought she understood him at last. + +'He will not hear of our marriage, now that I am a beggar,' she said, +prompting him. + +But Giovanni raised his face at once, and rather proudly. + +'You are unjust to him,' he said. 'He is not changed. It is a very +different matter. He has had a great misfortune, and has lost almost +all he had, without much hope of recovering anything. We were very +well off, and I should have had a right to marry you, though you had +not a penny, if this had not happened. As it is, my father is left +with nothing but his General's pension to support my mother. My +brothers will both need help for years to come, for they are much +younger than I am, and I must live on my pay if I mean to stay in the +service.' + +'Is that all?' Angela's voice trembled a little. + +'Yes, my pay, and nothing more----' + +'I did not mean that,' she hastened to say, interrupting him, and +there was a note of returning gladness in her voice. 'I meant to ask +if that was all the bad news.' + +'It is enough, surely, since it half ruins our lives! What right have +I to ask you to keep your promise and marry me, since I have not +enough for us to live on?' + +Angela turned quite towards him now and repeated his own words. + +'And what right have I to ask you to keep your promise and marry me? +When you gave your word, you thought I had a great name and was heir +to a splendid fortune. You were deceived. I am a "destitute +foundling"--the lawyers have proved it, and the proof of their proofs +is that I am obliged to accept the charity of my old governess, God +bless her! If ever a man had a right to take back his word, you have. +Take it, if you will. You are free!' + +Giovanni stood up beside her, almost angry. + +'Do you think I wanted your fortune?' he asked, a little pale under +his tan. + +'Do you think I am afraid of poverty?' + +Her lips were still parted in a smile after she had asked the +question, and with the gesture of an older woman she tapped his arm +half reproachfully. The colour came back to his brown face. + +'I fear poverty for you,' he answered, 'and I am going to fight it for +your sake if you have the courage to wait for me. Have you?' + +'I will wait for ever,' she said simply as she laid her hand in his. + +'Then I shall leave the army at once,' he replied. 'So far, I have +made what is called a good career, but promotion is slow and the pay +is wretched until a man is very high up. An artillery officer is an +engineer, you know, and a military engineer can always find well-paid +work, especially if he is an electrician, as I am. In two years I +promise you that we shall be able to marry and be at least +comfortable, and there is no reason why I should not make a fortune +quite equal to what my father has lost.' + +He spoke with the perfect confidence of a gifted and sanguine man, +sure of his own powers, and his words pleased her. Perhaps what had +attracted her most in him from the beginning had been his enthusiasm +and healthy faith in the world, which had contrasted brilliantly with +her father's pessimism and bigoted political necrolatry, if I may coin +a word from the Greek to express an old-fashioned Roman's blind +worship of the dead past. + +Angela was pleased, as any woman would have been, but she protested +against what she knew to be a sacrifice. + +'No,' she said decidedly, 'you must not give up the army and your +career for the sake of making money, even for me. Do no officers marry +on their pay? I am sure that many do, and manage very well indeed. You +told me not long ago that you were expecting promotion from day to +day; and in any case I could not marry you within a year, at the +least.' + +'If I do not begin working at once, that will be just a year lost,' +objected Giovanni. + +'A year! Will that make much difference?' + +'Why not ten, then? As if a year would not be a century long, while I +am waiting for you--as if it were not already half a lifetime since +last month, when we told each other the truth! Wait? Yes, if I must; +for ever, as you said awhile ago, if there is no other way. But if it +can be helped, then not an hour, not a minute! Why should we let +happiness pass us by and not take it when we may and can? There is not +enough in the world, as it is; and you cannot even pretend that you +are generous if you do not take your share, since what fate means for +you is useless for any one else! No, dear, no! We will take the fruit +there is on the tree, and leave none to rot on the branch after we are +gone. Promise to marry me a year from to-day, and leave the rest to +me--will you?' + +'Yes--but promise me one thing, too. Do not resign to-morrow, nor next +week, as I know you mean to do. Take a month to think it over, and to +look about you. You are so impulsive--well, so generous--that you are +capable of sending in your resignation to-morrow.' + +'It is already written,' Giovanni answered. 'I was going to send it in +to-night.' + +'I knew it! But you must not. Please, please, take a little time--it +will be so much wiser. I will wait for you for ever, or I will promise +to marry you a year from to-day, even if we have to live on bread and +water. Indeed I will! But, at least, be a little cautious! It will be +far better to marry on your pay--and you will surely get your captaincy +in a few months--than to be stranded without even that, in case you do +not find the work you hope for. Don't you see? I am sure it is good +advice.' + +Giovanni knew that it was, if caution were ever worth practising +in human affairs; but that has often been doubted by brave and +light-hearted men. Giovanni yielded a little reluctantly. If she had +asked him to make it two months instead of one, he would have refused, +for it seemed to him intolerable to lose a moment between decision and +action, and his thoughts doubled their stride with every step, in a +geometrical progression; a moment hence, a minute would be an hour, an +hour a month, a month a lifetime. Men have won battles in that temper; +but it has sometimes cost them their life. + +'I know you are sensible,' Giovanni said, taking Angela's hand between +his, 'but it is to please you that I agree to wait a month. It is not +because it looks wise, as it does. For one man who succeeds by wisdom, +ten win by daring. Who knows what may chance in a month, or what may +happen to put out of reach what I could do to-day?' + +'Nothing!' + +Angela gave her answer with the delicious little smile of superiority +which the youngest woman and even the merest girl can wear, when she +is sure that she is right and that the man she loves is wrong. It may +be only about sewing on a button, or about the weather, or it may +concern great issues; but it is always the same when it comes: it +exasperates weak men, and the stronger sort like it, as they more +especially delight in all that is womanly in woman, from heroic virtue +to pathetic weakness. + +'Nothing can happen in a month to prevent you from resigning then, as +you could to-day,' Angela said confidently. + +The faint smile disappeared, and she grew thoughtful, not for herself, +but for him, and looked at Saint Ursula again. Her hand still lay in +his, on the edge of the mantelpiece, and while she gazed at the +engraving she knew that he was looking at her and was moving nearer; +she felt that he was going to kiss her, but she did not resist this +time though the colour was rising in her throat, and just under the +exquisitely shaped petal of peach-blossom on which his eyes were +fixed, and which was really only the tip of her ear, though it was so +like the leaf of a flower that the scent of the bloom came to his +memory when his lips touched the spot at last. + +His hand shut closer over hers at the same moment, and hers fluttered +under his fingers like a small soft bird; but there was no resistance. +He kissed the tip of her ear, and she turned towards him a little; his +kiss pressed her cool cheek, and she moved again; their eyes met, very +near, and dark, and full of light, and then his lips touched hers at +last. + +Destiny has many disguises and many moods. Sometimes, as on that day +at the telephone, the unexpected leaps up from its hiding-place and +strikes stunning blows, right and left, like Orestes among the steers +in Tauris, or a maniac let loose among sane men; but sometimes Fate +lurks in her lair, silently poring over the tablets of the future, and +she notes all we say, scrawling 'Folly' against our wisest speeches, +and stamping 'So be it' under the carelessly spoken jest. + +She was busy while the young lovers kissed for the first time, by the +mantelpiece; but no inward warning voice had told Angela that she +herself was sealing the order of her life irrevocably when she gave +Giovanni the best advice she could, and he accepted it to please her, +making his instinct obey his judgment for her sake. A man is foolish +who takes an important step without consulting the woman who loves him +most dearly, be she mother, sister, wife, or sweetheart; but he is +rarely wise if he follows her advice, like a rule, to the letter, for +no woman goes from thought to accomplishment by the same road as a +man. You cannot make a pointer of a setter, nor teach a bulldog to +retrieve. + +If Giovanni had sent in his resignation that evening, or even during +the next day, as he was ready to do, it would have been accepted in +the ordinary course of things; he would then, without doubt, have +found employment for his talents and energy, either at home or abroad. +He would in all probability have succeeded in life, because he +possessed the elements of success; he would have married Angela in due +time, and the two would probably have lived happily for many years, +because they were suited to each other in all ways and were possessed +of excellent constitutions. If all this had happened, their story +would have little interest except for themselves, or as an example to +young couples; and it is a deplorable fact that there is hardly +anything so dull and tiresome in the world as a good example. The +hoardings along life's dusty roads are plentifully plastered with good +examples, in every stage of preservation, from those just fresh from +the moral bill-poster's roll, redolent of paste, to the good old ones +that are peeling off in tatters, as if in sheer despair because nobody +has ever stopped to look at them. May the gods of literature keep all +good story-tellers from concocting advertisements of the patent +virtues! + +The most important and decisive moment in Angela's life, from its +beginning to its end, had passed so quietly that she never suspected +its presence, and almost the very next instant brought her the first +kiss of the only man she had ever loved, or was to love thereafter. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Madame Bernard had not overstated the advantages of the lodging she +occasionally let to foreign ladies who travelled alone and practised +economy, and Angela refused to occupy it till she had satisfied +herself that her old governess's own room was just as large and just +as sunny and just as comfortable. + +In the first place, it was much bigger than she had expected, and when +she had spread out all her possessions and put away her clothes, and +had arranged her pretty toilet set and the few books that were quite +her own, she found that she was not at all cramped for space. The +ceiling was not very high, it was true, and there was only one window, +but it was a very wide one, and outside it there was a broad iron +shelf securely fixed, on which four good-sized flower-pots were set +out in the sunshine. It was true that there were no flowers yet, but +the two plants of carnations were full of buds and had been very +carefully tended, a tiny rose-bush promised to bear three or four +blossoms before long, and the pot of basil was beginning to send up +curly green shoots. Opposite the window, and beyond the quiet street, +there was a walled garden, in which there were some orange and +mandarin trees. + +Between the two bedrooms there was the sitting-room, which was a +little smaller than either, but quite big enough for two women. +Indeed, Madame Bernard ate her meals there all winter, because the +little dining-room at the back of the house was not so cheerful and +was much colder. An enlarged coloured photograph of the long-deceased +Captain Bernard, in the uniform worn by the French artillery at the +time of the Franco-Prussian War, hung on one of the walls, over an +upright piano; it had a black frame, and was decorated with a wreath +of everlasting daisies tied with a black bow. Underneath the portrait +a tiny holy-water basin of old Tyrolese pewter was fastened to the +wall. This Madame Bernard filled every year at Easter, when the parish +priest came to bless the rooms, and every year she renewed the wreath +on the anniversary of her husband's death; for she was a faithful soul +and practised such little rites with a sort of cheerful satisfaction +that was not exactly devout, but certainly had a religious source. +Captain Bernard had been a dashing fellow and there was no knowing +what his soul might not need in the place his widow vaguely described +as 'beyond' when she spoke of his presumable state, though in the case +of Angela's father, for instance, it was always 'heaven' or +'paradise.' Apparently Madame Bernard had the impression that her +husband's immortal part was undergoing some very necessary cure before +partaking of unmixed bliss. + +'Military men have so many temptations, my dear,' she said to Angela, +thinking more of the deceased Captain than of being tactful,--'I mean,' +she said, correcting herself, 'in France.' + +Angela was not afraid of temptation for Giovanni; rightly or wrongly, +she trusted that her love would be his shield against the wicked world +and her name his prayer in need, and she smiled at Madame Bernard's +speech. The big old parrot on his perch cocked his head. + +'Especially the cavalry and artillery,' the good lady went on to +explain. + +'Ą drrroite--conversion!' roared the parrot in a terrific voice of +command. + +Angela jumped in her chair, for it was the first time she had heard +the creature speak in that tone; but Madame Bernard laughed, as if it +pleased her. + +'It is absolutely my poor husband's tone,' she said calmly. 'Coco,' +she said, turning to the bellicose bird, 'the Prussians are there!' + +'Feu!' yelled the parrot suddenly, dancing with rage on his bar. 'Feu! +'cré nom d'un nom d'un p'tit bon Dieu!' + +'Every intonation!' laughed the little Frenchwoman gaily. 'You +understand why I love my Coco!' + +But Angela thought there was something grimly horrible in the coming +back of the dead soldier's voice from battles fought long ago. + +Giovanni came to see her two days after she had moved, but this time +Madame Bernard did not leave them together very long. She had a lively +sense of her responsibility, now that the young girl was altogether in +her charge, and she felt that the proprieties must be strictly +observed. It must never be thought that Giovanni was free to see +Angela alone whenever he pleased, merely because her people had turned +her out. + +He looked distressed, and the young girl at once suspected some new +trouble; and she was not mistaken, for her advice had begun to bear +fruit already, and the inevitable was closing in upon them both. + +He told the story in a few words. It had been decided in the War +Office for some time that a small exploring and surveying expedition +should be sent up the country from the Italian colony at Massowah with +the idea of planning some permanent means of inland communication with +the British possessions. Giovanni's father had seen a chance for him +to distinguish himself and to obtain more rapid promotion, and by +using all the considerable influence he possessed in high quarters he +had got him appointed to be the engineering officer of the party. The +young man had already been two years in Africa, before being appointed +to the Staff, and had done exceptionally good service, which was an +excellent reason for using him again; and chance further favoured the +plan, because the officer who had first been selected for the place, +and who was an older man, was much needed in the War Office, to his +own exceeding disgust. The expedition might be attended with +considerable danger and would certainly be full of adventure, for +there had recently been trouble with the tribes in that very region; +but to send a strong force was out of the question, for political +reasons, though the work to be done was so urgently necessary that it +could not be put off much longer. + +Old General Severi sincerely hoped Angela might yet marry his son, and +was convinced that the best thing possible would be to secure for the +latter the first opportunity for quick promotion, instead of allowing +him to leave the army in order to find more lucrative employment. The +expedition would be gone five or six months, perhaps, and there were +many reasons why it would be better to keep the young people apart for +a time. Any one would understand that, he was sure. While Angela was +living obscurely with a former governess, a brilliant young officer of +some distinction, like Giovanni, could not see her regularly without +seriously compromising her. It was the way of the world and could not +be helped, yet if Giovanni stayed in Rome it would be too much to +expect that he should stay away from the little apartment in +Trastevere. So the matter was settled, and when he came to see Angela +that afternoon he had just had an interview with his chief, who had +informed him of his appointment, and at the same time of his promotion +to be captain. The expedition was to leave Italy in a few days, and he +would have barely time to provide himself with what was strictly +necessary for the climate. He explained all this to Angela and Madame +Bernard. + +'If you had only let me resign the other day,' he said ruefully, when +he had finished his account, 'nobody could have found fault then! But +now, I must face the laugh of every man I know!' + +Angela looked up quickly, in evident surprise. + +'Why?' she asked. 'I see nothing to laugh at in such an expedition.' + +'I am not going to accept the appointment,' Giovanni answered with +decision. 'I asked for twenty-four hours to consider it, though the +General seemed very much surprised.' + +'But you cannot refuse!' Angela cried. 'They will say you are afraid!' + +'They may say whatever occurs to them, for I will not go, and I shall +resign at once, as I said I would. My mind is made up.' + +'You cannot refuse this,' Angela repeated confidently. 'If you are +obliged to admit that there is some danger in it, though you wish +there were none, because you safely could refuse to go, it must be +very dangerous indeed. Tell me the truth, as far as you know it.' + +'It would depend on circumstances----' Giovanni hesitated. + +'You have told me that if the Government dared, it would send a large +force to protect the expedition. The larger that force would be, the +greater the danger if there is no protection at all. Is that true, or +not?' + +'It is true, in one way, but----' + +'There is no condition!' Angela interrupted him energetically. 'It is +enough that it is going to be dangerous in one way, as you say!' + +'No one can say that I ever avoided danger before,' he objected. + +'They will say many things if you refuse to go. They will shrug their +shoulders and say that you have lost your nerve, perhaps! That is a +favourite expression, and you know how people say it. Or if you make +money soon after you resign, they will say that you preferred a +fortune to risking your life for your country. Or else they will say +that a woman has made a coward of you, and that I am she!' + +'Coward!' yelled the parrot in a tone of withering contempt, and the +creature actually spat in disgust. + +Giovanni started violently, for he had not noticed the bird in the +room. Then he tried to laugh at his own surprise. + +'I do not wonder that you are surprised, Monsieur,' said Madame +Bernard with a pleasant smile. 'Oh, Coco has exactly my poor husband's +voice!' + +'I can brave a parrot's opinion,' Giovanni said, attempting to speak +gaily. + +'Will you brave mine?' Angela asked. + +'You certainly do not think I am afraid to go,' he answered, 'for you +know why I mean to refuse. My first duty is to you. As I am placed, it +would be cowardly to be afraid to face public opinion in doing that +duty, and to keep you waiting six months or a year longer than +necessary, when I have promised to provide means for us to marry +within a year. That would deserve to be called cowardice!' + +'Sale Prussien! 'cré nom d'une pipe!' yelled Coco in a tone of +disgust. + +'Really!' exclaimed Giovanni, with some annoyance. 'Does the thing +take me for an hereditary enemy, Madame?' + +Madame Bernard rose with a little laugh and went to the parrot's +perch, holding out her hand. + +'Come, Coco!' she said, coaxing him. 'It is peace now, and we can go +home to Paris again.' + +'Paris' meant her bedroom in bird language; it also meant being bribed +to be quiet with good things, and Coco strutted from his perch to her +finger. + +'Marche!' he commanded in a sharp tone, and as she moved he began to +whistle the Marseillaise with great spirit. + +She marched off, laughing and keeping step to the tune till she +disappeared into her room, shutting the door behind her. As it closed +Giovanni caught Angela's left hand and drew it to him. She laid her +right on his, quietly and affectionately. + +'Am I never to see you alone?' he asked, almost in a whisper. + +'When you come to say good-bye before starting,' Angela answered. 'I +will ask her to leave us quite alone then. But now it will only be for +a minute or two.' + +Thereupon, with the most natural movement in the world, she lifted her +hands, brought his face close to hers and kissed him, drew back a +little, looked gravely into his astonished eyes for some seconds, and +then kissed him again. + +'I love you much more than you love me,' she said with great +seriousness. 'I am sure of it.' + +It was all very different from what he had expected. He had vaguely +fancied that for a long time every kiss would have to be won from her +by a little struggle, and that every admission of her love would be +the reward of his own eloquence; instead, she took the lead herself +with a simplicity that touched him more than anything else could have +done. + +'You see!' she cried, with the intonation of a laugh not far away. 'I +took you by surprise, because I am right about it! What have you to +say?' + +He said nothing, but his lips hurt hers a little in the silence. She +shivered slightly, for she had not yet dreamed that a kiss could hurt +and yet be too short. The sound of Madame Bernard's voice came from +the next room, still talking to the parrot. Angela laid her hand on +Giovanni's gold-laced sleeve and nestled beside him, with her head in +the hollow of his shoulder. + +'I have always wanted to do this,' she said in a drowsy little voice, +as if she wished she could go to sleep where she was. 'It is my place. +When you are away in Africa, at night, under the stars, you will dream +that I am just here, resting in my very own place.' + +She felt his warm breath in her hair as he answered. + +'I will not go; I will not leave you.' + +'But you must,' she said, quickly straightening herself and looking +into his face. 'I should not love you as I do, if I could bear to +think of your staying here, to let men laugh at you, as you say they +would!' + +'It is not like resigning on the day after war is declared!' he +retorted, trying to speak lightly. + +'It is!' she cried, with a sort of eager anxiety in her voice. 'There +is only a difference in the degree--and perhaps it is worse! If there +were war, you would be one man in a hundred thousand, but now you will +be one in ten or twenty, or as many as are to go. Think what it would +be if you were the only man in Italy, the one, single, only officer +who could certainly accomplish something very dangerous to help your +country--and if you refused to do it!' + +'There are hundreds of better men than I for the work,' objected +Giovanni. + +'I doubt it. Are there hundreds of engineer officers on the General +Staff?' + +'No, but there are plenty----' + +'A score, perhaps, and you have been chosen, no matter why, and there +is danger, and there is a great thing to be done, perhaps a great +good, which in the end will save the lives, or help the lives, of many +Italians! And you want to refuse to do it--for what? For a woman, for a +girl you love! Do you think she will love you the more, or less, for +keeping out of danger, if she is a true Italian as she thinks you are? +Why is it that our Italy, which no one thought much of a few years +ago, is coming to the front in so many ways now? It was not by staying +at home for women's sake that our sailors have got nearer the North +Pole than all the others who have tried! It is not by avoiding danger +that our officers are learning to astonish everybody with their +riding----' + +'That is different,' objected Giovanni. 'It is one thing to do daring +things----' + +'Yes,' interrupted Angela, not letting him speak, 'it is the one and +only thing, when it is good daring and can bring good, and helps the +world to see that Italy is not dead yet, in spite of all that has been +said and written against us and our unity. No, no, I say! Go, do your +duty, do and dare, wherever and howsoever your country needs you, and +I will wait for you, and be glad to wait for that one reason, which is +the best of all. If you love me half as dearly as I love you, go back +at once and tell your chief that you are ready, and are proud to be +used wherever you can be of any use! And if there is danger to be +faced, think that you are to face it for my sake as well as for +Italy's, and not in spite of me, for I would ten thousand times rather +that you should die in doing your duty--ever so obscurely--than stay +here to be called a coward in order that we may be rich when we +marry!' + +Giovanni listened, more and more surprised at her energy and quick +flow of words, but glad at heart that she was urging him to do what +was right and honourable. + +'It was for you that I meant to stay,' he said. 'Hard as it is to +leave you, it would have been harder to refuse the appointment. I will +go.' + +A little silence followed, and Madame Bernard, no longer hearing their +voices, and having said everything she had to say to her parrot, +judged that it was time for her to come back and play chaperon again. +She was careful to make a good deal of noise with the latch before she +opened the door. + +'Well, Monsieur,' she asked, on the threshold, 'has Donna Angela +persuaded you that she is right? I heard her making a great speech!' + +'She is a firebrand,' laughed Giovanni, 'and a good patriot as well! +She ought to be in Parliament.' + +'You are a feminist, I perceive,' answered Madame Bernard. 'But Joan +of Arc would be in the Chambers if she could come back to this world. +The people would elect her, she would present herself in the tribune, +and she would say, "Aha, messieurs! Here I am! We shall talk, you and +I." And our little Donna Angela is a sort of Joan of Arc. People do +not know it, but I do, for I have often heard her make beautiful +speeches, as if she were inspired!' + +'It takes no inspiration to see what is right,' Angela said, shaking +her head. 'The only difficulty is to do it!' + +'Even that is easy when you lead,' Giovanni answered thoughtfully, and +without the least intention of flattering her. + +He had seen a side of her character of which he had not even suspected +the existence, and there was something about it so large and imposing +that he was secretly a little ashamed of feeling less strong than she +seemed. In two successive meetings he had come to her with his own +mind made up, but in a few moments she had talked him over to her +point of view without the least apparent difficulty, and had sent him +away fully determined to do the very opposite of that which he had +previously decided to do. It was a strange experience for a young man +of great energy and distinctly exceptional intelligence, and he did +not understand it. + +He stayed barely half-an-hour, for Madame Bernard showed no +disposition to leave the room again, and he felt the difficulty of +keeping up an indifferent conversation in her presence, as well as the +impossibility of talking freely to Angela of what was uppermost in her +thoughts and his own. It was true that the governess knew all about +it, and there are excellent women of that sort whose presence does not +always hinder lovers from discussing their future; but either Madame +Bernard was not one of these by nature, or else the two felt the +difference of her nationality too much. The French are perhaps the +only civilised nation whom no people of other nations can thoroughly +understand, and who, with very few individual exceptions, do not +understand any people but themselves. They have a way of looking at +life which surprises and sometimes amuses men of all other +nationalities; they take some matters very seriously which seem of +trivial consequence to us, but they are witty at the expense of +certain simple feelings and impulses which we gravely regard as +fundamentally important, if not sacred. They can be really and truly +heroic, to the point of risking life and limb and happiness, about +questions at which we snap our fingers, but they can be almost +insolently practical, in the sense of feeling no emotion while keenly +discerning their own interest, in situations where our tempers or our +prejudices would rouse us to recklessness. In their own estimation +they are always right, and so are we in ours, no doubt; but whereas +they consider themselves the Chosen People and us the Gentiles, or +compare themselves with us as the Greeks compared themselves with the +Barbarians, we, on our side, do not look down upon their art and +literature as they undoubtedly do on ours, and a good many of us are +rather too ready to accept them as something more than our equals in +both. When I say 'we,' I do not mean only English-speaking people, but +other Europeans also. I have overheard Frenchmen discussing all sorts +of things in trains, on steamers, in picture-galleries, in libraries, +in the streets, from Tiflis to London and from London to the Pacific, +but I have never yet heard Frenchmen admit among themselves that a +modern work of art, or book, or play was really first-rate, if it was +not French. There is something monumental in their conviction of their +own superiority, and I sincerely believe it has had much to do with +their success, as a nation, in the arts of peace as well as in war. A +man who is honestly convinced that he is better than his opponent is +not easily put down in peaceful competition, and will risk his life in +action with a gallantry and daring that command the admiration of all +brave men; and it is a singular fact that German soldiers did not call +Frenchmen cowards after the great war, whereas it was a very common +thing to hear Frenchmen inveigh against 'those dirty, cowardly +Prussians' who had got the better of them. Men who can take such a +point of view as that must be utterly unlike other people. + +This little digression should explain why Angela and Madame Bernard +never quite understood each other, in spite of the elder woman's +almost motherly love for the girl and the latter's devoted gratitude. + +They talked about Giovanni when he was gone, of course, but neither +said all she thought about him, because she feared that the other +would think a little differently. The cheerful Frenchwoman had gone +through life with the belief that it is better, on the whole, to make +oneself comfortable in this world, if it can be managed on honest +principles, than to worry oneself about heroics, and in the calm +recesses of her practical little soul she was sure that, in Angela's +place, she would have told Giovanni to resign as soon as possible and +find some pleasant and well-paid occupation for his married life. All +Angela's talk about a man's duty to his country would be very well in +time of war, when there was glory to be got; but it was nonsense in +ordinary times, where one man would do as well as another, to risk his +life in a small expedition, and when it was distinctly advisable not +to be that one. But she knew also that she had better not try to +explain this to Angela, who was evidently a little mad on the point, +most probably because she was an Italian. For Italians, Germans, +Spaniards, Englishmen, and Americans were all completely insane; there +was some little hope for Austrians and a good deal for Russians, in +Madame Bernard's opinion, but there was none for the rest, though they +might be very nice people. The safest thing was to humour them. She +had given lessons in Roman families that were half Austrian and even +half Russian, for the Romans have always been very cosmopolitan in +their marriages, but Angela was quite Italian on both sides, and so +was Giovanni. It was therefore pretty certain that they would behave +like lunatics, sooner or later, the good lady thought; and they +apparently were beginning already. + +It is needless to dwell long on what followed, since what has been +narrated so far is only the introduction to Angela's story and the +exposition of the circumstances which determined her subsequent life. +As in most cases, it happened in hers that the greatest events were +the direct consequences of one very small beginning. If she had not +urged Giovanni to wait some time before leaving the army, he would not +have been obliged to remain in the service almost as a matter of +honour, yet it had seemed very sensible to advise him to do nothing in +a hurry. Everything else followed logically upon that first step. + +It was the inevitable, and it was therefore already in nature tragic, +before active tragedy took the stage. Yet Angela did not feel its +presence, nor any presentiment of the future, when she bade Giovanni +farewell ten days after he had first been to see her in Madame +Bernard's apartment. + +What she felt was just the common pain of parting that has been the +lot of loving men and women since the beginning; it is not the less +sharp because almost every one has felt it, but it is as useless to +describe it as it would be to write a chapter about a bad toothache, a +sick headache, or an attack of gout. Angela was a brave girl and set +herself the task of bearing it quietly because it was a natural and +healthy consequence of loving dearly. It was not like the wrench of +saying good-bye to a lover on his way to meet almost certain death. +She told herself, and Giovanni told her, that in all probability he +was not going to encounter any danger worse than may chance in a day's +hunting over a rough country or in a steeple-chase, and that the risk +was certainly far less than that of fighting a duel in Italy, where +duelling is not a farce as it is in some countries. He would come back +within a few months, with considerable credit and the certainty of +promotion; it was a hundred to one that he would, so that this was +merely a common parting, to be borne without complaint. He thought so +himself, and they consoled each other by making plans for their +married life, which would be so much nearer when he came home. + +Madame Bernard left them alone for an hour in the sitting-room and +then came in to say good-bye to Giovanni herself, bringing Coco +perched upon her wrist, but silent and well-behaved. Angela was pale, +and perhaps her deep mourning made her look paler than she was, but +her face was as quiet and collected as Giovanni's. He took leave of +the governess almost affectionately. + +'Take care of her, Madame,' he said, 'and write me some news of her +now and then through the War Office. It may reach me, or it may not!' + +He kissed Angela's hand, looked into her eyes silently for a moment, +and went out. + +'Marche! 'cré nom d'un nom!' screamed the parrot after him, as if he +were going too slowly. + +But this time Angela could not speak of him with her friend just after +he was gone, and when Madame Bernard tried to talk of other things +with the idea of diverting her attention, she went and shut herself up +in her own room. It was distracting to know that he was still in Rome, +and that until nearly midnight, when the train left for Naples, it +would be possible to see him once more. If she had insisted, Madame +Bernard would have consented to go with her in a cab to find him. It +was hard to resist, as she sat by the window, listening to the distant +sound of wheels in the street; it was the first great temptation she +had ever felt in her life, and as she faced it she was surprised at +its strength. But she would not yield. In her own gentle womanliness +she found something she recognised but could not account for; was it +possible that she had some strength of character, after all? Could it +be that she inherited a little of that rigid will that had made her +father so like her idea of a Puritan? He had always told her that she +was weak, that she would be easily influenced by her surroundings, +that her only hope must be to obtain Divine aid for her feeble, +feminine nature. She had believed him, because he had taught her that +she must, even in the smallest things, and this was a great one. + +But now something cruelly strong was tearing at her, to make her go into +the next room and beg Madame Bernard to help her find Giovanni, if only +that she might see his face and hear his voice and say good-bye just +once more. She laid her hands on the window-sill as if she would hold +herself down in her chair, and she refused to move; not because it +looked foolish, for that would not have mattered, but because she chose +not to yield. Perhaps she was too proud to give way, and pride, they +told her, was always a sin, but that did not matter either. There was an +unexpected satisfaction in finding one thin strand of steel among the +pliant threads of her untried young will. + +Besides, she would have much to bear, and if she did not begin at +once, she would never grow used to the burden. That was another reason +for not following her instinct, and a very good one. + +To help herself, she began to say one of those prayers of which she +knew so many by heart. To her surprise, it disturbed her instead of +strengthening her determination, and while her lips were moving she +felt an almost overwhelming impulse to do what she was determined not +to do at any cost. The sensation startled her, and in a moment she +felt that tide of darkness rising to drown her which had almost +overwhelmed her while she was kneeling beside her dead father. Her +hand pressed the stone window-sill in terror of the awful presence. + +It is familiar to those few who have knowingly or unwittingly tried to +penetrate the darkness to the light beyond. It has been called the +Guardian, the Dweller on the Threshold, the Wall, the Destroyer, the +Giant Despair. Many have turned back from it as from death itself, +some have gone raving mad in fighting their way through it, some have +actually died in it, of failure of the heart from fright. Some come +upon it unawares in their reasoning, some in the hour of profound +meditation; some know by long experience where it is and keep away +from it; some are able to pass through it with unshaken mind and +unbroken nerves. Scarcely one in a million even guesses that it +exists; of those who do, ninety-nine in a hundred turn from it in +horror; of the remaining score of those who face it in a whole +generation of men, more than half perish in mind or body; the last +ten, perhaps, win through, and these are they that have understood the +writing over the temple door, the great 'Know thyself,' the precept of +the Delphic Oracle and of all mystics before Trophonios and since. + +Angela's lips ceased moving, and very soon she was herself again, +quietly sitting there and wondering what had frightened her so badly, +and whether there might not be something wrong with her heart, because +she remembered how it had beat twice quickly in succession and then +had seemed to stand still while she could have counted ten, quite +slowly. + +What she called her temptation left her at peace till she knew that +Giovanni's train had started. In imagination she could hear the engine's +whistle, the hissing of the steam from the purge-cocks at starting, the +quickening thunder of the high-pressure exhaust, the clanking noise as +the slowly moving train passed over the old-fashioned turn-tables, and +the long retreating rumble as the express gathered speed and ran out of +sight. + +Then it was over, for good and all; Giovanni was gone beyond the +possibility of seeing him again and the strain relaxed. Angela put out +her light, and when she fell asleep a quarter of an hour later, drops +she did not even feel were slowly trickling from her lids to the +pillow; for there are women who do not easily cry when they are awake, +but when they are sleeping their tired eyes shed the pent-up tears and +are refreshed by them. + +Angela was not left alone with Madame Bernard as much as she had +expected after the first few days, nor even as much as she might have +wished. The feeling against the Princess Chiaromonte was strong, and +as soon as it became known that Angela had found a safe refuge with +her former governess, she received several invitations from more or +less distant connections to spend some time with them in the country +during the coming summer. At the present juncture, in the height of +the season, it was natural that no one should want a forlorn young +girl in deep mourning to make a town visit. She would have been a +killjoy and a wet blanket in any house, that was clear, and nothing +could be more thoroughly respectable and proper than that she should +spend the first weeks under Madame Bernard's roof and protection. + +Some of Angela's friends of her own age came to see her by and by and +offered to take her to drive in their mothers' carriages or motor +cars, but she would not go, and though she thanked them with grateful +words for thinking of her, most of them thought, and told each other, +that she had not been very glad to see them and would rather be left +alone. They supposed that she was still too much overcome to wish for +their society, and as young people who drop out of the world after +being in it a very short time are soon forgotten, they troubled +themselves very little about her. If she ever chose to come out of her +solitude, they said, she would be welcome again, but since she wished +to be left to herself it was very convenient to humour her, because +the Princess Chiaromonte had as good as declared that there were +'excellent reasons' for her own apparently heartless conduct. No one +knew what that meant, but when she spoke in that way it was more +blessed to accept her statement than to get her enmity by doubting it. +The Chiaromonte family were at liberty to settle their own affairs as +seemed best in their own eyes, and as the law could not interfere, no +one else felt inclined to do so. Angela had no near relations on her +mother's side to protect her or take her in. + +Six weeks passed away without incident after Giovanni had left, and +she had received three letters from him--one from Naples, written +before going on board the steamer, one from Port Said, and one from +Massowah after his arrival there. The expedition was to start in three +days, he said; it had been waiting for him and the officer who was to +take the command, and who had gone with him. + +A short time after receiving this last letter Angela was reading the +news from an evening paper to Madame Bernard, translating the +paragraphs offhand into French, by force of habit, because her old +governess had often made her do it for practice. + +Suddenly her eyes became fixed, the colour left her face, and she +dropped the newspaper with a short, loud cry, falling back in her +chair at the same moment. + +Madame Bernard snatched up the sheet and glanced at the place where +the girl had last been reading. + +The expedition had fallen in with hostile natives a week after +starting and had been massacred to a man. The names of the dead were +given, and Giovanni's was the second on the list. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Angela lived for weeks in a state of sleepless apathy, so far as her +companion could see. She scarcely spoke, and ate barely enough to keep +herself alive. She seemed not to sleep at all, for two or three times +during every night Madame Bernard got up and came to her room, and she +always found her lying quite motionless on her back, her eyes wide +open and staring at the tasteless little pattern of flowers stencilled +in colours on the ceiling. Once Madame Bernard proposed to take away +the night-light that burned in a cup on the floor, but Angela shook +her head almost energetically. She never opened a book either, nor +occupied herself in any way, but seemed content to sit still all day +and to lie awake all night, never complaining, and never even speaking +unless her friend asked her a direct question. Every morning at +sunrise she put on her hat and went to the ancient church of San +Crisogono, which is served by Trinitarian monks. Sometimes Madame +Bernard went with her, but more often she was accompanied by the one +woman-servant who cooked and did the housework. + +The unhappy girl found neither consolation nor hope in the daily +service; she went to it because, somehow, it seemed to be the only +thing she could do for the dead. She knelt down every day on the same +spot, and remained kneeling till after the priest and the acolyte were +gone; she took her missal with her, but never looked at it, and her +lips never moved in prayer; she felt no impulse to go to confession, +nor any devotional craving for the Communion. The mass was a mere form +to her, but she attended it regularly, as if she expected that much of +herself and would not do less than the least that seemed to be her +duty. That was all. Prayer in any form of words frightened her, for it +soon brought her near to that blinding darkness which she had already +met twice and had learned to dread; her present misfortune was +incomparably greater than those that had gone before, and she was sure +that if the outer night rose round her again it would take her soul +down into itself to eternal extinction. If she had been physically +stronger, she might have tried to call this a foolish delusion; weak +as she was, and growing daily weaker, it seemed as certain as that her +body must perish instantly if she walked over a precipice. The past +was distorted, the present had no meaning, and there was no future; +she vaguely understood Dante's idea that the body may be left on +earth, apparently alive, for years after the soul has departed from +it, for the evil Alberigo's spirit told the poet that his own body and +Branca d'Oria's were still animated by demons when their souls were +already in the torment of the eternal ice. But Angela felt rather as +if her living self were a mere senseless shell, uninhabited by any +spirit, bad or good, and moved by the mechanics of nature rather than +by her own will or another's. + +Madame Bernard watched her with growing anxiety as the days and weeks +brought no change. The little lodging in Trastevere was very silent, +and Coco sat disconsolately drooping his wings on his perch when his +mistress was out, as she was during more than half the day, giving the +lessons by which she and Angela lived. The girl sometimes did not move +from her chair throughout the long morning any more than if she had +been paralysed, or at most she tried to tend the flowers. The roses +were blooming now, and on fine days, when the windows were open, the +aromatic perfume of the young carnations floated in with the sunbeams. +Angela did not notice the scent, and for all the pleasure the blossoms +gave her they might have been turnips and potatoes. But there was a +feeble underlying thought of duty in plucking off a small withered +leaf here and there, and in picking out the tiny weeds that tried to +grow round the flower-stems. From very far away she heard Madame +Bernard telling her, an age ago, that she could tend the flowers and +take care of the parrot by way of helping in the house. + +Coco regarded her efforts with melancholy contempt, and turned his +back on her when she came near him, and even when she changed the +water in his tin cup. As he only drank three or four drops in a day, +it probably seemed to him a work of supererogation. While his mistress +was out he rarely uttered a sound; but when he heard her footstep in +the short passage outside, he gave vent to his feelings and hailed her +return with boisterous shouts and unearthly whistling of old French +military tunes. Even the noise he made did not disturb Angela; she +hardly heard him, for her nerves were not overwrought, but deadened +almost to insensibility. + +Madame Bernard consulted a young doctor, a man of talent, who was +taking lessons of her for the sake of his practice among foreigners. +She used to say that between her pupils, and their friends and +relations, she could get the best advice on any matter without paying +a penny for it. The young physician answered that he could not help +her much without seeing the patient, but that the best thing for +Angela would be to eat and sleep well and not to fret. + +Some such idea had probably occurred to the little Frenchwoman, for +she laughed gaily in the doctor's face, and he, not being paid to look +serious, joined in her laughter. + +'You cannot say it is bad advice,' he said, 'and you wanted me to say +something. Let me see the young lady, and I will tell you honestly +whether I know of anything that will do her good, as I would tell a +colleague.' + +They agreed that he should call one evening on pretence of taking an +extra lesson in a leisure hour; he came at the appointed time, and +watched Angela narrowly during the short time she remained in the +room. When she was gone, he gave his opinion without hesitation. + +'The best thing for her would be a good illness,' he said. 'You look +surprised! I will try to explain. That young lady is stronger than you +think. It would do her a world of good to shed tears, but she cannot +because her unconscious power of resistance has been exercised till it +has grown rigid. You have heard of Hindu devotees who hold up one arm +till it stiffens in that position, so that they could not move it if +they tried. That is an image of what I mean, unless it is the thing +itself. After learning the terrible news Donna Angela unconsciously +steeled herself against her natural impulse to break down. She has a +strong will, and the result is what you see. The strain of resisting +was so great that it deadened her to all sensation in a few hours. If +she could fall ill, the tension would relax; in my opinion it will do +so when her physical strength is worn out by starvation and lack of +sleep, but a simple specific malady, like the whooping-cough or the +measles, would be better for her. If you cannot break up her present +condition, and if she has any organic weakness of the heart, it may +stop beating one of these days. That is what is called dying of a +broken heart, my dear Madame Bernard. There is no medicine against +that like a broken leg!' + +'Fie!' cried Madame Bernard. 'You have no human feeling at all!' + +'I am sorry,' answered the physician, with a smile, 'but it is my +business to have a head instead. You asked my opinion and I have given +it, as I would to another doctor. The old-fashioned ones would laugh +at me, the younger ones would understand.' + +'If you could only make the poor child sleep a little! Is there +nothing?' + +'She is not neurasthenic,' the doctor objected. 'It would be of no use +to give her sleeping medicines, for after a few days they would have +no effect, except to excite her nerves unnaturally.' + +'Or something to give her an appetite,' suggested Madame Bernard +vaguely. + +'She has an excellent appetite if she only knew it. The reason why she +does not eat is that she does not know she is hungry, though she is +half starved. I served in the African campaign when I was a young +military surgeon. I have seen healthy men faint for want of food when +they had plenty at hand because they could not realise that they were +hungry in their intense preoccupation. Great emotions close the +entrance to the stomach, often for a considerable time. It is well +known, and it is easier than you think to form the habit of living on +next to nothing. It is the first step that counts.' + +'As they said of Saint Denis when he carried his head three steps +after it was cut off,' said Madame Bernard thoughtfully, and without a +smile. + +'Precisely,' the doctor assented. 'I myself have seen a man sit his +horse at a full gallop, without relaxing his hold, for fifty yards +after he had been shot through the head. The seat of the nerves that +direct automatic motion is not in the brain, but appears to be in the +body, near the spine. When it is not injured, what used to be called +unconscious cerebration may continue for several seconds after death. +Similarly, bodily habits, like feeling hunger or being insensible to +it, appear to have their origin in those ganglions and not in any sort +of thought. Consequently, thought alone, without a strong exercise of +the will, has little effect upon such habits of the body. When a man +does a thing he does not mean to do, and says "I cannot help it," he +is admitting this fact. If you were to ask Donna Angela if she means +to starve herself to death deliberately, she would deny it with +indignation, but would tell you that she really cannot eat, and +meanwhile she is starving. Give her a comparatively harmless illness +like the measles, severe enough to break up the ordinary automatic +habits of the body, and she will eat again, with an excellent +appetite. In all probability I could give her the measles by +artificial means, but unfortunately that sort of treatment is not yet +authorised!' + +The young doctor, who was not by any means a dreamer, seemed much +amused at his own conclusion, which looks absurd even on paper, and +Madame Bernard did not believe a word he said. In questions of +medicine women are divided into two great classes, those who will +consult any doctor and try anything, and those who only ask the +doctor's opinion when they are forced to, and who generally do +precisely the opposite of what he suggests. This is a more practical +view and is probably the safer, if they must go to one of the two +extremes. Moreover, doctors are so much inclined to disagree that when +three of them give a unanimous opinion it is apt to be worthless. + +The only immediate result of Madame Bernard's consultation with the +doctor was that she disappointed one of her pupils the next day in +order to gain an hour, which she devoted to making a very exquisite +'mousse de volaille' for Angela. The poor girl was much touched, but +could only eat two or three mouthfuls, and the effort she made to +overcome her repugnance was so unmistakable that the good little +Frenchwoman was more anxious for her than hurt at the failure. + +She had tried two sciences, she said to herself, but the doctor of +medicine had talked the nonsense of theories to her, and the combined +wisdom of Vatel, Brillat-Savarin, and Carźme had proved fruitless. A +person who could not eat Madame Bernard's 'mousse de volaille' could +only be cured by a miracle. Accordingly, she determined to consult a +churchman without delay, and went out early in the afternoon. Angela +did not notice that she was dressed with more than usual care, as if +for a visit of importance. + +She had been gone about half-an-hour, and the young girl was sitting +in her accustomed place, listless and apathetic as usual, when the +door-bell rang, and a moment later the woman-servant came in, saying +that a foreign gentleman was on the landing who insisted on seeing +Angela, even though she was alone. After giving a long and not +flattering description of his appearance, the woman held out the card +he had given her. Angela glanced at it and read the name of Filmore +Durand, and above, in pencil, half-a-dozen words: 'I have brought you +a portrait.' + +Angela did not understand in the least, though she tried hard to +concentrate her thoughts. + +'Ask the gentleman to come in,' she answered at last, hardly knowing +what she said. + +She turned her face to the window again, and in the course of thirty +seconds, when she was roused by Durand's voice in the room, she had +almost forgotten that he was in the house. She had not heard English +spoken since she had left his studio on the morning when her father +died, and she started at the sound. For weeks, nothing had made such +an impression on her. + +She rose to receive the great painter, who was standing near the table +in the middle of the room, looking at her in surprise and real +anxiety, for she was little more than a shadow of the girl he had +painted six weeks or two months earlier. He himself had brought in a +good-sized picture, wrapped in new brown paper; it stood beside him on +the floor, reaching as high as his waist, and his left hand rested on +the upper edge. He held out the other to Angela, who took it +apathetically. + +'You have been very ill,' he said in a tone of concern. + +'No,' she answered. 'I am only a little tired. Will you not sit down?' + +She sank into her seat again, and one thin hand lay on the cushioned +arm of the chair. Instead of seating himself, Durand lifted the +picture, still wrapped up, and set it upright on the table, so that it +faced her. + +'I heard,' he said in a low voice, 'so I did this for you from memory +and a photograph.' + +There was a sudden crackling and tearing of the strong paper as he +ripped it off with a single movement, and then there was absolute +silence for some time. Angela seemed not even to breathe, as she +leaned forward with parted lips and unwinking, wondering eyes. + +Then, without even a warning breath, a cry broke from her heart. + +'He is not dead! You have seen him again! He is alive--they have +cheated me!' + +Then she choked and leaned back, pressing her handkerchief to her +mouth. + +Instead of answering, the painter bent his head and looked down +sideways at his own astounding handiwork, and for the second time in +that year he was almost satisfied. Presently, as Angela said nothing +more, he was going to move the canvas, to show it in a better light, +but she thought he meant to take it away. + +'No!' she cried imperatively. 'Not yet! Let me see it--let me +understand----' + +Her words died away and she was silent again, her eyes fixed on the +portrait. At last she rose, came forward, and laid both her thin hands +on the narrow black and gold frame. + +'I must have it,' she said. 'You must let me have it, though I cannot +pay for it. But I will some day. I will work till I can earn enough +money, or till I die--and if that comes soon, they will give you back +the picture. You cannot take it away!' + +Durand saw that she had not understood. + +'It is for you,' he said. 'I painted it to give to you. You see, after +your father died, I kept yours--I never meant them to have it, but it +seemed as if I owed you something for it, and this is to pay my debt. +Do you see?' + +'How kind you are!' she cried. 'How very, very kind! I do not quite +follow the idea--my head is always so tired now--but I knew you would +understand how I should feel--if I accepted it without any return!' + +So far as arithmetic went, the man of genius and the broken-hearted +girl were equally far from ordinary reckoning. Durand knew that by a +turn of luck he had been able to keep the only portrait he had ever +been sorry to part with when it was finished, and he was intimately +convinced that he owed somebody something for such an unexpected +pleasure; on her side, Angela was quite sure that unless the portrait +of the man she had loved was to be an equivalent for some sort of +obligation she could not be satisfied to keep it all her life unpaid +for. + +It filled the little sitting-room with light and colour, as a Titian +might have done; it was as intensely alive as Giovanni Severi had +been--the eyes were full of those quick little coruscations of fire +that had made them so unlike those of other men, the impulsive +nostrils seemed to quiver, the healthy young blood seemed to come and +go in the tanned cheeks, the square shoulders were just ready to make +that quick, impatient little movement that had been so characteristic +of him, so like the sudden tension of every muscle when a thoroughbred +scents sport or danger. No ordinary artist would ever have seen all +there was in the man, even in a dozen sittings, but the twin gifts of +sight and memory had unconsciously absorbed and held the whole, and a +skill that was never outdone in its time had made memory itself +visible on the canvas. Something that was neither a 'harmless illness' +nor a 'miracle' had waked Angela from her torpor. + +'How can I thank you?' she asked, after a long pause. 'You do not know +what it is to me to see his living face--you will call it an +illusion--it seems as if----' + +She broke off suddenly and pressed her handkerchief to her lips again. + +'Only what you call the unreal can last unchanged for a while,' the +painter said, catching at the word she had used, and thinking more of +his art than of her. 'Only an ideal can be eternal, but every honest +attempt to give it shape has a longer life than any living creature. +Nature makes only to destroy, but art creates for the very sake of +preserving the beautiful.' + +She heard each sentence, but was too absorbed in the portrait to +follow his meaning closely. Perhaps it would have escaped her if she +had tried. + +'Only good and evil are everlasting,' she said, almost unconsciously +repeating words she had heard somewhere when she was a child. + +Durand looked at her quickly, but he saw that she was not really +thinking. + +'What is "good"?' he asked, as if he were sure that there was no +answer to the question. + +It attracted her attention, and she turned to him; she was coming back +to life. + +'Whatever helps people is good,' she said. + +'The French proverb says "Help thyself and God will help thee,"' +suggested Durand. + +'No, it should be "Help others, and God will help you,"' Angela +answered. + +The artist fixed his eyes on her as he nodded a silent assent; and +suddenly, though her face was so changed, he knew it was more like his +portrait of her than ever, and that the prophecy of his hand was +coming to fulfilment. + +He stayed a moment longer, and asked if he could be of any service to +her or Madame Bernard. She thanked him vaguely, and almost smiled. He +felt instinctively that she was thinking of what she had last said, +and was wishing that some one would tell her how she might do +something for others, rather than that another should do anything for +her. + +She went with him to the door at the head of the stairs and let him +out herself. + +'Thank you,' she said, 'thank you! You don't know what you have done +for me!' + +He looked at her in thoughtful silence for a few seconds, holding her +hand as if they were old friends. + +'There is no such thing as death,' he said gravely. + +And with this odd speech he left her and went slowly down the narrow +stone steps; and though she watched him till he disappeared at the +next landing, he did not once turn his head. + +When she was in the sitting-room she set the framed picture on a +straight chair near the window and sat down before it in her +accustomed seat; and Durand's last words came back to her again and +again, as if they were begging to be remembered and understood. Her +memory brought with them many exhortations and sayings from the sacred +books, but none of them seemed to mean just what she knew that little +speech of his must mean if she could quite understand it. + +She had come to life again unexpectedly, and the spell of her dreadful +solitude was broken. She did not think it strange that her eyes were +dry as she gazed at the well-loved face, while the inner voice told +her that there was 'no such thing as death.' The dead man had done his +duty, and he expected her to do hers until the time came for them to +meet for ever. + +In the aimless wandering of her thoughts during the past weeks she had +only understood that he was gone. In an uncounted moment, while she +had been turning over the leaves of a book, or idly talking with +Madame Bernard, or plucking a withered leaf from one of the plants +outside the window, he had been fighting for his life and had lost it. +Perhaps she had been quietly asleep just then. She had heard people +say they were sure that if anything happened to those they dearly +loved, some warning would reach them; she had heard tales of persons +appearing at the moment of their death to those dearest to them, and +even to indifferent people. Such stories were but idle talk, for while +she had been reading the news out to Madame Bernard, she had been +expecting to hear that the expedition was advancing successfully on +its way, she had been wondering what chance there was of getting a +letter from the interior, she had been intimately convinced that +Giovanni was safe, well, and making good progress, when he had been +dead a fortnight. + +Madame Bernard had read the details, so far as they were known, but +she had wisely said nothing except that the news was fully confirmed. +Angela herself had refused to touch a newspaper since that day; it had +been enough that he was gone--to know how, or even to guess, would be a +suffering she could not face. What had been found of the poor men who +had perished had been brought home; there had been a great military +funeral for them; their names were inscribed for ever on the roll of +honour. In time, when the political situation changed, an effort would +be made to avenge their death, no doubt; for every man who had been +murdered a hundred would be slain, or more, if possible, till even a +Scythian might feel satisfied that their angry spirits were appeased +by blood. Angela knew nothing of all this, for she never left the +house except to go to early mass every day, and Madame Bernard never +spoke of the dead man nor of the lost expedition. + +When the governess came home, a little after sunset, Angela was still +sitting before the picture, her chin resting on her hand and her elbow +on her knee as she leaned forward to see better in the failing light. +The girl turned her head with a bright smile, and Madame Bernard +started in surprise when she saw the portrait. + +'It is he!' she cried. 'It is he, to the very life!' + +'Yes,' Angela answered softly, 'it is Giovanni. He has been telling me +that I must do my part, as he did his. He is waiting for me, but I +cannot go to him till my share is done.' + +She was gazing at the face again, while Madame Bernard looked from it +to her in undisguised astonishment. + +'I do not understand, my dear,' she said very gently. 'Who has brought +you this wonderful picture?' + +She hardly expected an explanation, and she guessed that the portrait +was Durand's work, for few living painters could have made such a +likeness, and none would have painted it in that way, which was +especially his own. To her surprise Angela turned on her chair without +rising, and told her just what had happened, since he had come in +early in the afternoon bringing the picture with him. When she had +finished she turned to it again, as if there were nothing more to be +said, and at that moment Coco began to talk in a tone that made +further conversation impossible. Madame Bernard took him on her hand +and disappeared with him. + +When she came back, Angela was standing on a chair holding up the +portrait with both hands and trying to hang it by the inner edge of +the frame on an old nail she had found already driven into the wall. +Madame Bernard at once began to help her, as if not at all surprised +at her sudden energy, though it seemed nothing less than miraculous. + +They succeeded at last, and both got down from their chairs and drew +back two steps to judge of the effect. + +'It is a little too high,' Angela said thoughtfully. To-morrow I will +get a cord and two rings to screw into the frame at the back, and then +we will hang it just as it should be.' + +'Perhaps we could put it in a better light,' Madame Bernard suggested. +'The room is so dark now that one cannot judge of that.' + +'He must be where he can see me,' Angela said. + +Her friend looked puzzled, and the young girl smiled again, quite +naturally. + +'I am not dreaming,' she said, as if answering a question not spoken. +'I do not mean that the picture can really see, any more than I +believe that what they call "miraculous images" of saints are the +saints themselves! But when I see the eyes of the portrait looking +straight at me, I feel that he himself must see me, from where he is; +and he will see me do my part, as he has done his. At least, I hope I +may.' + +She went to her own room, and Madame Bernard followed her to light the +little lamp for her as she had always done of late. But to-day Angela +insisted on doing it herself. + +'You must not wait on me any more,' said the girl. 'I have been very +idle for weeks, but I did not understand, and you will forgive me, +because you are so good and kind.' + +'You are a little angel, my dear!' cried Madame Bernard, much +affected. 'They did right to name you Angela!' + +But Angela shook her head, as she put the paper shade over the cheap +lamp, and then went to the window to close the inner shutters before +drawing the chintz curtains. + +'I have been a very useless little angel,' she answered, 'and I am +sorry for it. But I mean to do better now, and you will help me, won't +you?' + +'That is all I ask! But to tell the truth, I was discouraged to-day, +and I have been to ask the advice of a very good man. There! I have +told you, and I am glad of it, because I hate secrets! He has promised +to come and see you, and talk to you, but now that you are yourself +again----' She stopped, as if embarrassed. + +'Who is he?' asked Angela with a shade of distrust. 'A priest?' + +'Please do not be angry!' Madame Bernard began to repent of what she +had done. 'I was so much distressed--I felt that you were slipping out +of the world day by day, just dying of a broken heart, so I went to +see him this afternoon.' + +'I am not going to die,' Angela said confidently. 'Who is he? I think +I know at last what I must do, without the advice of a priest. But +tell me who he is.' + +'He is such a good man, my dear--Monsignor Saracinesca.' + +'That is different,' Angela said, changing her tone at once. 'I shall +be very glad to see Monsignor Saracinesca. He is a real saint, if +there is one living.' + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +There is a religious house in Rome, beyond the Tiber and not far from +Porta Portese, which I will call the Convent of the White Sisters of +Santa Giovanna d'Aza. Their order is a branch of a great and ancient +one, though it has not had a separate existence a very long time. The +convent contains one of the best private hospitals in Italy, and the +Sisters also go out as trained nurses, like those of several other +orders. But they do something more, which the others do not; for +almost every year two or three, or even four of them go out to the Far +East to work in the leper hospitals which missionaries have +established in Rangoon and elsewhere; and a good many have gone in the +last ten years, but few will ever return. + +The convent is much larger than any one would suppose who judged +merely from the uninteresting stuccoed wall which faces the quiet +street, and in which there are a few plain windows without shutters +and a large wooden door, painted a dull green. This door, which is the +main entrance, is opened and shut by the portress as often as a +hundred times a day and more; but when it is open there is nothing to +be seen within but a dark vestibule paved with flagstones; and the +portress's wooden face is no more prepossessing than the wall itself. +If any one asks her a question, she answers civilly in a businesslike +tone, with a hard foreign accent, for she is the widow of one of the +Swiss Guards at the Vatican; but she is naturally silent, stolid, +mechanical, and trustworthy. She is a lay sister and is called Sister +Anna, and she lives in a small room on the left of the vestibule, as +you go in, five steps above the stone pavement. She is very rarely +relieved from her duties for a few hours at a time, and all the +patients must pass her when they enter or leave the house, as well as +the doctors, and the visitors whose smart carriages and motor cars +often stand waiting in the narrow street. Fifty times a day, perhaps, +the door-bell rings and Sister Anna deliberately flaps down the five +steps in her heavily-soled slippers to admit one person or another, +and fifty times, again, she flaps down to let them out again. The +reason why she does not go mad or become an imbecile is that she is +Swiss. That, at least, is how it strikes the celebrated surgeon, +Professor Pieri, who is at the convent very often because he has many +of his patients brought there to be operated on and nursed. + +The truth is that the hospital is a thoroughly modern one, which has +been built as an extension of buildings that date from the thirteenth +and fourteenth centuries. It is managed on soundly scientific +principles, without the least fuss, or any 'board of trustees' or +'committee of management,' or any of that cumbrous administration +which makes so many public hospitals as intricate as labyrinths, only +to be threaded with a clue of red tape, and proportionately +unpractical. + +There is a still and sunny garden within, surrounded by a wide and dry +cloister, above which the ancient building rises only one story on the +three sides of the square; but on the fourth side, which looks towards +the sun at noon, there are three stories, which have been built +lately, and the hospital wards are in that wing, one above the other. +On the opposite side, a door opens from the cloister to the choir of +the church, which has also an outer entrance from the street, now +rarely used; for the chaplain comes and goes through the cloister, the +vestibule, and the green door where the portress is. + +Beyond her lodge there is a wide hall, with clerestory windows and +glass doors opening to the cloister and the garden; and from this hall +the hospital itself is reached by a passage through which all the +patients are taken. The Mother Superior's rooms are those above the +cloister on the further side of the garden, and have three beautiful +thirteenth century windows divided by pairs of slender columns, so +that each window has two little arches. + +In the middle of the garden there is an old well with three arches of +carved stone that spring from three pillars and meet above the centre +of the well-head, and the double iron chain runs over a wheel, and has +two wrought copper buckets, one at each end of it; but the water is +now used only for watering the flowers. There are stone seats round +the well, too, on which three old nuns often sit and sun themselves on +fine days. They are the last of the Sisters of the old time, when +there was no hospital and no training school, and the nuns used to do +anything in the way of nursing that was asked of them by rich or poor, +with a good heart and a laudable intention, but without even the +simplest elements of modern prophylaxis, because it had not been +invented then. For that has all been discovered quite recently, as we +older men can remember only too well. + +There are many roses in the garden, and where there is most sun there +is a large bed of carnations, but not of the finer sorts; they are +just plain red and white ones, that fill the air with a scent of warm +cloves on still mornings in the late spring, when it is beginning to +be hot. But if this description has seemed tedious, you must know that +Angela lived in the convent and worked there for five whole years +after Giovanni was lost in Africa; so that it was needful to say +something about her surroundings. + +An accomplished psychologist would easily fill a volume with the +history of Angela's soul from the day on which she learned the bad +news till the morning when she made her profession and took the final +vows of her order in the little convent church. But one great +objection to psychological analysis in novels seems to be that the +writer never gets beyond analysing what he believes that he himself +would have felt if placed in the 'situation' he has invented for his +hero or heroine. Thus analysed, Angela Chiaromonte would not have +known herself, any more than those who knew her best, such as Madame +Bernard and her aunt the Princess, would have recognised her. I shall +not try to 'factorise' the result represented by her state of mind +from time to time; still less shall I employ a mathematical process to +prove that the ratio of _dx_ to _dy_ is twice _x_, the change in +Angela at any moment of her moral growth. + +What has happened must be logical, just because it has happened; if we +do not understand the logic, that may or may not be the worse for us, +but the facts remain. + +It is easy, too, to talk of a 'vocation' and to lay down the law +regarding it, in order to say that such and such a woman acted wisely +in entering a religious order, or that such another made a mistake. +The fact that there is no such law is itself the reason why neither a +man nor a woman is permitted nowadays to take permanent vows until +after a considerable period of probation, first as a 'postulant' and +then as a novice. + +For my own part, when Angela Chiaromonte left Madame Bernard's +pleasant rooms in Trastevere and went into the convent hospital of +Santa Giovanna d'Aza through the green door, I do not believe that she +had the very smallest intention of becoming a nun, nor that she felt +anything like what devout persons call a 'vocation.' It was not to +disappear from the world for ever that she went there, and it was not +in order to be alone with her sorrow, though that would have been a +natural and human impulse; nor was it because she felt herself drawn +to an existence of asceticism and mystic meditation. + +The prospect of work was what attracted her. She was a perfectly +healthy-minded girl, and though she might never cease to mourn the man +she had loved, it was to be foreseen that in all other respects she +might recover entirely from the terrible shock and live out a normal +life. Under ordinary circumstances that is what would have happened; +she would have gone back to the world after a time, outwardly the +same, though inwardly changed in so far as all possibilities of love +and marriage were concerned; she would have lived in society, year +after year, growing old gracefully and tenderly, as some unmarried +women do whose stories we never knew or have forgotten, but whose +hearts are far away, watching for the great To-morrow, beside a dead +man's grave, or praying before an altar whence the god has departed. +They are women whom we never call 'old maids,' perhaps because we feel +that in memory they are sharing their lives with a well-loved +companion whom we cannot see. That might have been Angela's future. + +But a brutal fact put such a possibility out of the question. She was +a destitute orphan, living on the charity of her former governess, +whereas her nature was independent, brave, and self-reliant. When she +rose above the wave that had overwhelmed her, and opened her eyes and +found her senses again, her instinct was to strike out for herself, +and though she talked with Monsignor Saracinesca again and again, she +had really made up her mind after her first conversation with him. She +saw that she must work for her living, but at the same time she longed +to devote her life to some good work for Giovanni's sake. The +churchman told her that if she could learn to nurse the sick, she +might accomplish both ends. + +He never suggested that she should become a nun, or take upon herself +any permanent obligation. He had seen much of human nature; the girl +was very young, and perhaps he underrated the strength of her love for +the dead man, and thought that she might yet marry happily and live a +normal woman's life. But there was no reason why she should not become +a trained nurse in the meantime, and there was room for her in the +nuns' hospital of Saint Joan of Aza, an institution which owes its +first beginnings and much of its present success to the protection of +the Saracinesca family, and more particularly to the Princess herself, +the beautiful Donna Corona of other days, and to her second son, +Monsignor Ippolito. The hospital was always in need of young nurses, +especially since a good many of the older ones were going to the Far +East, and when there was a choice the Mother Superior gave the +preference to applicants from the better classes. + +The matter was therefore settled without difficulty, and Angela was +soon installed in the tiny room which remained her cell for years +afterwards. It contained a narrow iron bedstead, and during the day a +small brass cross always lay on the white coverlet; there was a chest +of drawers, a minute table on which stood an American nickeled alarum +clock; there was one rush-bottomed chair, and the only window looked +westwards over the low city wall towards Monteverde, where the powder +magazine used to stand before it was blown up. The window was latticed +half-way up, which did not hinder Angela from seeing the view when she +had time to look at it. + +She wore a plain grey frock at first, but when she was in the wards it +was quite covered by the wide white cotton garment which all the +nurses wore when on duty. Occasionally Madame Bernard came and took +her for a walk, and sometimes she went out on an errand with one of +the nuns; but she did not care very much for that, possibly because +she was not under any restraint. The beautiful enclosed garden was +wide and sunny, and she could generally be alone there; when the +weather was fine she could wander about between the beds of roses and +carnations or sit on a bench, and if it rained she could walk up and +down under the cloisters. The three old nuns who came out to sun +themselves paid no attention to her, beyond nodding rather shakily +when she bent her head to them in respectful salutation. They had seen +more than a hundred girls enter the convent, to work and grow old like +themselves, and one more neither made any difference to them nor +possessed for them the least interest. That strange petrifaction had +begun in them which overtakes all very old monks and nuns who have +never had very active minds. From doing the same things, with no +appreciable variation, at the same hours for fifty, sixty, and even +seventy years, they become so perfectly mechanical that their bodies +are always in one of a limited number of attitudes, less and less +pronounced as great age advances, till they at last cease to move at +all and die, as the hands of a clock stop when it has run down. + +But the three old nuns belonged to a past generation, and it was not +probable that the younger Sisters would ever be like them. The Mother +Superior was a small and active woman, with quick black eyes, a +determined mouth, and a strangely pale face. She seemed to be +incapable of being tired. Among themselves the novices called her the +little white volcano. When the one who had invented the epithet +repeated it to Monsignor Saracinesca in confession, and he gently told +her that it was wrong to speak disrespectfully of her superior, she +rather pertly asked him whether any one who lived under a volcano +could fail to 'respect' it; whereat he shook his head gravely inside +the confessional, but his spiritual mouth twitched with amusement, in +spite of himself. The four novices were inclined to distrust Angela at +first, however, as she was not even a postulant, and it was not till +she became one of themselves that she was initiated into their +language. + +It was not long before this took place, however. From the first, she +showed a most unusual aptitude in learning the mechanical part of her +profession, and her extraordinary memory made it easy for her to +remember the lectures which were given for the nurses three times a +week, generally by the house surgeon, but occasionally by the great +Doctor Pieri, who had been a pupil of Basini of Padua and was a +professor in the University of Rome. He showed especial interest in +Angela, and the pert little novice wickedly suggested that he was +falling in love with her; but the truth was that he at once +distinguished in her the natural gifts which were soon to make her the +most valuable nurse at his disposal. + +The Mother Superior expected that she would become vain and gave her +some energetic lectures on the evils of conceit. There was a sort of +fury of good about the pale woman that carried everything before it. +She was just, but her righteous anger was a ready firebrand, and when +it burst into flame, as often happened, her eloquence was +extraordinary. Her face might have been carved out of white ice, but +her eyes glowed like coals and her words came low, quick, and clear, +and wonderfully to the point. As a girl, her temper had been terrific, +and had estranged her from her own family; but her unconquerable will +had forged it into a weapon that never failed her in a just cause and +was never drawn in an unjust one. Monsignor Saracinesca sometimes +thought that Saint Paul must have had the same kind of fiery and +fearless temperament. + +It sometimes outran facts, if it always obeyed her intention, as +happened one day when she privately gave Angela a sermon on vanity +which would have made the other novices tremble at the time and feel +very uncomfortable for several days afterwards. When she had wound up +her peroration and finished, she drew two or three fierce little +breaths and scrutinised the young girl's face; but to her surprise it +had not changed in the least. The clear young eyes were as steady and +quiet as ever; if they expressed anything, it was a quiet admiration +which the older woman had not hitherto roused in the younger members +of her community. + +'Pray for me, Mother,' Angela said, 'and I will try to be less vain.' + +The other looked at her again very keenly, and then, instead of +answering, asked a question. + +'Why do you wish to be a nun?' + +Angela had lately asked herself the same thing, but she replied with +some diffidence: + +'If I can do a little good, by working very hard all my life, I hope +that it may be allowed to help the soul of a person who died +suddenly.' + +The Mother Superior's white face softened a little. + +'That is a good intention,' she said. 'If it is sincere and lasting, +you will be a good nun. You may begin your noviciate on Sunday if you +have made up your mind.' + +'I am ready.' + +'Very well. I have only one piece of advice to give you, and perhaps I +shall remind you of it often, for it was given to me very late, and I +should have been the better for it. Try to remember what I tell you.' + +'I will remember, Mother.' + +'It is this. Count your failures but not your successes. You cannot +surprise God by the amount of good you do. There are girls who enter +upon the noviciate just as hard-working students go up for an +examination, hoping to astonish their examiners by the amount they +know. That is well enough at the university, but it is all wrong in +religion. Work how you will, you cannot be perfect, and, if you were, +you could only be what God made man before sin came. Each student is +trying to beat all the others, and one succeeds. We are not trying to +outdo each other; there are no marks in our examination and there is +no competition. We are working together to save life in a world where +millions die for want of care. To do less than the best we can is +failure, for each of us, and the best we can all do together is very +little compared with all there is to be done. Faith, Hope, and Charity +are all we have to help us, all we can ask of Heaven. Believe, hope, +and help others while you live, and all will go well hereafter, never +fear! Not to help, not to believe, not to hope, even during one +moment, is to fail in that moment. Where the sum is light, it is easy +to count the dark places, but not the light itself. That is what I +mean, my daughter, when I say, keep account of your failures but not +of your successes. Try to remember it.' + +'Indeed I will,' Angela answered. + +She went back to her work, and the Mother Superior's words thereafter +became the rule of her life; but she was not sent for again to listen +to a lecture on vanity, and the small White Volcano was inclined to +think that it had made a mistake in breaking out, and inwardly offered +a conditional apology. + +Angela worked hard, and made such progress that before the two years +of her noviciate were over Doctor Pieri said openly that she was the +best surgical nurse in the hospital, and one of the best for ordinary +illnesses, considering how limited her experience had been. The +nursing of wounds is more mechanical than the nursing of a fever, for +instance, and can be sooner learned by a beginner, where the surgeon +himself is always at hand. On the other hand, the value of surgical +nursing depends on relative perfection of detail and rigorous +adherence to the set rules of prophylaxis, whereas other nursing often +requires that judgment which only experience can give. Surgery is a +fine art that has reached a high degree of development in the +treatment of facts, about which good surgeons are generally right. A +great deal of noise is made over surgeons' occasional mistakes, which +are advertised by their detractors, but we hear little of their steady +and almost constant success. Medicine, on the other hand, must very +often proceed by guesswork; but for that very reason it covers up its +defects more anxiously, and is more inclined to talk loudly of its +victories. Every great physician admits that a good deal of his +science is psychological; and psychology deals with the unknown, or +with what is only partially knowable. A mathematician may smile and +answer that 'infinity' is much more than partially 'unknowable,' but +that, by using it, the differential calculus gives results of most +amazing accuracy, and is such a simple affair that, if its mere name +did not inspire terror, any fourth-form schoolboy could easily be made +to understand it, and even taught to use it. What we call the soul may +be infinite or infinitesimal, or finite, or it may be the Hegelian +Nothing, which is Pure Being under another name; whatever it is, our +acquaintance with it is not knowledge of it, since whatever we can +find out about it is based on the Criticism exercised by Pure Reason +and not on experience; and the information which Pure Reason gives us +about the soul is not categorical but antinomial; and by the time +medicine gets into these transcendental regions, consciously or +unconsciously, it ceases to be of much practical use in curing +'pernicious anaemia' or any similarly obscure disease. + +All this digression only explains why Angela was a better nurse in +surgical cases than in ordinary illnesses after she had been two years +in training; but that circumstance is connected with what happened to +her later, as will be clear in due time. + +In most respects she changed very little, so far as any one could see. +No one in the convent knew how she hoped against all reason, during +those two years, that Giovanni might yet be heard of, though there was +not the least ground for supposing that he could have escaped when all +the others had perished; and indeed, while she still hoped, she felt +that it was very foolish, and when she had a long talk with Monsignor +Saracinesca before taking the veil, she did not even speak of such a +possibility. + +She had long ago decided that she would take the veil at the +expiration of the two years, but she wished to define her position +clearly to the three persons whom she cared for and respected most. +These were Madame Bernard, Monsignor Saracinesca, and the Mother +Superior, whose three characters were as different as it would have +been possible to pick out amongst the acquaintance of a lifetime. + +Angela asked permission to go with Madame Bernard to the cemetery of +San Lorenzo, where a monument marked the grave of those who had fallen +in the expedition. It was a large square pillar of dark marble, +surmounted by a simple bronze cross. On the four sides there were +bronze tablets, on which were engraved the names of the officers and +men, and that of Giovanni Severi was second, for he had been the +second in command. + +No one was near and Angela knelt down upon the lowest of the three +steps that formed the base. After a moment Madame Bernard knelt beside +her. The novice's eyes were fixed on the bronze tablet and her lips +did not move. Her companion watched her furtively, expecting to see +some sign of profound emotion, or of grief controlled, or at least the +shadow of a quiet sadness. But there was nothing, and after two or +three minutes Angela rose deliberately, went up the remaining steps, +and pressed her lips upon the first letters of Giovanni's name. She +turned and descended the steps with a serene expression, as Madame +Bernard got up from her knees. + +'Death was jealous of me,' Angela said. + +She had never heard of Erinna; she did not know that a maiden poetess +had made almost those very words immortal in one lovely broken line +that has come down to us from five and twenty centuries ago. In the +Everlasting Return they fell again from a maiden's lips, but they +roused no response; Madame Bernard took them for a bit of girlish +sentiment, and scarcely heeded them, while she wondered at Angela's +strangely calm manner. + +They walked back slowly along the straight way between the tombs. + +'I loved him living and I love him dead,' said the young novice +slowly. 'He cannot come back to me, but some day I may go to him.' + +'Yes,' answered Madame Bernard without conviction. + +The next world had always seemed very vague to her; and besides, poor +Giovanni had been a soldier, and she knew something of military men, +and wondered where they went when they died. + +'You are a very good woman,' Angela continued, following her own train +of thought; 'do you think it is wrong for a nun to love a dead man?' + +'Dear me!' exclaimed the little Frenchwoman in some surprise. 'How can +one love a man who is dead? It is impossible; consequently it is not +wrong!' + +Angela looked at her quickly and then walked on. + +'There is no such thing as death,' she said. + +It was Filmore Durand's odd speech that had come back to her often +during two years; when she repeated it to herself she saw his portrait +of Giovanni, which still hung in Madame Bernard's sitting-room, and +presently it was not a picture seen in memory, but Giovanni himself. + +Madame Bernard shrugged her shoulders and smiled vaguely. + +'Death is a fact,' she said prosaically. 'It is the reason why we +cannot live for ever!' + +The reason was not convincing to Angela, but as she saw no chance of +being understood, she went back to the starting-point. + +'Then you do not think it can possibly be wrong for a nun to love some +one who is dead?' she asked, her tone turning the statement into a +question. + +'Of course not!' cried the governess almost impatiently. 'You might as +well think yourself in love with his tombstone and then fancy it a +sin!' + +So one of Angela's three friends had answered her question very +definitely. The answer was not worthless, because Madame Bernard was a +very honest, matter-of-fact woman; on the contrary, it represented a +practical opinion, and that is always worth having, though the view it +defines may be limited. Angela did not try to explain further what she +had meant, and Madame Bernard always avoided subjects she could not +understand. The two chatted pleasantly about other things as they +returned to the convent, and the little Frenchwoman trotted +contentedly back to her lodgings, feeling that the person she loved +best in the world was certain to turn out a very good and happy nun. + +Angela was not yet so sure of this, and she took the first opportunity +of consulting Monsignor Saracinesca. They sat and talked together on +one of the stone seats in the cloistered garden. He is a tall, thin +man, with a thoughtful face and a quiet manner. In his youth he was +once entangled in the quarrels of a Sicilian family, as I have +narrated elsewhere, and behaved with great heroism. After that, he +laboured for many years as a simple parish priest in a fever-plagued +district, and he only consented to return to Rome when he realised +that his health was gravely impaired. + +Angela put her question with her usual directness and watched his +face. He knew her story, so that there was nothing to explain. + +'Is it wrong to love him still?' she asked. + +But Monsignor Ippolito did not speak until his silence had lasted so +long that Angela was a little frightened; not that he had any real +doubt as to her intention, but because it was his duty to examine such +a case of conscience in all its aspects. + +'What does your own instinct tell you?' he asked at last. + +'That it will not be wrong,' Angela answered with conviction. 'But I +may be mistaken. That is why I come to you for advice.' + +Again the churchman mused in silence for a while. + +'I will tell you what I think,' he said, when he had made up his mind. +'There is a condition, which depends only on yourself, and of which +you are the only judge. You ask my advice, but I can only show you how +to ask it of your own heart. If your love for the man who is gone +looks forward, prays and hopes, it will help you; if it looks back +with tears for what might have been and with longing for what can +never be, it will hinder you. More than that I cannot say.' + +'I look forward,' Angela answered confidently. 'I pray and I hope.' + +'If you are sure of that, you are safe,' said Monsignor Saracinesca. +'No one but yourself can know.' + +'I began to work here hoping and praying that if I could do any good +at all it might help him, wherever he is,' Angela went on. 'That is +the only vocation I ever felt, and now I wish to take the veil because +I think that as a professed nun I may be able to use better what +little I have learned in two years and a half than if I stay on as a +lay sister. It is not for myself, except in so far as I know that the +only way to help him is to do my best here. As I hope that God may be +merciful to him, so I hope that God will accept my work, my prayers, +and my faith.' + +The prelate looked at the delicate face and earnest eyes, and the +quietly spoken words satisfied him and a little more. There could be +nothing earthly in such love as that, he was sure, and such simple +faith would not be disappointed. It was not the first time in his +experience as a priest that he had known and talked with a woman from +whom sudden death had wrenched the man she loved, or whom inevitable +circumstances had divided from him beyond all hope of reunion; but he +had never heard one speak just as Angela spoke, nor seen that look in +another face. He was convinced, and felt that he could say nothing +against her intention. + +But she herself was not absolutely sure even then, and she went to the +Mother Superior that evening to ask her question for the last time. +The Mother was seated at her writing-table, and one strong electric +lamp shed its vivid light from under a perfectly dark shade upon the +papers that lay under her hand and scattered before her--bills, +household accounts, doctors' and nurses' reports, opened telegrams, +humble-looking letters written on ruled paper and smart notes in +fashionable handwritings. People who imagine that the Mother Superior +of a nursing order which has branches in many parts of the world +spends her time in meditation and prayer are much mistaken. + +'Sit down,' said the small white volcano, without looking up or +lifting her thin forefinger from the column of figures she was +checking. + +The room would have been very dark but for the light which the white +paper reflected upwards upon the nun's whiter face, and into the dark +air. Angela sat down at a distance as she was bidden, and waited some +minutes, till the Mother Superior had set her initials at the foot of +the sheet with a blue pencil, and raised her face to peer into the +gloom. + +'Who is it?' she asked in a businesslike tone, still dazzled by the +light. + +'I am Angela, Mother. May I ask you a question?' + +'Yes.' + +The voice had changed even in that single word, and was kind and +encouraging. + +'Two years ago, before I became a novice, you asked me why I wanted to +be a nun, Mother. You thought my intention was good. Now that there is +still time before I make my profession, I have come to ask you once +again what you think.' + +'So far as I know, I think you can be a good nun,' answered the Mother +Superior without waiting to hear more, for she never wasted time if +she could possibly help it. + +Angela understood her and told her story quickly and clearly, without +a quiver or an inflection of pain in her voice. It was necessary, for +the Mother did not know it all, and listened with concentrated +attention. But before it was ended she had made up her mind what to +say. + +'My dear child,' said she, 'I am not your confessor! And besides, I am +prejudiced, for you are a good nurse and I need you and wish you to +stay. Do you feel that there is any reason why you should be less +conscientious than you have been so far, if you promise to go on +working with us as long as you live?' + +'No,' Angela answered. + +'Or that there is any reason why you should have less faith in God, +less hope of heaven, or less charity towards your fellow-creatures if +you promise to give your whole life to God, in nursing those who +suffer, with the hope of salvation hereafter?' + +'No, I do not feel that there can be any reason.' + +'Then do not torment yourself with any more questions, for life is too +short! To throw away time is to waste good, and save evil. Believe +always, and then work with all your might! Work, work, work! Work done +for God's sake is prayer to God, and a thousand hours on your knees +are not worth as much as one night spent in helping a man to live--or +to die--when you are so tired that you can hardly stand, and every bone +in your body aches, and you are half-starved too! Work for every one +who needs help, spare every one but yourself, think of every one +before yourself. It is easy to do less than your best, it is +impossible to do more, and yet you must try to do more, always more, +till the end! That should be a nun's life.' + +The Mother Superior had led that life till it was little less than a +miracle that she was still alive herself, and altogether a wonder that +her fiery energy had not eaten up the small frail earthly part of her +long ago. + +'But it must not be for the sake of the end,' she went on, before +Angela could speak, 'else you will be working only for the hope of +rest, and you will try to kill yourself with work, to rest the sooner! +You must think of what you are doing because it is for others, not for +what it will bring you by and by, God willing. Pray to live long and +to do much more before you die, if it be good; for there is no end of +the sickness and suffering and pain in this world; but few are willing +to help, and fewer still know how!' + +She was silent, but her eyes were speaking still as Angela saw them +looking at her over the shaded light, her pale features illuminated +only by the soft reflection from the paper on the table. + +The young girl felt a deep and affectionate admiration for her, and +resolved never to forget the brave words, but to treasure them with +those others spoken two years ago: 'Count your failures but not your +successes.' + +She rose to take her leave, and, standing before the writing-table, +with each hand hidden in the opposite sleeve, she bent her head +respectfully. + +'Thank you, Mother,' she said. + +The nun nodded gravely, still looking at her, but said nothing more, +and Angela left the room, shutting the door without noise. The Mother +Superior did not go back to her accounts at once, though her hand +mechanically drew the next sheet from the pile, so that it lay ready +before her. She was thinking of her own beginnings, more than twenty +years ago, and comparing her own ardent nature with what she knew of +Angela's: and then, out of her great experience of character, a doubt +arose and troubled her strangely, though she opposed it as if it had +been a temptation to injustice, or at least to ungenerous thinking. It +was a suspicion that such marvellous calm as this novice showed could +not be all real; that there was something not quite explicable about +her perfect submission, humility, and obedience; that under the +saintly exterior a fire might be smouldering which would break out +irresistibly some day, and not for good. + +The woman who had been tried doubted the untried novice. Perhaps it +was nothing more than that, and natural enough; but it was very +disturbing, because she also felt herself strongly attached to Angela, +and to suspect her seemed not only unfair, but disloyal. Yet it was +the bounden duty of the Mother to study the characters of all who +lived under her authority and direction, and to forestall their +possible shortcomings by a warning, an admonition, or an encouraging +word, as the case might be. + +She had done what she could, but she was dissatisfied with herself; +and at the very moment when Angela was inwardly repeating her stirring +words and committing them to memory for her lifetime, the woman who +had spoken them was tormented by the thought that she had not said +half enough, or still worse, that she had perhaps made a mistake +altogether. For the first time since she had fought her first great +battle with herself, she had the sensation of being near a mysterious +force of nature which she did not understand; but she had been twenty +years younger then, and the present issue was not to depend on her own +strength but on another's, and it involved the salvation of another's +soul. + +It was long before she bent over the columns of figures again, yet she +did not reproach herself with having wasted time. The first of all her +many duties, and the most arduous, was to think for others; to work +for them was a hundred times easier and was rest and refreshment by +contrast. + +Angela would have been very much surprised if she could have known +what was passing in the Mother Superior's mind, while she herself felt +nothing but relief and satisfaction because her decision had now +become irrevocable. If she had been bidden to wait another year, she +would have waited patiently and without a murmur, because she could +not be satisfied with anything less than apparent certainty; but +instead, she had been encouraged to take the final step, after which +there could be no return. + +That was the inevitable. Human destiny is most tragic when the men and +women concerned are doing their very utmost to act bravely and +uprightly, while each is in reality bringing calamity on the other. + +Acting on the only evidence she had a right to trust, the Mother +Superior knew that she would not be justified in hindering Angela from +taking the veil. Few had ever done so well in the noviciate, none had +ever done better, and her natural talent for the profession of nursing +was altogether unusual. There had never been one like her in the +hospital. As for her character, she seemed to have no vanity, no +jealousy, no temper, no moodiness. The Mother had never known such an +even and well-balanced disposition as hers. Would it have been wise to +keep her back longer, because she seemed too perfect? Would it have been +just? Would it not, indeed, have been very wrong to risk discouraging +her, now that she was quite ready? She was almost twenty-one years old +and had taken no step hastily. More than two years and a half had passed +since she had entered the convent, and in all that time no one had been +able to detect the smallest fault in her, either of weakness or of +hastiness, still less of anything like the pride she might actually have +felt in her superiority. To keep her back now would be to accuse +perfection of being imperfect; it would be as irrational as to call +excellence a failing. More than that, it would have a bad effect on the +whole community, a danger which could not be overlooked. + +Three years later, the Mother understood the warning doubt that had +assailed her; and when a precious life was in the balance she put +herself on trial before her judging conscience and the witness of her +memory. But though the judge was severe and the testimony unerring, +they acquitted her of all blame, and told her that she had acted for +the best, according to her light, on that memorable evening. + +Within less than a month Angela took the veil in the convent church, +and thenceforth she was Sister Giovanna, for that was the name she +chose. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Five years after Giovanni Severi had left Rome to join the ill-fated +expedition in Africa, his brother Ugo obtained his captaincy and at +the same time was placed in charge of the powder magazine at +Monteverde, which Sister Giovanna could see in the distance from her +latticed window. The post was of considerable importance, but was not +coveted because it required the officer who held it to live at a +considerable distance from the city, with no means of getting into +town which he could not provide for himself; for there is no tramway +leading down the right bank of the Tiber. The magazine was actually +guarded by a small detachment of artillery under two subalterns who +took the night duty by turns, and both officers and men were relieved +at regular intervals by others; but the captain in command held his +post permanently and lived in a little house by himself, a stone's +throw from the gate of the large walled enclosure in which the low +buildings stood. For some time it had been intended to build a small +residence for the officer in charge, but this had not been begun at +the date from which I now take up my story. + +The neighbourhood is a lonely one, but there are farm-houses scattered +about at varying distances from the high-road which follows the river, +mostly in the neighbourhood of the hill that bears the name of +Monteverde and seems to have been the site of a villa in which Julius +Cęsar entertained Cleopatra. + +As every one will understand, Ugo Severi's duties consisted in keeping +an account of the ammunition and explosives deposited in the vaults of +the magazine and in exercising the utmost vigilance against fire and +other accidents. The rule against smoking, for instance, did not apply +outside the enclosure, but Ugo gave up cigarettes, even in his own +house, as soon as he was appointed to the post, and took care that +every one should know that he had done so. + +He was a hard-working, hard-reading, rather melancholic man who had +never cared much for society and preferred solitude to a club; a fair +man, with the face of a student and not over robust, but nevertheless +energetic and determined where his duty was concerned. He lived alone +in the little house, with his orderly, a clever Sicilian, who cooked +for him; a peasant woman from a neighbouring farm-house came every +morning to sweep the rooms, make the two beds, and scrub the two stone +steps before the door and clean the kitchen. + +The house was like hundreds of other little houses in the Campagna. On +the ground floor there was a cross-vaulted hall where the Captain +transacted business and received the reports of the watch; there was a +tiny kitchen also, a stable at the back for two horses, and a narrow +chamber adjoining it, in which Pica, the orderly, slept. Upstairs +there was only one story, consisting of a large room with a loggia +looking across the river towards San Paolo, a bedroom of moderate +dimensions, and a dressing-room. + +The place was more luxuriously furnished than might have been +expected, for though Captain Ugo was not a rich man, he was by no +means dependent on his pay. General Severi had lived to retrieve a +part of his fortune, and had died rather suddenly of heart-failure +after a bad attack of influenza, leaving his property to be divided +equally between his two surviving sons and their sister. The latter +had married away from Rome, and Ugo's younger brother was in the navy, +so that he was now the only member of his family left in Rome. + +He was a man of taste and reading, who had entered the army to please +his father and would have left it on the latter's death if he had not +been persuaded by his superiors that he had a brilliant career before +him and might be a general at fifty, if he stuck to the service. He +had answered that he would do so if he might have some post of trust +in which he would have time for study; the command of the magazine at +Monteverde was vacant just then, and as no more influential person +wanted to live in such a dull place, he got it. + +Yet his house was not much more than a mile from the gate, by a good +high-road; whence it is clear that his solitude was a matter of choice +and not of necessity. He had few friends, however, and none who showed +any inclination to come and see him, though his acquaintances were +numerous; for he had been rather popular in society when a young +subaltern, and had been welcome wherever his elder brother Giovanni +took him. + +Giovanni had been very reticent about his affairs, even with his own +family, and during that last winter in Rome, when he had fallen in +love with Angela Chiaromonte, Ugo had been stationed in Pavia and had +known nothing of the affair. Ugo had a vague recollection that +Giovanni was supposed to have been unduly devoted to the gay Marchesa +del Prato when he had been a mere stripling of a sub-lieutenant, fresh +from the Military Academy and barely twenty, though the Marchesa had +been well over thirty, even then. Ugo had been introduced to her long +afterwards, when she was the Princess Chiaromonte, and she had shown +that she liked him, and had asked him to a dance, to which he had not +gone simply because he had given up dancing. + +The Princess, however, had misunderstood his reason for not accepting +her invitation and had supposed that he kept away because he had known +Angela's story and resented, for his brother's sake, the treatment the +girl had received. In an hour of idleness, it now occurred to her that +she might find out whether she had been mistaken in this. + +For some one had spoken of Giovanni on the previous evening, in +connection with a report that had lately reached Rome to the effect +that an Italian officer, hitherto supposed to have been among the dead +after the battle of Dogali, had been heard of and was living in +slavery somewhere in the interior of Africa. A newspaper had made a +good story of the matter, out of next to nothing, and it had been a +subject of conversation during two or three days. The lady who told it +to the Princess Chiaromonte had been one of her most assiduous and +intimate enemies for years, and, in order to make her uncomfortable, +advanced the theory that the officer in question was no other than +Giovanni Severi himself. + +The Princess was not so easily disturbed, however, and smiled in her +designing friend's face. The poor man was dead and buried, she said, and +every one knew it. The report rested on nothing more substantial than a +letter said to have been written by an English traveller and lion-hunter +to one of the secretaries at the British Embassy in Washington, who was +said, again, to have mentioned the fact to an Italian colleague, who had +repeated it in writing to his sister, who lived somewhere in Piedmont +and had spoken of it to some one else; and so on, till the story had +reached the ears of a newspaper paragraph-writer who was hard up for a +'stick' of 'copy.' All this the Princess knew, or invented, and she ran +off her explanation with a fluency that disconcerted her assailant. + +The immediate result was that she bethought her of Ugo Severi, whom +she had passed lately in her motor as he was riding leisurely along +the road beyond Monteverde. She had noticed him because her chauffeur +had slackened speed a little, and she had nodded to him, though it was +not likely that he should recognise her face through her veil. She had +thought no more about him at the time, but she now telephoned to a +friend at headquarters to find out where he was living, and she soon +learned that he was in charge of the magazine. + +After a little reflection, she wrote him a note, recalling their +acquaintance and the fact that she had known his poor brother very +well. She had never seen a powder magazine, she said; would he show +the one at Monteverde to her and two or three friends, next Wednesday? + +Ugo answered politely that this was quite impossible without a special +permission from the Commander-in-Chief or the War Office, and that he +greatly regretted his inability to comply with her request. As he was +a punctilious man, though he lived almost like a hermit, he took the +trouble to send his orderly into the city on the following afternoon +with a couple of cards to be left at the Palazzo Chiaromonte for the +Prince and Princess, in accordance with Roman social custom. + +A few days later a smart 'limousine' drew up to the door of Ugo's +little house and a footman rang the old-fashioned bell, which went on +tinkling in the distance for a long time after the rusty chain had +been pulled. Ugo's Sicilian orderly opened the door at last in a +leisurely way and appeared on the threshold in grey linen fatigue +dress; on seeing the car and the Princess he straightened himself and +saluted. + +His master was riding, he said, and would not come home for an hour. +The Princess wrote a message on a card, asking if Ugo would come and +see her any day after five o'clock, and she wrote down the number of +her telephone. She gave the card to the man, and by way of impressing +its importance on him, added that she was a very old friend of the +family and had known the Captain's mother as well as the brother who +had been lost in Africa. She also smiled sweetly, for the Sicilian was +a handsome young man; she had a way of smiling at handsome men when +she was speaking to them, especially if she wished them to remember +what she said. + +When the car was gone, Salvatore Pica, the orderly, shut the door and +went into the hall where the telephone was. He looked at the visiting +card before leaving it on the brass salver on the table, where letters +and reports were placed for the Captain whenever he was out; and being +an intelligent man and considerably impressed by what the Princess had +told him, he promptly wrote the name, address, and telephone number in +the address-book which hung by a string beside the instrument. For Ugo +never telephoned himself if he could help it, and was careless about +addresses, which it was Pica's business to copy and have at hand when +needed. + +Moreover, the Princess had represented herself as being a very old +friend of the Captain's family, and Pica mentally noted the fact, +because he had often wondered that his master should apparently have +no intimate friends at all, though he was evidently respected and +liked by his brother-officers. + +When Ugo came home and dismounted at the door, Pica at once told him +of the Princess's visit, repeating her message without a mistake, and +adding that he had copied her name and address in the telephone-book. +The Captain nodded gravely and looked at the card before he went +upstairs, but said nothing to his man. Being very careful and +punctilious in such matters, as I have said, he wrote a line that +evening, thanking the Princess for her kind invitation and saying that +he hoped to avail himself of it some day, but that he was very busy +just at present. This was true, in a sense, for he had just received +an important new book in two thick volumes, which he was anxious to +read without delay. The fact that it was an exhaustive history of +Confucianism, and could not be considered as bearing on his +professional duties, was not likely to interest the Princess. + +She was not used to such rebuffs, however, and before long she made +another attempt. This time she herself called up Pica and asked him at +what hour the Captain could see her on a matter of importance. When +the orderly delivered the message, Severi was at first inclined to +make an excuse; but the Princess's persistency in trying to see him +was obvious, and as he thought it possible that she might wish to ask +him some question relating to Giovanni, he bade Pica answer that he +would stay at home that afternoon, if it suited her convenience to +come. She replied that she would appear about four o'clock. + +Ugo was buried in the history of Confucianism when his man came to +tell him this, and he merely nodded, but looked up quickly when Pica +turned to the door. + +'Shave and dress,' he said laconically, and at once began to read +again. + +It was the order he gave when he expected the visit of a superior +officer, for as a rule Pica only shaved twice a week, and never put on +a cloth tunic except when he had leave for the afternoon and evening. +The little house at Monteverde was a lonely place and the soldier did +no military duty, living the life of an ordinary house servant. It was +a good place, for the Captain was generous. + +With an affectation of extreme punctuality, the Princess's footman +rang the bell at four o'clock precisely, and almost before the distant +tinkle was heard Pica opened the door wide and saluted the visitor, +flattening himself against the door-post to give her plenty of room. +He looked very smart in his best uniform, and she smiled and glanced +at his handsome Saracen face as she passed in. He shut the door at +once, leaving the footman outside. + +At the same moment Captain Severi was descending the short flight of +stone steps to meet her. He was not very like Giovanni, but in the +half-light the Princess saw a resemblance that made her start. Ugo was +less energetically built, but he wore his uniform well and there was +much in his gait and the outline of his figure that recalled his +brother. + +The Princess took his hand almost affectionately and held it in +silence for a moment while she looked into his mild blue eyes. Pica +noticed her manner, which certainly confirmed what she had said about +being a friend of the family. + +The mere suggestion of a delicate and exotic perfume had floated into +the house with her. At first it faintly recalled Indian river grass, +but presently Ugo thought it reminded him of muscatel grapes, and then +again of dried rose leaves and violets. She smiled as she withdrew her +hand, and spoke. + +'You did not guess that a woman could be so persistent, did you?' + +Ugo also smiled, but without cordiality, and then led the way +upstairs. On reaching the large room, the Princess looked about her, +judged the man, and at once expressed her admiration for his good +sense in leading a student's life, instead of squandering his time in +the futilities of society. + +The Captain did not ask her what she wanted of him, but offered to +make tea for her, and she saw that a little table had been set for the +purpose. Everything was very simple, but looked so serviceable that +she accepted, judging that she ran no risk of being poisoned. In Italy +it is only society that drinks tea. It was a little early for it, but +that did not matter. The water was boiling in a small copper kettle +shaped like a flat sponge-cake, the tea-caddy was Japanese, and the +teapot was of plain brown earthenware, but the two cups were of rare +old Capodimonte and the spoons were evidently English. She noticed +also that the sugar was of the 'crystallised' kind, and was in a +curiously chiselled silver bowl. The Princess had a good eye for +details. + +'You seem to have made yourself very comfortable in your remote little +house,' she laughed, with approval. + +'I only hope that you may be, as long as you please to stay,' he +answered, making the tea scientifically. + +It was very good, and she chatted idly while she slowly drank it and +nibbled a thin, crisp biscuit. When she had finished he took her cup +and offered to refill it, but she declined and leaned back comfortably +in the big red leather easy-chair. + +'I daresay you heard that story about an officer who is reported to be +living in slavery in Africa?' she said, her tone changing and becoming +very grave. + +Ugo had read of it in the newspapers. + +'Did it occur to you, as it did to me, that he might be Giovanni?' she +asked. + +It had occurred to him and he had made inquiries at the War Office, +but had been told that the story had no foundation. He had expected no +other answer. The Princess was silent for a moment. + +'One grasps at straws,' she said presently, in a low voice. + +He understood that she had really cared for his brother, and looked at +her with more interest than he had hitherto shown. + +'I am afraid that there is not the slightest possibility of his being +alive,' he said, with a sadness in which there was also some sympathy +for her. + +She had hoped for an indiscreet question, which would allow her to say +something more. It was of no real importance to her to know whether he +bore her any grudge or not, but since she had taken so much trouble to +see him she did not mean to go away without knowing the truth, and +though her curiosity was a mere caprice, it was perhaps not a very +unreasonable one. + +'Had you seen much of him during the last months before he went to +Africa?' she asked. 'I did not know you till long after that, you +know. I think you were always away?' + +'I was stationed in Pavia,' the Captain answered. 'Giovanni joined the +expedition at short notice and I was not able to see him before he +started. I have always regretted it, for we had not met for eighteen +months.' + +'You were never very intimate, I suppose?' suggested the Princess. + +'We were always very good friends, but after he was appointed to the +Staff we saw little of each other.' + +The Princess mused in silence for a few moments. + +'I was very fond of him,' she said at last. 'Did he ever talk about me +to you?' + +'No,' Ugo answered. 'Not that I can remember.' + +Their eyes met and she saw that he was telling the truth, as, in fact, +he always did. + +'I suppose you have heard that he was in love with my poor niece, who +went into a convent after he was lost?' she said tentatively, and +watching his face. + +'Indeed?' He showed more interest. 'I never heard of that. Were they +engaged to be married?' + +'No. At least, there was no formal engagement. My brother-in-law was +killed in a motor accident just at that time. Then Giovanni went to +Massowah, and you know the rest. But they were very much in love with +each other, and Angela was broken-hearted.' + +She now knew what she had come to find out, and she did not care to +rouse his curiosity as to her own share in the story, since no gossip +had taken the trouble to enlighten him. + +'Has she taken permanent vows?' he asked. + +'Yes. Three years ago, and now it is said that she means to go out to +the Rangoon Leper Hospital. I daresay you have heard that a good many +nuns do that. It is almost certain death and we all feel very badly +about Angela.' + +'Poor girl!' exclaimed Ugo. 'She must have cared for him so much that +she is tired of living. Very few of those Sisters ever come back, I +believe.' + +'None,' said the Princess Chiaromonte in a tone that would certainly +have arrested his attention if he had known everything. 'It is the +saddest thing in the world,' she went on quickly, fearing that her +hatred had betrayed itself. 'To think that year after year those good +women voluntarily go to certain death! And not even to save life, for +lepers cannot be cured, you know. The most that can be done is to +alleviate their suffering!' + +She said this very well, though the words were hackneyed. + +'It is heroic,' said Captain Ugo quietly. + +She stayed some time longer, and he showed her the finest of his books +and a number of old engravings and etchings; and these really +impressed her because she knew something of their current value, which +was her only standard in judging works of art. At last she showed that +she was thinking of going. Women of the world generally give warning +of their approaching departure, as an ocean steamer blows its horn at +intervals before it starts. The Princess's voice was suddenly +colourless and what she said became more and more general, till she +observed that it was really a lovely day. She looked down at her skirt +critically and then glanced quickly at the walls, one after another. +When you do not know what a woman is looking for in an unfamiliar +drawing-room, it is a mirror to see whether her hat is straight. The +Princess saw none and rose gracefully out of the deep easy-chair. + +'It has been such a great pleasure to see you!' she said, the +cordiality returning to her tone as soon as she was on her feet. + +'I am very much obliged for your visit,' Ugo answered politely, +because nothing else occurred to him to say, and he clapped his heels +together with a jingle of his spurs as he took her proffered hand. + +He was neither shy nor dull of comprehension where women were +concerned, and he understood quite well that she had not come with the +intention of making an impression on him, nor out of mere curiosity to +see what Giovanni's brother was like. He knew what her reputation had +been, but he did not know whether she had retired from the lists at +last or still kept the field; and he cared very little, though he had +sometimes reflected that whereas Balzac had written of the Woman of +Thirty, the 'woman of forty' was still to be studied by a clever +novelist; unless, indeed, Sophocles had made an end of her for ever +when Jocasta hanged herself. One thing, however, was clear: the +Princess had not sought him out with any idea of casting upon him the +spell of a flirtation to make him a sort of posthumous substitute for +his brother. She had faced the light boldly several times in the +course of her visit, so that he had seen the fine lines of middle age +about her mouth and eyes very distinctly, and she had not made any +attempt to show herself off before him, nor to lead him on with +subdued confidences concerning the human affections as she had known +them. He believed that she had come to find out whether he thought +that Giovanni might possibly be alive or not, and he rather liked her +for what seemed to him her frankness and courage, and was +unconsciously flattered, as the best men may be, by her trusting him +so simply. + +No doubt it might be true that since the world had put up with her +rather reckless behaviour for over fifteen years, her reputation would +not be lost at this late date by her spending an hour at the rooms of +an officer who was quartered out of town. No doubt, too, that same +reputation was a coat of many colours, on which one small stain more +would scarcely show at all, but she had never been in the habit of +risking spots for nothing. Moreover, it is a curious fact that men are +better pleased at being trusted by a clever woman who has had many +adventures than when an angel of virtue places her good name under +their protection: there is less irksome responsibility in playing +confidant to Lady Jezebel than in being guardian to the impeccable +Lucretia. + +If nothing more had happened, the Princess's visit would have had +little or no importance in this story; but as things turned out, the +incident was one of the links in a chain of events which led to a +singularly unexpected and dramatic conclusion, as will before long +clearly appear. + +Fate often behaves like a big old lion, when he opens his sleepy eyes +and catches a first sight of you as he lies alone, far out on the +plain. He lifts his tawny head and gazes at you quietly for several +seconds and then lowers it as if not caring what you do. You creep +nearer, cautiously, noiselessly, and holding your breath, till some +faint noise you make rouses his attention again and he takes another +look at you, longer this time and much less lazy, while you stand +motionless. Nevertheless, you are only a man, and not worth killing; +if he is an old lion, he may have eaten a score like you, white and +black, but he is not hungry just now and wants to sleep. Down goes his +head again, and his eyes shut themselves for another nap. On you go, +stealthily, nearer and nearer, your rifle ready in both hands. But a +dry stalk of grass cracks under your foot, and almost before you can +stand still he is up and glaring at you, his long tufted tail showing +upright against the sky. If you move, even to lift your gun to your +shoulder, he will charge; and sooner or later, move you must. Then, +suddenly, he is bounding forward, by leap after leap, hurling his huge +strength through the air, straight at you, and as the distance lessens +you see his burning eyes with frightful distinctness. Two more such +bounds as the last will do it. Take care, for within ten seconds +either you or he will be dead. There is no other end possible. + +Fate does not always kill, it is true; but you have not that one +chance against her which your weapon gives you against the lion, and +she may maul you badly before she has done with you, even worse than +the biggest cat would. + +It was not Ugo Severi's fate that was waking, and that began to look +towards Monteverde when Princess Chiaromonte paid him a visit. It was +not even the Princess's own. + +When she was gone, he went back to his history of Confucianism, and +Pica got into his grey linen fatigue suit again, and carefully brushed +his smart uniform before folding it and putting it away in the chest. +Then he washed the tea-things, rubbed the two silver spoons with a +special leather he kept for them, and shut up everything in the +cupboard. After that, he opened the front door and sat down on the +brick seat that ran along the front of the house. He would have liked +to smoke a pipe, but Captain Ugo was very particular about that, so he +took out half of a villainous-looking 'napoletano' cigar, bit off +three-quarters of an inch of it, and returned the small remainder to +his pocket; and after a few minutes he concluded, as usual, that a +chew was far cheaper than a smoke and lasted much longer. + +As the sun sank he looked across the yellow river towards Saint +Paul's, and because he had been bred in sight of the sea it struck him +that the distant belfry tower was very like a lighthouse, and he +smiled at the thought, which has occurred to men of more cultivation +than he had. + +His eyes wandered to his left, and the sunset glow was on the low city +walls, not a mile away, reddening the upper story of an ancient +convent beyond. His sharp eyes counted the windows mechanically, and +one of them belonged to the cell of Sister Giovanna, the Dominican +nun, though he did not know it; and much less did he guess that before +very long he himself, and his master, and the fine lady who had come +in a motor that afternoon, were all to play their parts in the nun's +life. If he had known that, he would have tried to guess which window +was hers. + +The first bitter tang of the vile tobacco was gone out of it, and Pica +thoughtfully rolled the quid over his tongue to the other side of his +mouth. At that moment he was aware of a man in a little brown hat and +shabby clothes who must have come round the house very quietly, from +the direction of the magazine, for he was already standing still near +the corner, looking at him. + +'What do you want?' Pica asked rather sharply. + +The man looked like a bad character, but raised his hat as he answered +with a North Italian accent. + +'I am a stranger,' he said. 'Can you tell me how to reach the nearest +gate?' + +'There is the road,' the soldier replied, pointing to it, 'and there +is Rome, and the nearest gate is Porta Portese.' + +'Thank you,' the man said, and went on his way. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +During the month of December the Princess Chiaromonte fell ill, much +to her own surprise and that of her children, for such a thing had +never happened to her since she had been a mere child and had caught +the measles; but there was no mistaking the fact that she now had a +bad attack of the influenza, with high fever, and her head felt very +light. During the first two days, she altogether refused to stay in +her room, which made matters worse; but on the third morning she +yielded and stayed in bed, very miserable and furiously angry with +herself. It had always been her favourite boast that she never caught +cold, never had a headache, and never broke down from fatigue; and +considering the exceedingly gay life she had led she certainly had +some cause to be vain of her health. + +Her eldest daughter and her maid took care of her that day, and her +maid sat up with her during the following night, after which it became +quite clear that she must have a professional nurse. The doctor +insisted upon it, though the Princess herself flew into a helpless +rage at the mere suggestion; and then, all at once, and before the +doctor had left the room, she began to talk quite quietly about +ordering baby frocks and a perambulator, though her youngest boy was +already twelve years old and went to school at the Istituto Massimo. +The doctor and the maid looked at each other. + +'I will telephone for one of the White Sisters,' the doctor said. +'They are the ones I am used to and I know the Mother Superior.' + +It happened that the nurses of Santa Giovanna were much in demand at +that time, for there was an epidemic of influenza in the city, and as +they were almost all both ladies and Italians, society people +preferred them to those of other orders. Three-quarters of an hour +after the doctor had telephoned, one of them appeared at the Palazzo +Chiaromonte, a rather stout, grave woman of forty or more, who knew +her business. + +She at once said, however, that she had come on emergency, but could +not stay later than the evening, when another Sister would replace +her; it would be her turn on the next morning to begin her week as +supervising nun in the Convent hospital, a duty taken in rotation by +three of the most experienced nuns, and it was absolutely necessary +that she should have her night's rest before taking charge of the +wards. + +The Princess had fallen into a state of semi-consciousness which was +neither sleep nor stupor, but partook of both, and her face was +scarlet from the fever. Two or three times in the course of the +afternoon, however, she was evidently aware of the nurse's presence, +and she submitted without resistance to all that was done for her. The +maid, who had been in the sick-room all night and all the morning, was +now asleep, and the doctor had advised that the children should be +kept away from their mother altogether. When the doctor came again, +about six o'clock, the nun explained her own position to him, and +begged him to communicate with the Convent before leaving the palace, +as the Princess should certainly not be left without proper care, even +for an hour. He did what she asked, and the answer came back in the +Mother Superior's own voice. She said that she was very short of +nurses, and that it would be extremely inconvenient to send one, and +she therefore begged of him to get a Sister from another order. + +He replied very crossly that he would do nothing of the sort, that he +believed in the White Sisters and meant to have a White Sister, and +that a White Sister must come, and a good one; and that if it was only +a matter of inconvenience, it was better that the Convent should be +inconvenienced for him than that he should be disappointed; and he +added so much more to the same effect, with so many emphatic +repetitions, that the Mother Superior promised to break all rules and +come herself within an hour if no other Sister were available. For she +had a very high regard for him, in spite of his rough tone and harsh +voice. + +Her difficulty was a very simple one. The only nurse who was free that +evening was Sister Giovanna, who had returned just before mid-day from +a case that had ended badly, and she had been asleep ever since. But +the Mother Superior knew how the Princess had treated her niece and +robbed her of her fortune, and she could not foresee what might happen +if the young nun took charge of the case. After giving her somewhat +rash promise to the doctor, she sent for her, therefore, and explained +matters. + +'I do not think that my aunt will recognise me,' said Sister Giovanna. +'She has never set eyes on me since I was a girl of eighteen in deep +mourning. Our dress changes us very much, and I must have changed, +too, in five years. Even my voice is not the same, I fancy.' + +The Mother Superior looked at her keenly. She was very fond of her, +but it had never occurred to her to consider whether the young +Sister's appearance had altered or not. Yet her own memory for faces +was good, and when she recalled the features of the slim, fair-haired +girl in black whom she had first seen, and compared the recollection +with the grave and almost saintly face before her, closely confined by +the white wimple and gorget, and the white veil that bound the +forehead low above the serious brow, she really did not believe that +any one could easily recognise the Angela of other days. + +'I suppose I never realise how changed we all are,' she said +thoughtfully. 'But do you not think the Princess Chiaromonte may +remember you when she hears your name?' + +'Many Sisters have taken it,' Sister Giovanna answered. 'And, after +all, what harm can there be? If she recognises me and is angry, she +can only send me away, and meanwhile she will be taken care of, at +least for the night. That is the main thing, Mother, and one of the +Sisters will surely be free to-morrow morning.' + +So the matter was settled. Sister Giovanna got her well-worn little +black bag, her breviary, and her long black cloak, and in half-an-hour +she was ascending the grand staircase of the palace in which she had +lived as a child. + +She felt more emotion than she had expected, but no sign betrayed that +she was moved, nor showed the servant who led her through the +apartments and passages that she was familiar with every turn. Though +she went through the great hall and her feet trod upon the very spot +where the dead Knight of Malta had lain in state, not a sigh escaped +her, nor one quickly-drawn breath. + +She was ushered to the very room that had been her father's, and stood +waiting after the servant had tapped softly at the door. The other nun +came out noiselessly and pulled the door after her without quite +closing it. She explained the case to Sister Giovanna, and said that +the Princess seemed to be asleep again. She probably knew nothing of +any relationship between the patient and Sister Giovanna; but if she +remembered anything of the latter's story, it was not her business to +comment on the circumstance, even mentally. Even in the nursing +orders, where the real names of the Sisters may often be known to +others besides the Mother Superior, the Sisters themselves +scrupulously respect one another's secret, though it may be almost an +open one, and never discuss the identity of a member of their +community. Where nuns are cloistered, actual secrecy is preserved as +far as possible, and though a Sister may sometimes talk to another +about her former life, and especially of her childhood, she never +mentions her family by name, even though she may be aware that the +truth is known. + +Sister Giovanna entered the sick-room alone, as the other nurse seemed +to think that the unexpected sight of two nuns might disturb the +patient. If the Princess noticed the new face, when she next opened +her eyes, she made no remark and showed no surprise; so that Sister +Giovanna felt quite sure of not having been recognised. There was very +little light in the room, too, by the doctor's advice, and a high +screen covered with old Cordova leather stood between the bed and the +table on which the single shaded candle was placed. + +The nun stood beside the pillow and looked long at the face of the +woman who had wronged her so cruelly and shamefully. After a few +seconds she could see her very distinctly in the shadow; the features +were flushed and full, and strangely younger than when she had last +seen them, as often happens with fair people of a certain age at the +beginning of a sharp fever, when the quickened pulse sends the hot +blood to the cheeks and brings back the vivid brilliancy of youth. But +the experienced nurse knew that and was not surprised. After taking +the temperature and doing all she could for the moment, she left the +bedside and sat down to read her breviary by the light on the other +side of the screen. The illness was only an attack of influenza after +all, and she knew how strong her aunt had always been; there was no +cause for anxiety, nor any necessity for sitting constantly within +sight of the patient. Twice an hour she rose, went to the sick woman's +side and gave her medicine, or drink, or merely smoothed the pillow a +little, as the case might be, and then came back to the table. The +Princess was not so restless as most people are in fever, and she did +not try to talk, but took whatever was given her like a model of +resignation. The delirium had left her for the present. + +Reading slowly, and often meditating on what she read, Sister Giovanna +did not finish the office for the day and close her book till nearly +midnight. Her old watch lay on the table beside the candlestick, and +her eyes were on the hands as she waited till it should be exactly +twelve before taking the patient's temperature again. But it still +wanted three minutes of the hour when the Princess's voice broke the +profound silence. The words were spoken quietly, in a far-away tone: + +'I stole it.' + +Sister Giovanna started more nervously than a nurse should, and looked +straight at the screen as if she could see her aunt's face through the +leather. In a few seconds she heard the voice again, and though the +tone was lower, the words were as distinct as if spoken close to her +ear. + +'I hid it on me, and left my little bag behind on purpose because the +footman would be sure to open that, to take my cigarettes. I knew he +often did. It was very clever of me was it not? He will swear that he +went back for the bag and that there were no papers in it.' + +It was not the first time, by many, that Sister Giovanna had heard a +delirious patient tell a shameful secret that had been kept long and +well. She rose with an effort, pressing one hand upon the table. It +was plainly her duty to prevent any further revelations if she could +and to forget what she had heard; for a trained nurse's standard of +honour must be as high as a doctor's, since she is trusted as he is. + +Yet the nun waited a moment before going round the screen, +unconsciously arguing that if the patient did not speak again it would +be better not to disturb her at that moment. To tell the truth, too, +Sister Giovanna had not fully understood the meaning of what her aunt +had said. She stood motionless during the long pause that followed the +last words. + +Then, without warning, the delirious woman began to laugh, vacantly +and foolishly at first, and with short interruptions of silence, but +then more loudly, and by degrees more continuously, till the spasms +grew wild and hysterical, and bad to hear. Sister Giovanna went +quickly to her and at once tried to put a stop to the attack. The +Princess was rolling her head from side to side on the pillows, with +her arms stretched out on each side of her and her white hands clawing +at the broad hem of the sheet with all their strength, as if they must +tear the fine linen to strips, and she was shrieking with +uncontrollable laughter. + +Sister Giovanna bent down and grasped one arm firmly with both hands. + +'Control yourself!' she said in a tone of command. 'Stop laughing at +once!' + +The Princess shrieked again and again. + +'Silence!' cried the nurse in a stern voice, and she shook the arm she +held with a good deal of roughness, for she knew that there was no +other way. + +The delirious woman screamed once more, and then gulped several times +as if she were going to sob; at last she lay quite still for a moment, +gazing up into her nurse's eyes. Then a change came into her face, and +she spoke in a hoarse whisper, and as if frightened. + +'Are you going to refuse me absolution for taking the will?' she +asked. + +The question was so unexpected that Sister Giovanna did not find +anything to say at once, and before any words occurred to her the +Princess was speaking hurriedly and earnestly, but still in a loud +whisper, which occasionally broke into a very low and trembling tone +of voice. + +'I did it for the best. What could that wretched girl have done with +the money, even if the lawyers had proved the will good? Why did not +my brother-in-law get civilly married, instead of leaving his daughter +without so much as a name? There must have been a reason. Perhaps she +was not really his wife's child! It was all his fault, and the will +was not legal and would only have given trouble if I had let them find +it! So I took it away, and burned it in my own room. What harm was +there in that? It saved so many useless complications, and we had a +right to the fortune! The lawyers said so! I cannot see that it was +really a sin at all, Father, indeed I cannot! I have confessed it from +a scruple of conscience, and you will not refuse me absolution! How +can you, when I say I am sorry for it? Yes, yes, I am!' The voice rose +to a low cry. 'Since you say it was a sin I repent, I will--what? You +are not in earnest, Father? Make restitution? Give the whole fortune +to a nun? Oh, no, no! You cannot expect me to do that! Rob my children +of what would have been theirs even if I had not taken the will? It is +out of the question, I tell you! Utterly out of the question! Besides, +it is not mine at all--I have not got a penny of it! It is all my +husband's and I cannot touch it--do you understand?' + +Sister Giovanna had listened in spite of herself. + +'The nun expects nothing and does not want the money,' she said, +bending down. 'Try to rest now, for you are very tired.' + +'Rest?' cried the Princess, starting up in bed and leaning on one +hand. 'How can I rest when it torments me day and night? I come to you +for absolution and you refuse it, and tell me to rest!' + +She broke into a wild laugh again, but Sister Giovanna instantly +seized her arm as she had done before, and spoke in the same +commanding way. + +'Be silent!' she said energetically. + +The delirious woman began to whine. + +'You are so rough, Father--so unkind to-day! What is the matter with +you? You never treated me like this before!' + +She was sobbing the next moment, and real tears trickled through her +fingers as she covered her face with her hands. + +'You see--how--how penitent I am!' she managed to cry in a broken voice. +'Have pity, Father!' + +She was crying bitterly, but though she was out of her mind the nun +could not help feeling that she was acting a part, even in her +delirium, and in spite of the tears that forced themselves through her +hands and ran down, wetting the lace and spotting the scarlet ribbons +of her elaborate nightdress. Sister Giovanna put aside the thought as +a possibly unjust judgment, and tried to quiet her. + +'If you are really sorry for what you did, you will be forgiven,' said +the nun. + +This produced an immediate effect: the sobbing subsided, the tears +ceased to flow, and the Princess repeated the Act of Contrition in a +low voice; then she folded her hands and waited in silence. Sister +Giovanna stood upright beside the pillows, and prayed very earnestly +in her heart that she might forget what she had heard, or at least +bear her aunt no grudge for the irreparable wrong. + +But the delirious woman, who still fancied that her nurse was her +confessor, was waiting for the words of absolution, and after a few +moments, as she did not hear them, she broke out again in senseless +terror, with sobbing and more tears. She grasped the Sister's arms +wildly and dragged herself up till she was on her knees in bed, +imploring and weeping, pleading and sobbing, while she trembled +visibly from head to foot. + +The case was a difficult one, even for an experienced nurse. A lay +woman might have taken upon herself to personate the priest and +pronounce the words of the absolution in the hope of quieting the +patient, but no member of a religious order would do such a thing, +except to save life, and such a case could hardly arise. The Princess +Chiaromonte was in no bodily danger, and the chances were that the +delirium would leave her before long; when it disappeared she would +probably fall asleep, and it was very unlikely that she should +remember anything she had said in her ravings. Meanwhile it was +certainly not good for her to go on crying and throwing herself about, +as she was doing, for the fever was high already and her wild +excitement might increase the temperature still further. + +Sister Giovanna took advantage of a brief interval, when she was +perhaps only taking breath between her lamentations, out of sheer +necessity. + +'You must compose yourself,' the nun said with authority. 'You seem to +forget that you have been ill. Lie down for a little while, and I will +come back presently. In the meantime, I give you my word that your +niece has forgiven you with all her heart.' + +She could say that with a clear conscience, just then, and gently +disengaging herself, she succeeded without much difficulty in making +the Princess lay her head on the pillow, for the words had produced a +certain effect; then, leaving the bedside, she went back to the table. +But she did not sit down, and only remained standing about a minute +before going back to the patient. + +She went round by the opposite side of the screen, however, with the +hope that the Princess, seeing her come from another direction, would +take her for a different person. Very small things sometimes affect +people in delirium, and the little artifice was successful; she came +forward, speaking cheerfully in her ordinary voice, and at once put +her arm under the pillow, propping her aunt's head in order to make +her drink comfortably. There was no resistance now. + +'You are much better already,' she said in an encouraging tone. 'Does +your head ache much?' + +'It feels a little light,' the Princess said, quite naturally, 'but it +does not hurt me now. I think I have been asleep--and dreaming, too.' + +Perhaps some suspicion that she had been raving crossed her unsettled +brain, for she glanced quickly at the nun and then shut her eyes. + +'Yes,' she said, apparently satisfied; 'I have been dreaming.' + +Sister Giovanna only smiled, as sympathetically as she could, and +sitting down by the head of the bed, she stroked the burning forehead +with her cool hand, softly and steadily, for several minutes; and +little by little the Princess sank into a quiet sleep, for she was +exhausted by the effort she had unconsciously made. When she was +breathing regularly, the nun left her side and went noiselessly back +to her seat behind the screen. + +She did not open her breviary again that night. For a long time she +sat quite still, with her hands folded on the edge of the table, +gazing into the furthest corner of the room with unwinking eyes. + +She had said that she forgave her aunt with all her heart, and she had +believed that it was true; but she was less sure now that she could +think of her past life, and of what might have been if she had not +been driven from her home destitute and forced to take refuge with +Madame Bernard. + +In the light of what she had just learned, the past had a very +different look. It was true that she had urged Giovanni to join the +expedition, and had used arguments which had convinced herself as well +as him. But she had made him go because, if he had stayed, he would +have sacrificed his career in the army in order to earn bread for her, +who was penniless. If she had inherited even a part of the fortune +that should have been hers, it never would have occurred to him to +leave the service and go into business for her support; or if it had +crossed his mind, she would have dissuaded him easily enough. So far +as mere money went, he had not wanted or needed it for himself, but +for her; and if she had been rich and had married him, he could not +have been reproached with living on her. To persuade him, she had +urged that his honour required him to accept a post of danger instead +of resigning from the army as soon as it was offered to him, and this +had been true to some extent; but if there had been no question of his +leaving the service, she would have found him plenty of satisfactory +reasons for not going to Africa, and he had not been the kind of man +whom gossips care to call a coward. Reasons? She would have invented +twenty in those days, when she was not a nun, but just a loving girl +with all her womanhood before her! + +If her aunt had not stolen the will and robbed her, she would have +hindered Giovanni from leaving Italy, and she would have married him, +that was the plain truth. He would have been alive now, in his youth +and his strength and his love for her, instead of having perished in +the African desert. That was the thought that tormented the guilty +woman, too: it was the certainty that her crime had indirectly sent +him to his death. So thought Sister Giovanna as she sat staring into +the dark corner through the hours of the night, and she wondered how +she had been able to say that she forgave, or had dared to hope that +she could forget. If it had been only for herself, it might have been +quite different; but her imagination had too often unwillingly +pictured the tragic death of the man she had loved so well to forgive +the woman who had caused it, now that she had revealed herself at +last. + +So long as Angela had believed that her father had left no will, +because he had been in ignorance of the law, she had been able to tell +herself that her great misfortune had been inevitable; but since it +turned out that he had provided for her and had done his duty by her, +according to his light, the element of inevitable fate disappeared, +and the awful conviction that Giovanni's life had been wantonly +sacrificed to enrich Princess Chiaromonte and her children forced +itself upon her intelligence and would not be thrust out. + +It seemed to Sister Giovanna that this was the first real temptation +that had assailed her since she had taken her vows, the first moment +of active regret for what might have been, as distinguished from that +heartfelt sorrow for the man who had perished which had not been +incompatible with a religious life. Recalling the Mother Superior's +words of warning, she recorded her failure, as the first of its kind, +and prayed that it might not be irretrievable, and that resentment and +regret might ebb away and leave her again as she had been before the +unforgettable voice had pierced her ears with the truth she had never +guessed. + +It was a great effort now to go to the bedside and do what must be +done for the sick woman--to smooth the pillow for the head that had +thought such thoughts and to stroke the hand that had done such a +deed. She was tempted to take the little black bag and leave the house +quietly, before any one was up. That was not a very dreadful thought, +of course, but it seemed terrible to her, whose first duty in life was +to help sufferers and soothe those who were in pain. It seemed to her +almost as bad as if a soldier in battle were suddenly tempted to turn +his back on his comrades, throw down his rifle, and run away. + +She felt it each time that she had to rise and go round the screen, +and when she saw the flushed face on the pillow in the shadow, the +longing to be gone was almost greater than she could resist. She had +not understood before what it meant to loathe any living thing, but +she knew it now, and if she did her duty conscientiously that night, +easy and simple though it was, she deserved more credit than many of +the Sisters who had gone so bravely to nurse the lepers in far +Rangoon. + +She did not feel the smallest wish to hurt the woman who had injured +her, let that be said in her praise; for though vengeance be the +Lord's, to long for it is human. She only desired to be out of the +house, and out of sight of the face that lay where her father's had +lain, and beyond reach of the voice that had told her what she wished +she had never known. + +But there was no escape and she had to bear it; and when the night +wore away at last, it had been the longest she remembered in all her +life. Her face was as white as the Mother Superior's and her dark blue +eyes looked almost black; even Madame Bernard would not have +recognised the bright-haired Angela of other days in the weary and +sad-faced nun who met the doctor outside the door of the sick-room +when he came at eight o'clock. + +She told him that the patient had been delirious about midnight, but +had rested tolerably ever since. He glanced at the temperature chart +she brought him and then looked keenly at her face and frowned. + +'What is the matter with all of you White Sisters?' he growled +discontentedly. 'First they send me one who cannot stay over night, +and then they send me one who has not been to bed for a week and ought +to stay there for a month! When did you leave your last case?' + +'Yesterday morning,' answered Sister Giovanna submissively. 'I slept +most of the afternoon. I am not tired and can do my work very well, I +assure you.' + +'Oh, you can, can you?' The excellent man glared at her savagely +through his spectacles. 'You cannot say anything yourself, of course, +but I shall go to your hospital to-day and give your Mother Superior +such a scolding as she never had in her life! She ought to be ashamed +to send out a nurse in your worn-out condition!' + +'I felt quite fresh and rested when I left the Convent in the +evening,' said the Sister in answer. 'It is not the Mother Superior's +fault.' + +'It is!' retorted the doctor, who could not bear contradiction. 'She +ought to know better, and I shall tell her so. Go home at once, +Sister, and go to bed and stay there!' + +'I am quite able to work,' protested Sister Giovanna quietly. 'There +is nothing the matter with me.' + +Still the doctor glared at her. + +'Show me your tongue!' he said roughly. + +The nun meekly opened her mouth and put out her little tongue: it was +as pink as a rose-leaf. The doctor grunted, grabbed her wrist and +began to count the pulse. Presently he made another inarticulate +noise, as if he were both annoyed and pleased at having been mistaken. + +'Something on your mind?' he asked, more kindly--'some mental +distress?' + +'Yes.' The word was spoken reluctantly. + +'I am sorry I was impatient,' he said, and his large brown eyes softened +behind his round spectacles as he turned to enter the sick-room. + +It was not his business to ask what had so greatly disturbed the peace +of Sister Giovanna. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +When the Princess Chiaromonte was getting well, she asked some +questions of her doctor, to which he replied as truthfully as he +could. She inquired, for instance, whether she had been delirious at +the beginning, and whether she had talked much when her mind was +wandering, and his answers disturbed her a little. As sometimes +happens in such cases, she had disjointed recollections of what she +had said, and vague visions of herself that were not mere creations of +her imagination. It was like a dream that had not been quite a dream; +opium-eaters know what the sensation is better than other men. Under +the influence of laudanum, or the pipe, or the hypodermic, they have +talked brilliantly, but they cannot remember what the conversation was +about; or else they know that they have been furiously angry, but +cannot recall the cause of their wrath nor the person on whom it was +vented; or they have betrayed a secret, but for their lives they could +not say who it was to whom they told it. The middle-aged woman of the +world felt that her reputation was a coat of many colours, and her +past, when she looked back to it, was like a badly-constructed play in +which the stage is crowded with personages who have little connection +with each other. There was much which she herself did not care to +remember, but much more that no one else need ever know; and as she +had never before been delirious, nor even ill, the thought that she +had now perhaps revealed incidents of her past life was anything but +pleasant. + +'It is so very disagreeable to think that I may have talked nonsense,' +she said to the doctor, examining one of her white hands thoughtfully. + +'Do not disturb yourself about that,' he answered in a reassuring +tone, for he understood much better than she guessed. 'A good trained +nurse is as silent about such accidental confessions as a good priest +is about intentional ones.' + +'Confession!' cried the Princess, annoyed. 'As if I were concealing a +crime! I only mean that I probably said very silly things. By the bye, +I had several nurses, had I not? You kept changing them. Do you happen +to know who that Sister Giovanna was, who looked so ill? You sent her +back after two days, I think, because you thought she might break +down. She reminded me of a niece of mine whom I have not seen for +years, but I did not like to ask her any questions, and besides, I was +much too ill.' + +'I have no idea who she was before she entered the order,' the doctor +answered. + +He was often asked such futile questions about nurses, and would not +have answered them if he had been able to do so. But in asking +information the Princess was unwittingly conveying it, for it flashed +upon him that Sister Giovanna was perhaps indeed that niece of whom +she spoke, and whom she was commonly said to have defrauded of her +fortune; the nun herself had told him of the sick woman's delirious +condition, and he remembered her looks and her admission that she was +in mental distress. All this tallied very well with the guess that her +aunt had made some sort of confession of her deed while her mind was +wandering, and that she now dimly recalled something of the sort. He +put the theory away for future consideration, and left the Princess in +ignorance that he had thought of it or had even attached any special +meaning to her words. + +She was far from satisfied, however, and made up her mind to follow up +the truth at all costs. As a first step, she sent a generous donation +to the Convent of the White Sisters, as soon as she was quite +recovered; and as her illness had not been serious enough to explain +such an important thank-offering, she wrote a line to say that she had +never been ill before, and had been so much impressed by the care she +had received that she felt she must really do something to help such +an excellent institution. It would give her keen pleasure to visit the +hospital, she said in conclusion, but that was no doubt too great a +favour to ask. + +In thanking her, the Mother Superior replied that it would be no +favour at all, and that the Princess would be welcome whenever she +chose to send word that she was coming. On the day following that, the +Mother told Sister Giovanna what had happened, and with characteristic +directness asked what she thought about her aunt's charity. + +'It is very kind of her,' answered the young nun in that monotonous, +businesslike tone which all religious use when speaking of an +apparently charitable action for the motive of which they are not +ready to vouch, though they have no reasonable ground for criticism. + +People of the world often speak in that voice when unexpectedly asked +to give an opinion about some person whom they dislike but do not dare +to abuse. + +The little white volcano flared up energetically, however. + +'I hate that sort of answer!' she cried, with a delicate snort. + +Sister Giovanna looked at her in surprise, but said nothing. + +'I cannot refuse the money,' said the Mother Superior, 'but I heartily +wish I could! She has given it in order to come here and to be well +received if she chooses to come again. I am sure of that, and she can +have no object in coming here except to make mischief for you. It may +be wicked of me, but I do not trust that lady in the least! Do you?' + +She asked the question suddenly. + +'She cannot harm me more than she did years ago,' Sister Giovanna +answered. + +'I wish that were certain!' said the other. 'I wish I had gone to +nurse her myself that night instead of sending you!' + +She was so evidently in earnest that the Sister was even more +surprised than before, and wondered what was the matter. But as it was +not her place to ask questions, and as the Mother Superior's doubt, or +presentiment of trouble, was evidently suggested by sincere affection +for herself, she said nothing, and went about her work without letting +her mind dwell too long on the conversation. Men and women who lead +the religious life in earnest acquire a much greater control of their +secret thoughts than ordinary people can easily believe it possible to +exercise. + +Nevertheless, the Princess's voice came back to her ears when she was +alone and told the story over and over again; and somehow her aunt was +often mentioned in the Convent as a recent benefactress who was +showing a lively interest in the hospital, and would perhaps give +further large sums to it which could be expended for good. Sister +Giovanna never said anything when the subject came up, but she could +not help thinking of Judas's suggestion that the alabaster box of +precious ointment might have been sold and given to the poor, and a +disturbing spirit whispered that Princess Chiaromonte, whose past +might well be compared with the Magdalen's, had done what Iscariot +would have advised. + +In due time, too, the great lady visited the Convent and hospital, and +was shown over it systematically by the Mother Superior herself, +followed by an approving little escort of nurses and novices, for it +was of course permissible to appreciate and admire the smart clothes +of a benefactress, whereas it would have been the height of levity to +bestow so much attention on a lady visitor who was merely fashionable +and had done nothing for the institution. This, at least, was the +novices' point of view. But the little white volcano seemed quietly +cross, and held her small head very high as she led the Princess from +one ward to another to the beautifully fitted operating-room; and when +she spoke her tone was strangely cold and mordant, as a woman's voice +sometimes sounds in the Alps, when she speaks across an ice-fall or a +frozen lake. + +The Princess looked behind her repeatedly, and her eyes sought her +niece's face amongst those she saw, but she asked no questions about +her, and apparently gave all her attention to what was shown her. +Sister Giovanna was in her cell during all that time, and should no +doubt have been occupied; but instead, she was standing idly at her +window, looking through one of the diamond-shaped openings in the +lattice, in the direction of Monteverde. She was hardly aware of what +she saw, however, for in imagination she was following her aunt +through the halls and wards and long corridors, and a struggle was +going on in her heart which hurt her and made her despise herself. + +The woman who had ruined her life was under the same roof with her +again, and she could not forgive her; and that seemed a very great +sin. What had she gained in the five years that had gone by since the +beginning of her noviciate, if she could not even forgive an injury? +That was the question. Since her life had led her to nothing better +than smouldering resentment and sharp regret, it had not been the holy +life she had meant it to be--the failure she must score against herself +was a total one, a general defeat--and all that she had believed she +had been doing for the dead man's sake must count for nothing, since +she had not once been really in a state of grace. + +No doubt her self-accusation went too far, as a confessor would have +told her, or even the Mother Superior, if that good and impulsive +woman had known what was in her mind. But Sister Giovanna did not +believe she could go far enough in finding fault with herself for such +great sins as her regret for a married life that might have been, and +her lasting anger against a person who had robbed her; and it was +while she was standing at her latticed window that morning that she +first thought of making an even more complete sacrifice by joining the +Sisters who intended to go out to the Rangoon leper hospital in the +spring. + +It was not with the hope of dying young that she wished to go and face +death daily, but in the earnest desire to escape from what she called +her temptation, and to regain that peace of mind which had been hers +for a long time and now was gone. She had made for herself a little +treasure-house of grace laid up, to be offered for Giovanni's soul, +and the gold of her affliction and the jewels of her unselfish labours +had been gathered there to help him. That had been her simple and +innocent belief, but it had broken down suddenly as soon as she +discovered that she was only a human, resentful, regretful woman after +all, as far below the mystic detachment from the outward world as she +had been in those first days of her grief, at Madame Bernard's, when +she had sat listless all the day long, a broken-hearted girl. What she +had taken for gold and had stored up for Giovanni's welfare was only +the basest metal, her jewels were but chips of gaudy glass, her +sacrifice was a failure after all. Worse than that, her dead man came +back alive from his grave and haunted her in dreams, threatening +righteous judgment on the woman who had cheated her and him of earthly +happiness. + +I shall not dwell on what she felt. Men and women who have honestly +tried to lead the good life for years and have suddenly realised that +they are as human as ever before, will understand what I have written. +The rest must either believe that it is true or, not believing, read +on for the sake of knowing Sister Giovanna's strange story, or else +throw my book aside for a dull novel not worth reading. We cannot +always be amusing, and real life is not always gay. + +The young nun waited in her cell till the Mother Superior herself +opened the door and entered. For the Princess was gone, after seeing +everything, praising everything with the flattering indiscrimination +of total ignorance, and, finally, after asking permission to make +another visit. She had spent ten minutes in the Mother's own rooms +before leaving, and had asked the names of the three Sisters who had +taken care of her in succession, writing them down on the back of a +visiting-card. She wished to remember them in her prayers, she said; +but the little white volcano almost laughed in her face, and the black +diamond eyes twinkled furiously as they turned away to hide their +scornful amusement--so strong was the nun's conviction that the new +benefactress was a humbug. The Princess looked at the names quite +calmly after she had written them--Sister Saint Paul, Sister Giovanna, +and Sister Marius--and asked whether she had seen any of them during +her visit. But the Mother Superior answered that they were all three +either nursing private cases or not on duty, which might mean that +they were resting in their cells. + +Sister Giovanna started slightly as the door of her cell opened, for +she had scarcely realised that she had not moved from the window for a +long time. The elder woman had not taken the trouble to knock, and, +strange to say, a faint blush rose in the Sister's face as if she had +been surprised and were a little ashamed of being caught in idleness +instead of reading her breviary for the day or doing something useful +with her hands. The black eyes looked at her searchingly, for nothing +escaped them. + +'What have you been thinking of?' asked the impulsive woman. + +There was a moment's silence. + +'The Rangoon lepers,' answered the Sister in a quiet voice. + +The Mother Superior's white face hardened strangely. + +'The Princess Chiaromonte is gone,' she said rather sharply, 'and you +are wanted in the surgical ward at once.' + +She turned without another word and went quickly away, leaving the +door open. It was clear that she was not pleased with the answer she +had received. + +Six weeks later Sister Giovanna went to her rooms on the other side of +the cloistered court after first chapel and knocked at the door. It +was a Monday morning in March, and she was to be Supervising Nurse for +the week, but the custom was to go on duty at eight o'clock and it was +not yet seven. + +'Well?' asked the Mother Superior, looking up from her papers, while +the young nun remained standing respectfully at the corner of the big +desk. + +The tone did not invite confidence; for some reason as yet unexplained +the Mother had avoided speaking with her best nurse since that morning +in the cell. + +'I have made up my mind to go to the lepers with the others, Mother, +if you will give me your permission.' + +The alabaster face suddenly glowed like white fire in the early light, +the dark eyebrows knitted themselves angrily, and the lips parted to +speak a hasty word, but immediately closed again. A long silence +followed Sister Giovanna's speech, and the elder nun looked down at +her papers and moved some of them about mechanically, from one place +to another on the table. + +'Are you angry with me, Mother?' asked Sister Giovanna, not +understanding. + +'With you, child?' The Mother looked up, and her face had softened a +little. 'No, I am not angry with you--at least, I hope I am not.' + +It was rather an ambiguous answer, to say the least, and the young nun +waited meekly for an explanation. None came, but instead, advice, +delivered in a direct and businesslike tone. + +'You had better put the idea out of your mind for a month or so, +honestly and with all the intention of which you are capable. If this +is a mere impulse, felt under some mental distress, it will subside +and you will think no more about it. If it is a true call, it will +come back and you will obey it in due time. More than that, I cannot +tell you. If you are not satisfied that I am advising you well, go to +Monsignor Saracinesca the next time he is here. It is my place to +warn, not to hinder; to help you if I can, not to stand in your way. +That is all, my daughter. Go to your duties.' + +Sister Giovanna bent her head obediently and left the room at once. +When she was gone, the Mother Superior rose from her desk and went +into her cell, locking the door after her. An hour later she was still +on her knees and her face was buried in her hands. She was weeping +bitterly. + +In all that numerous community which she governed and guided so well +there was not one person who would have believed that she could shed +tears, scalding and passionate, even rebellious, perhaps, if the whole +truth were known; for no Sister or novice of them all could have +imagined that such irresistible grief could take possession of a woman +who, as they all said among themselves, was made of steel and ice, +merely because one more of them wished to go to the Far East where so +many had gone already. + +But they did not know anything about the Mother Superior. Indeed, when +all was said, they knew next to nothing of her past, and as it was +against all rules to discuss such matters, it was not likely that they +should ever hear more, even if a new Sister joined them who chanced to +have some information. They were aware, of course, that her name, in +religion, was Mother Veronica, though they did not speak of her except +as the Mother Superior. It was true that they had never heard of a nun +of their order taking the name of Veronica, but that was not a matter +to criticise either. She spoke exceedingly pure Italian, with the +accent and intonation of a Roman lady, but it was no secret that when +she had come to take the place of her predecessor, who had died +suddenly, she had arrived from Austria; and she also spoke German +fluently, which argued that she had been in that country some time. +There was certainly nothing in these few facts to account for what she +suffered when Sister Giovanna spoke of going to Rangoon, and it would +have been hard to believe that her burning tears overflowed in spite +of her, not only that first time but often afterwards, at the mere +thought of parting with the best nurse in the hospital, even if she +felt some special sympathy for her. + +Whatever the cause of her trouble was, no one knew of it; and that she +found no cause for self-accusation in what she felt is clear, since +she made no mention of it in her next confession. Indeed, she more +often found fault with herself for being harsh in her judgments and +too peremptory and tyrannical in the government of her community, than +for giving way easily to the impulses of human sympathy. She was not +nervous either, in the sense of her nerves being unsteady or +overwrought in consequence of a long-continued strain; there was +nothing in her weeping that could have suggested a neurotic breakdown +even to the most sceptical of physicians. It was genuine, +irresistible, overwhelming grief, and she knew that its cause was not +even in part imaginary, but was altogether real, and terrible beyond +any expression. + +Nevertheless, she found strength to speak to Monsignor Saracinesca of +Sister Giovanna's intention, one day when he came to see her early in +the morning on a matter of business; for he managed the finances of +the Convent hospital and was also its representative in any questions +in which the institution, as distinguished from the order had secular +dealings with the world. + +The prelate and the Mother met as usual in the cloistered garden, and +when Convent affairs had been disposed of, they continued their walk +in silence for a few moments. + +'I want your unprejudiced opinion about the future of one of the +Sisters,' said the Mother Superior at last, in her usual tone. + +'I will try to give it,' answered Monsignor Saracinesca. + +'Sister Giovanna wishes to go to Rangoon with the other three.' + +The churchman betrayed no surprise, and answered without hesitation: + +'You know what I always say in such cases, when I am consulted.' + +'Yes. I have given her that advice--to wait a month to try to put the +idea out of her mind, to make sure that it is not a passing impulse.' + +'You cannot do more,' said Monsignor Saracinesca, 'nor can I.' + +The Mother Superior turned up her white face and looked at him so +steadily that he gazed at her in surprise. + +'It ought to be stopped,' she said, with sudden energy. 'It may be +wrong to call it suicide and to interfere on that ground, but there is +another, and a good one. I am responsible for the hospital here, for +the nursing in it, and for the Sisters who are sent out to private +cases. Year after year, one, two, and sometimes three of my best young +nurses go away to these leper asylums in Rangoon and other places in +the Far East. It is not the stupid ones that go, the dull, devoted +creatures who could do that one thing well, because it is perfectly +mechanical and a mere question of prophylaxis, precaution, and +routine--and charity. Those that go always seem to be the best, the +very nurses who are invaluable in all sorts of difficult cases from an +operation to a typhoid fever; the most experienced, the cleverest, the +most gifted! How can I be expected to keep up our standard if this +goes on year after year? It is outrageous! And the worst of it is that +the "vocation" is catching! The clever ones catch it because they are +the most sensitively organised, but not the good, simple, humdrum +little women who would be far better at nursing lepers than at a case +of appendicitis--and better in heaven than in a leper asylum, for that +matter!' + +Monsignor Saracinesca listened in silence to this energetic tirade; +but when the little white volcano was quiescent for a moment, he shook +his head. It was less an expression of disapproval than of doubt. + +'It is manifestly impossible to send the least intelligent of the +Sisters, if they do not offer to go,' he answered. 'Besides, how would +you pick out the dull ones? By examination?' + +He was not without a sense of humour, and his sharply-chiselled lips +twitched a little but were almost instantly grave again. The Mother +Superior's profile was as still as a marble medallion. + +'It ought to be stopped altogether,' she said presently, with +conviction. 'Meanwhile, though I have told Sister Giovanna that it is +not my place to hinder her, much less my right, I tell you plainly +that I will prevent her from going, if I can!' + +This frank statement did not surprise the prelate, who was used to her +direct speech and energetic temper, and liked both. But he said little +in answer. + +'That is your affair, Reverend Mother. You will do what your +conscience dictates.' + +'Conscience?' repeated the nun with a resentful question in her tone. +'If the word really means anything, which I often doubt, it is an +instinctive discernment of right and wrong in one's own particular +case, to be applied to the salvation of one's own soul. Is it not?' + +'Undoubtedly.' + +'What have I to do with my own particular case?' The volcano flared up +indignantly. 'It is my duty to do what is best for the souls and +bodies of forty women and girls, more or less, and of a great number +of sick persons here and in their own homes, without considering +myself at all, my instincts, or my little individual discernment of my +own feelings, or my human likes and dislikes of people. If my duty +leads me into temptation, I have got to face temptation intentionally, +instead of avoiding it, as we are taught to do, and if I break down +under it, so much the worse for me--the good of the others will have +been accomplished nevertheless! That is one side of my life. Another +is that if my duty demands that I should tear out my heart and trample +on it, I ought not to hesitate, though I knew I was to die of the +pain!' + +The clear low voice vibrated strangely. + +'But I will not do it, unless it is to bring about some real good to +others,' she added. + +Monsignor Saracinesca glanced at her face again before he answered. + +'Your words are clear enough, but I do not understand you,' he said. +'If I can possibly help you, tell me what it is that distresses you. +If not, let us talk of other things.' + +'You cannot help me.' Her thin lips closed upon each other in an even +line. + +'I am sorry,' answered the churchman gravely. 'As for Sister +Giovanna's intention, I share your opinion, for I think she can do +more good here than by sacrificing herself in Burmah. If she consults +me, I shall tell her so.' + +'Thank you.' + +They parted, and the Mother Superior went back to her room and her +work with a steady step and holding her head high. But she did not +even see a lay sister who was scrubbing her small private staircase, +and who rose to let her pass, saluting her as she went by. + +Monsignor Saracinesca left the garden by the glass door that opened +into the large hall, already described, and he went out past the +portress's little lodge. She was just opening the outer door when he +came up with her, and the next moment he found himself face to face +with Madame Bernard. He stepped back politely to let her pass, and +lifted his hat with a smile of recognition; but instead of advancing +she uttered a little cry of surprise and satisfaction, and retreated +to let him come out. He noticed that her face betrayed great +excitement, and she seemed hardly able to speak. + +'What is the matter?' he asked kindly, as he emerged from the deep +doorway. + +The portress was waiting for Madame Bernard to enter, but the +Frenchwoman had changed her mind and held up her hand, shaking one +forefinger. + +'Not to-day, Anna!' she cried. 'Or later--I will come back, perhaps--I +cannot tell. May I walk a few steps with you, Monseigneur?' + +'By all means,' answered the prelate. + +The door of the Convent closed behind them, but Madame Bernard was +evidently anxious to get well out of hearing before she spoke. At the +corner of the quiet street she suddenly stood still and looked up to +her companion's face, evidently in great perturbation. + +'Well?' he asked. 'What is it?' + +'Giovanni Severi is alive.' + +Monsignor Saracinesca thought the good woman was dreaming. + +'It is impossible,' he said emphatically. + +'On the contrary,' returned Madame Bernard, 'it is perfectly true. If +you do not believe me, look at this!' + +She opened her governess's reticule and fumbled amongst the little +school-books and papers it contained. In a moment she brought out a +letter, sealed, stamped, and postmarked, and held it up before the +tall prelate's eyes. + +It was addressed to 'Donna Angela Chiaromonte,' to the care of Madame +Bernard at the latter's lodgings in Trastevere, the stamp was an +Italian one, and the postmark was that of the military post-office in +Massowah. Monsignor Saracinesca looked at the envelope curiously, took +it from Madame Bernard and examined the stamped date. Then he asked +her if she was quite sure of the handwriting, and she assured him that +she was; Giovanni had written before he started into the interior with +the expedition, and she herself had received the letter from the +postman and had given it to Angela. What was more, after Angela had +gone to live at the Convent, Madame Bernard had found the old envelope +of the letter in a drawer and had kept it, and she had just looked at +it before leaving her house. + +'He is alive,' she said with conviction; 'he has written this letter +to her, and he does not know that she is a nun. He is coming home, I +am sure!' + +Monsignor Saracinesca was a man of great heart and wide experience, +but such a case as this had never come to his knowledge. He stood +still in deep thought, bending a little as he rested both his hands on +the battered silver knob of his old stick. + +'He is coming home!' repeated Madame Bernard in great distress. 'What +are we to do?' + +'What were you going to do just now, when I met you at the door?' +asked the prelate. + +'I do not know! I was going to see her! Perhaps I would have broken +the news to her gently, perhaps I would have said nothing and kept the +letter to give it to her at another time! How can I tell what I would +have done? It would have depended so much on the way she took the +first suggestion! People have died of joy, Monseigneur! A little +weakness of the heart, a sudden joyful surprise, it stops beating--that +has happened before now!' + +'Yes. It has happened before now. I knew of such a case myself.' + +'And I adore the child!' cried the impulsive Frenchwoman, ready to +burst into tears. 'Oh, what shall we do? What ought we to do?' + +'Do you know the Mother Superior?' + +'Oh yes! Quite well. Are you going to tell me that I should take the +letter to her? She is a cold, hard woman, Monseigneur! A splendid +woman to manage a hospital, perhaps, but she has no more heart than a +steel machine! She will burn the letter, and never tell any one!' + +'I think you are mistaken about her,' answered the churchman gravely. +'She has more heart than most of us, and I believe that even you +yourself are not more devoted to Sister Giovanna than she is.' + +'Really, Monseigneur? Is it possible? Are you sure? What makes you +think so?' + +'To the best of my knowledge and belief, what I have told you is the +truth, though I might find it hard to explain my reasons for saying +so. But before you go to the Mother Superior, or speak of the matter +to Sister Giovanna, there is something else to be done. This letter, +by some strange accident of the post, may have been written before +Giovanni Severi died. There is a bare possibility that it may have +been mislaid in the post-office, or that he may have given it to a +comrade to post, who forgot it--many things may happen to a letter.' + +'Well? What must I do?' + +'If he is alive, the fact is surely known already at headquarters, and +you should make inquiries. To give Sister Giovanna a letter from the +dead man would be wrong, in my opinion, for it would cause her +needless and harmful pain. If he is dead, it should be burned, I +think. But if he is really alive, after all, you have no right to burn +it, and sooner or later she must have it and know the truth, with as +little danger to her health and peace of mind as possible.' + +'You are right, Monseigneur,' answered Madame Bernard. 'What you say +is full of wisdom. I have three lessons to give this morning, and as +soon as I am free I will go myself to the house of a superior officer +whose daughter I used to teach, and he will find out the truth by the +telephone in a few minutes.' + +'I think that is the best course,' said the churchman. + +So they parted, for he was going to Saint Peter's, and she turned in +the direction of the nearest tramway, hastening to her pupils. And +meanwhile the inevitable advanced on its unchanging course. + +For Giovanni Severi was alive and well, and was on his way to Rome. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Giovanni Severi's adventures, between his supposed death in the +massacre of the expedition and his unexpected reappearance at Massowah +nearly five years later, would fill an interesting little volume in +themselves; but inasmuch as an account of them would not make this +story clearer and would occupy much space, it is enough to state the +bare facts in a few words. Such tales of danger, suffering, and +endurance have often been told at first hand, by the heroes of them, +far more vividly and correctly than a mere story-teller can narrate +them on hearsay. + +The expedition had been attacked and destroyed by a handful of natives +from a wandering tribe that was camping very near. Within a few +minutes their chief was informed of what they had done, and he rode +out to the spot with a large body of men at his heels. Among the dead, +Giovanni Severi lay bleeding from a gash in the head, but not mortally +hurt. The chief was by no means a mere dull savage, and finding an +Italian officer alive, he recognised at once that it would be a +mistake to knock him on the head and leave him with his comrades to be +disposed of by the vultures and hyęnas. On the other hand, he must not +be allowed to escape to the Italian colony with news of the disaster. +At some future time, and from a safe distance, it might be possible to +obtain a large ransom for him; or, on the other hand, if a large force +were ever sent up the country to revenge the outrage, it might be to +the credit of the chief if he could prove that the deed had been done +without his knowledge and that he had treated the only survivor +humanely. He therefore took possession of Giovanni and provided for +his safety in a simple manner by merely stating that if the prisoner +escaped he would cut off ten heads, but if any harm came to him, he +would cut off at least a hundred. As no one doubted but that he would +keep his word, as he invariably did in such matters, Giovanni had but +small chance of ever regaining his liberty, and none at all presented +itself for nearly five years. During that time he travelled with his +captors or lived in camps, many hundreds of miles from the outposts of +civilisation; he learned their language and the chief insisted on +learning his, as it might be useful; furthermore, he was required to +teach his master whatever he could about modern warfare and what +little he knew of agriculture and its arts of peace. In return he was +well fed, well lodged when possible, and as well clad as any man in +the tribe except the chief himself, which was not saying much. + +His chance came at last and he did not let it pass. It involved +killing one of his guards, stunning another, and seizing the chief's +own camel, and it was not without great risk to his life that he got +away. A fortnight later he had travelled five hundred miles and +reported himself at headquarters in Massowah, dressed in a long native +shirt, a dirty turban, and nothing else, as Captain Giovanni Severi, +formerly of the Staff and late of the expedition that had perished +five years earlier. + +It chanced, for the inevitable was at work, that the mail steamer for +Italy was to leave the next morning and a small man-of-war on the +following day, also homeward bound. Giovanni wrote to Angela +Chiaromonte by the former and went on board the Government vessel +twenty-four hours afterwards. He himself sent no telegram, because he +did not know where his brothers were and he feared lest a telegraphic +message might give Angela a bad shock, if it reached her at all. +Moreover, he had no news of her and could get no information whatever, +so that he addressed his letter to Madame Bernard's old lodgings on +the mere possibility that it might reach its destination. + +Any one might have supposed that the news of his escape would have +been in the papers before he reached Italy, for it was telegraphed to +the War Office in Rome by the officer in command of the force at +Massowah. But the Minister chose to keep the intelligence a secret +till Giovanni's arrival, because he expected to gain much information +from him and feared lest the newspapers should get hold of him and +learn facts from him which would be more useful to Italy if not made +public; and when the Italian Government wishes to keep a secret, it +can do so quite as well as any other, to the despair of the public +press. + +The consequence of the Minister's instructions was that Giovanni was +met by a superior officer who came on board the man-of-war at Naples +in order to forestall any possible attempt on the part of +correspondents to get hold of him, and also for the purpose of giving +him further directions for his conduct. He was to proceed to Rome at +once, and the Minister would receive him privately on the following +day at twelve o'clock. He was recommended not to go to an hotel, but +to put up with his brother, who, as he now learned, was at Monteverde, +and had been privately informed of his arrival and warned to be +discreet. + +The mail steamer which had brought Giovanni's letter to Madame Bernard +had stopped at Port Said, Alexandria, and Messina, but the man-of-war +came direct to Naples, and though slower than the packet-boat, arrived +there only a few hours later. Madame Bernard's inquiries, made through +the old colonel whose daughter she had formerly taught, proved +fruitless, because the War Office would not allow Giovanni's coming to +be known, and the result was that she took the letter home with her in +her bag, and spent the evening in a very disturbed state of mind, +debating with herself as to what she ought to do. She would have given +anything to open the envelope, if only to see the date, and once or +twice, when she reflected on the importance of knowing whether the +writer was alive before giving his letter to Sister Giovanna, she +almost yielded; but not quite, for she was an honourable little woman, +according to her lights. + +Late on that night Giovanni got into the train that was to bring him +to Rome before Madame Bernard would be ready to go out in the morning. + +Ugo Severi had been summoned by the Minister some days previously, and +had been told that his brother was alive and coming home, and would +lodge with him. Meanwhile Captain Ugo was put on his honour to say +nothing of the matter to his friends. Such a recommendation was, in +fact, needed, as Ugo would otherwise have informed the Princess +Chiaromonte, if no one else. Considering how much feeling she had +shown about Giovanni's supposed death, it would have been only humane +to do so; but the Minister's instructions were precise and emphatic, +and Ugo kept what he knew to himself and thought about it so +continually that Confucianism temporarily lost its interest for him. + +He had always been on good terms with Giovanni, though they had not +seen much of each other after the latter was appointed to the Staff. +As for the brother who was in the Navy, Ugo rarely saw him or even +heard of him, and since their father had died he himself had led a +very lonely existence. His delight on learning that Giovanni had +escaped and was returning may be imagined, for, in spite of his +apparent coldness and love of solitude, he was a man of heart, and +like many Italians of all classes his ideal of happiness would have +been to live quietly under one roof with his brothers and sister. +There is probably no other people in the world that finds such +permanent satisfaction in what most of us would think a dull family +life. It is a survival of the ancient patriarchal way of living, when +the 'family' was a religion and its head was at once its absolute +ruler and its high priest. + +The only preparation which Ugo had made for receiving Giovanni was the +purchase of an iron folding camp-bed. He told his orderly that a +brother officer of his might have to spend a night in the house before +long, which was strictly true. In due time a soldier on a bicycle +brought him an official note from the Minister, informing him that +Giovanni had reached Naples and would appear at Monteverde on the +following morning. This note came late in the afternoon, and Ugo +thought it needless to inform Pica, as Giovanni would certainly not +wish to go to bed as soon as he arrived, so that the little bedstead +need not be set up till he actually came. + +At ten o'clock that evening, Ugo rose from his easy-chair, stretched +himself, and whistled for Pica as usual. The orderly brought him his +boots, his cloak, his sabre, and his cap, all of which he put on, as +he always did, before going downstairs, for it was the hour at which +he invariably inspected the neighbourhood. It was his practice to +begin by walking round the outside of the enclosure, his man carrying +a good lantern; he then examined the interior of the space, and +finally visited the guard-room and exchanged a word with the officer +on duty for the night. Of late, he had occasionally gone out again +between twelve and one o'clock, before going to bed; for two or three +suspicious-looking characters had been seen in the neighbourhood of +the magazine, like the man in the battered brown hat who had come upon +Pica one afternoon and had asked his way. There was, in fact, a +disquieting suspicion at headquarters that an attempt might be made to +blow up one of the magazines; the detachments of soldiers on duty had +therefore been strengthened and the officers in charge had been +instructed to exercise the greatest vigilance. + +When Captain Ugo went out of his door as usual, with Pica at his +heels, the night was dark and it was just beginning to rain. The two +went directly from the little house to the gate of the enclosure, and +Ugo answered the sentry's challenge mechanically and walked briskly +along the straight wall to the corner. Turning to the right then, he +was following the next stretch at a good pace when he stumbled and +nearly fell over something that lay in his path. As Pica held up the +lantern close behind him, a man sprang up from the ground, where he +must have been lying asleep, probably in liquor. By the uncertain +light and in the rain, Ugo saw only the blurred vision of an +individual in a ragged and dripping overcoat, with an ugly, blotched +face and a ruined hat. + +An instant later, and just as Ugo was challenging the man, two shots +were fired. The first smashed and extinguished the lantern in Pica's +hand without hurting him; the second took effect, and the Captain +staggered against the wall, but instead of falling, sat down suddenly +on the wet ground with his back against the masonry. The ruffian was +gone and Pica had dashed after him in a fruitless pursuit, for the +breaking of the lantern in his hand had checked the orderly as he was +about to spring at the miscreant, who thus gained a sufficient start +to ensure his escape. + +In a few seconds the officer on duty and three or four of the men were +on the spot with lights. + +'You will have to carry me,' said the Captain calmly enough. 'I am +shot in the foot and something is broken. Turn out the guard, +Lieutenant, as a matter of principle and have the neighbourhood +searched, though you will not find any one now. The fellow has got +clean away.' + +The men lifted him and carried him towards his house. Before they +reached the door Pica met them, breathing hard and muttering Sicilian +imprecations on the man who had wounded his master and got away; but +while the Captain was being taken upstairs the orderly lit a candle +and went to the telephone in the hall. He glanced at the address-book +and then without hesitation he asked the central office to give him +Princess Chiaromonte's number. His reason for doing so was simple: she +was the only person in Rome who had ever appeared in the light of a +friend of the Captain's family; she would do the right thing at once, +Pica thought, and would send the best surgeon in Rome out to +Monteverde in a motor in the shortest possible time. She was at home +that evening, as it turned out, and at Pica's request she came to the +telephone herself and heard his story. + +She answered that she would try and get Doctor Pieri to go at once in +her own motor, as he had the reputation of being the best surgeon in +the city, but that if he could not be found she would send another +doctor without delay. Pica went upstairs and found the Captain +stretched on his bed in his wet clothes, while the three soldiers who +had carried him up were trying to pull his boot off instead of cutting +it. One of the younger officers from the magazine was already scouring +the neighbourhood in obedience to Ugo's orders. + +Pica sent the men away at once with the authority which a favourite +orderly instinctively exercises over his less fortunate comrades. He +was neither stupid nor quite unskilled, however, and in a few minutes +he had slit the Captain's boot down the seam at the back and removed +it almost without hurting him, as well as the merino sock. The small +round wound was not bleeding much, but it was clear that the bone of +the ankle was badly injured and the whole foot was already much +swollen. The revolver had evidently been of small calibre, but the +charge had been heavy and the damage was considerable. Pica had the +sense not to attempt to make any bandage beyond laying two soft folded +handkerchiefs one upon the other to the wound and loosely confining +them with a silk one. While he was busy with this, he explained what +he had done. The Captain, who knew that he was badly hurt and guessed +that he might be lamed for life by unskilful treatment, was glad to +hear that the famous Pieri had been called. He said that he felt no +pain worth speaking of, and he questioned his man as to the latter's +impression of what had happened. Pica did not believe in anarchists +and gave it as his opinion that the ruffian was an ordinary bad +character who was in daily expectation of being arrested for some +crime and who had fallen asleep in his cups, not knowing that he was +close to the magazine. Being awakened suddenly, he had probably +supposed himself overtaken by justice, had fired and run away. The +explanation was plausible, at all events. Neither Ugo nor his man +believed that any one would really try to blow up the place, for they +regarded that as quite impossible without the collusion of some one of +the soldiers, which was not to be thought of. + +While they were talking, Pica managed to get off the Captain's outer +clothes; but as they were partly wet with rain, the bed was now damp. +He therefore went and got the new camp bedstead and set it up, spread +dry blankets and sheets over it, and lifted Ugo to it without letting +the injured foot hang down, for he was a fairly strong man and was far +from clumsy. + +The change had just been successfully made when a motor was heard +coming up the short stretch from the high-road to the house, and Pica +hastened downstairs to open the door for the surgeon. To his surprise, +but much to his satisfaction, the Princess Chiaromonte was the first +to get out in the rain, bareheaded, but muffled in a waterproof. She +had no footman and no umbrella, and she made a quick dash for the +door, followed at once by Doctor Pieri. She recognised the handsome +orderly and smiled at him as she shook the rain-drops from her hair +and then gave him her cloak. + +'Is he badly hurt?' she asked quickly; but she saw from Pica's face +that it was not a matter of life and death, and she did not wait for +his answer. 'We will go upstairs at once,' she added, leading the way +to the steps. + +On learning that Ugo was already in bed, she said she would wait in +the large sitting-room while the doctor went in to see what could be +done. If the Captain would see her, she would speak to him when Pieri +had finished his work. + +Nearly three-quarters of an hour passed before he joined her. + +'It is a bad fracture,' he said, 'and it will require an operation if +he is not to be lamed for life. I should much prefer to perform it in +a proper place. There is none better than the private hospital of the +White Sisters and it is by far the nearest. Do you happen to know the +place?' + +The Princess said that she did and that she was a patroness of the +Convent. The surgeon observed that it was now past eleven, and that +the patient could not be moved before morning. If she agreed with him +and would lend her motor for the purpose, he would communicate with +the hospital and take the Captain there himself between eight and nine +o'clock. For the present he needed no special nursing, and the orderly +seemed to be an unusually intelligent young fellow, who could be +trusted and was sincerely attached to his master. The Princess agreed +to everything, and asked whether the Captain wished to see her. + +He did, and when she stood beside him he pressed her hand gratefully +and thanked her with real feeling for her great kindness. She +answered, before Pica, that she would always do anything in her power +for any one of his name, and she explained that she would be at the +hospital on the following morning to see that he had a good private +room and received special care. He thanked her again and bade her +good-night. Two or three minutes later he heard the motor puffing and +wheezing, and Pica came back after shutting the door. Ugo now sent him +over to the guard-room with a message to the lieutenant on duty, +requesting him to write a brief official account of the occurrence and +to send it by hand to headquarters the next morning. It was necessary +that another officer should take Ugo's place in command of the fort +while he was in hospital. + +Pica came back again in a few moments. Then Ugo insisted on having +writing-materials, and sat up, propped with cushions, while he wrote a +short note to the Minister of War, explaining what had happened, and +that he would not leave his home on the morrow till his brother had +arrived, but that some further arrangement must be made if Giovanni +was to lodge in the house, which would probably be wanted for the +officer who was to take his own place. Pica was to be at the +Minister's own residence at seven o'clock with this note and was to +wait for an answer. The Minister was known to be a very early riser +and would have plenty of time to arrange matters as he thought best. + +Ugo was now in a good deal of pain, and it seemed very long before the +panes of his window turned from black to grey as the dawn +fore-lightened. He made Pica get him coffee, and soon after sunrise the +orderly brought one of the men from the guard-house to remain within +call in case the Captain needed anything. Pica took his bicycle and went +off to the city with the note for the Minister. + +As Ugo had anticipated, Giovanni arrived in a station cab while the +orderly was still absent, and was admitted by the soldier, on his +representing that he was a relation of the Captain's and had come a long +distance to see him. The man briefly explained that Ugo was in bed, +having been wounded in the foot during the night, but was in no danger. +A moment later the brothers were together. + +Ugo saw a man standing beside his bed and holding out his hand whom he +would certainly not have recognised if he had met him in the street. His +skin was almost as dark as an Arab's, and he wore a brown beard which +had reddened in streaks under the African sun. He was as lean as a +half-starved greyhound, but did not look ill, and his eyes were fiery +and deeper set than formerly. His head had been shaved when he had worn +a turban, but the hair was now more than half an inch long, and was as +thick as a beaver's fur. He was dressed in a suit of thin grey clothes +which he had picked up in Massowah, and which did not fit him, and his +canvas shoes were in a bad way. When he spoke, it was with a slight +accent, unlike any that Ugo had heard, and he occasionally hesitated as +if trying to find a word. + +After the first greetings, he sat down and told the main facts of his +story. When he paused the two looked at each other and after a while +they laughed. + +'The disguise is complete,' Ugo said. 'But are you going to call on the +Minister in those clothes? If you are seen near the magazine in that +condition you will be warned off and I shall have to explain who you +are.' + +'I suppose I could get into a uniform of yours, since I have grown +thin,' Giovanni answered. 'We are the same height, I remember, and as I +am in the artillery no one can find fault with me for wearing the +uniform of another regiment than my own, in an emergency. It will be +better than presenting myself before the Minister in these rags! I +suppose you have got your captaincy by this time?' + +'Six months ago!' + +They talked on, and Ugo explained that he was to be taken to the +hospital of the White Sisters soon after eight o'clock. + +'I shall go with you,' Giovanni answered, 'and see you installed in your +room. The Minister does not want me till twelve o'clock.' + +They agreed to tell Pica, when he returned, that Giovanni was an +artillery officer and a relative who had just arrived from a long +journey without any luggage. As the orderly had known that the Captain +expected a visitor before long, he would not be surprised, and the +relationship would account for Giovanni's name. + +The latter selected an undress uniform from his brother's well-stocked +wardrobe and proceeded to scrub and dress in the adjoining +dressing-room, talking to Ugo through the open door and asking him +questions about old friends and comrades. Ugo told him of the Princess +Chiaromonte's visit and of her kindness in coming with Doctor Pieri on +the previous evening. Giovanni appeared at the door, half dressed. + +'Did you tell her that I am alive?' he asked. + +'No. The Ministry has made an official secret of it, so I have told no +one.' + +'And you say that she will be at the hospital this morning! We shall +meet, then. I wonder whether she will know me.' + +'It is impossible, I should say,' Ugo answered, looking at his brother's +lean face and heavy beard. 'I hardly recognise you even now!' + +Giovanni finished dressing and came out at last, looking very smart in +Ugo's clothes. He had asked no questions about Angela, for he felt +tolerably sure that Ugo had never known her, and it was his intention to +go directly from the hospital to Madame Bernard's lodgings, where he +hoped to find them both as he had left them. He could not bring himself +to make vague and roundabout inquiries just then, and he was still less +inclined to confide his love story to this brother whom he hardly felt +that he knew. So he kept his own counsel and waited, as he had learned +to do in five years of slavery. + +The Minister sent back a line by Pica to say that Giovanni was to come +to him at noon, and would then receive his instructions as to a change +of lodging, if any should seem advisable. There was a word of sympathy +also for Ugo. + +In less than an hour more, Giovanni had helped Pica to carry Ugo down to +the Princess's motor, which had appeared punctually, bringing Doctor +Pieri, and the wounded man was comfortably placed in the limousine with +the surgeon beside him and Giovanni sitting opposite. Ugo introduced his +brother as a relation who had arrived very opportunely that morning. + +The motor buzzed away from the door, and reached the Convent of Santa +Giovanna d'Aza in a few minutes. The sky had cleared after the rain and +the April sun was shining gloriously. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Sister Giovanna was the supervising nurse for the week, and in the +natural course of her duty it was she who went to the telephone when +Doctor Pieri called up the hospital at seven o'clock. In a few words +he explained the case as far as was necessary, and begged the Sister +to have a good room ready for the patient; he believed that Number Two +was vacant. + +It was, and the wounded man could have it. The Doctor said he would +bring him in a motor towards nine o'clock. + +'The patient's name, if you please,' said Sister Giovanna in a +businesslike tone. + +'Captain Severi. I do not know his first name. What is the matter, +Sister?' + +The nun had uttered a low exclamation of surprise, which Pieri had +heard distinctly. + +'Nothing,' she answered, controlling her voice. 'Is he a son of the +late general of that name?' + +'I do not know, Sister. He is a friend of the Princess Chiaromonte. Is +it all right? I am busy.' + +'Yes,' answered the nun's voice. 'It is all right.' + +She hung up the receiver and went to give the necessary orders, rather +whiter about the lips than usual. The fact that the injured officer +was a friend of her aunt's seemed to make it certain that he was one +of the brothers of whom Giovanni had often spoken, and the mere +thought that she was to see him in an hour or two was disturbing. For +a moment she was strongly impelled to beg the Mother Superior that +some one else might take her place during the morning; but in the +first place it seemed cowardly to leave her post; and secondly, in +order to explain her position, she would have been obliged to tell the +Mother Superior her whole story, which she had never done. Monsignor +Saracinesca knew it, and Madame Bernard, but no one else whom she ever +saw nowadays. + +Then came the comforting inward suggestion that Giovanni would have +wished her to do all she could for his brother, and this at once made +a great difference. She went to see that the room was in perfect +order, though she was quite sure that it was, and she sent for the +orderlies on duty and told them to be especially careful in moving a +patient who would soon be brought, and to get ready a certain new +chair which was especially constructed for carrying persons who had +received injuries of the feet only, and who did not require to be +transported on the ordinary stretcher, which always gives a patient +the idea that his case is a serious one. + +She also went out to the lodge, to warn the portress that Captain +Severi was expected, and must not be kept waiting even a few seconds +longer than was necessary. The excellent Anna looked up with some +surprise, for she had never kept any one waiting without good cause, +since she had been in charge of the gate, but she bent her head +obediently and said nothing. It seems to be a general rule with +religious houses that no one is ever to wait in the street for +admittance; the barrier, which is often impassable, is the door that +leads inward from the vestibule. + +When everything was prepared for Ugo's reception, Sister Giovanna went +back to the duties which kept her constantly occupied in the morning +hours and often throughout the day. She was personally responsible to +the house-surgeon for the carrying out of all directions given the +nurses, as he was, in grave cases, to the operating surgeon or +visiting physician. It was her business to inspect everything +connected with the hospital, from the laundry, the sterilising +apparatus, and the kitchen, to the dispensary, where she was expected +to know from day to day what supplies were on hand and what was +needed. She was ultimately answerable for the smallest irregularity or +accident, and had to report everything to the Mother Superior every +evening after Vespers and before supper. During her week, every one in +the establishment came to her for all matters that concerned the +hospital and the nurses on duty by day or night; but she had nothing +to do with those who were sent out to private cases. They reported +themselves and gave an account of their work to the Mother Superior, +whenever they returned to the Convent. + +The supervising nurse for the week did not sleep in her cell, but lay +down on a pallet bed behind a curtain, in her office on the first +floor, close to the dispensary, where she could be called at a +moment's notice, though it rarely happened that she was disturbed +between ten o'clock at night and five in the morning. + +The Mother Superior had introduced the system soon after she had taken +charge of the Convent hospital, of which the management now differed +from that of most similar institutions in this respect, for the most +competent Sisters took turns in the arduous task of supervision, from +week to week. At other times they went to private cases when required, +or acted as ordinary nurses. Any one who has any knowledge of +hospitals managed by religious orders is aware that no two of them +work by precisely the same rules, and that the rules themselves are +largely the result of the Mother Superior's own experience, modified +by the personal theories and practice of the operating surgeon and the +principal visiting physician. The scale of everything relating to the +administration is, of course, very small compared with that of any +public hospital, and all responsibility therefore weighs more directly +on the doctors and nurses in charge at any given moment than on a +board of management; in other words, on the right individuals rather +than on a body. + +Princess Chiaromonte rose early and drove to the Convent in a cab, +intending to come home in the motor which was to bring Ugo and the +doctor. She rang, was admitted, and asked for the supervising nurse. +The portress, who knew her by sight, at once led her to the large hall +already mentioned, and rang the bell which gave warning that some one +was waiting who had business in the hospital. She drew one of the +chairs forward for the Princess and went back to the lodge. A moment +later a novice opened the door that led to the wards, and the visitor +repeated her request, without mentioning her name. + +The novice bowed and disappeared, and several minutes passed before +Sister Giovanna came. She had last seen her aunt ill in bed and +flushed with fever, but the Princess had changed too little in five +years not to be instantly recognised by any one who had known her so +recently. + +Both women made a movement of surprise, and the nun stood still an +instant, still holding the handle of the door. Of the two, however, +she was the first to regain her composure. Her aunt rose with alacrity +indeed, and held out her hand, but she coloured a little and laughed +with perceptible awkwardness. She had long wished to see her niece, +but the meeting had come too unexpectedly to be pleasant. + +'I hope you have felt no ill effects from your illness?' Sister +Giovanna spoke calmly, in a tone of civil inquiry. + +'Oh, none at all!' answered the Princess. 'Thanks to your wonderful +nursing,' she added, with rather too much eagerness. 'I had hoped to +tell you before now how grateful I am; but though I have been here +more than once, you were never here when I came.' + +Sister Giovanna bent her head slightly. + +'There is really nothing to thank me for,' she said. 'The novice said +you wished to see me; can I be of any service to you?' + +The elder woman inwardly resented the tone of superior calm. She was +now convinced that Sister Giovanna was no other than her niece Angela, +though she had not yet given any direct sign of recognition. She was +not quite sure of being able to meet the young eyes steadily, and when +she answered she fixed her own on the line where the veil was drawn +tightly across the nun's forehead. In this way she could not fail to +see any quick change in the other's features. + +'It is about Captain Severi,' she said very distinctly, 'Ugo, as we +call him--the brother of that poor Giovanni who was murdered by savages +in Africa.' + +She saw what she had hoped to see and felt that she had already got +the upper hand, for the nun's face turned the colour of smouldering +wood ashes when they are a greyish white, though the faint, hot glow +still rises in them with every passing breath of air and then fades +fitfully away. + +'Captain Severi's room is ready,' said Sister Giovanna steadily. + +'Yes, of course!' The Princess nodded as she spoke. 'It is not that, +Sister. He is a great friend of mine and I was quite devoted to his +unfortunate brother, so I have come to beg that he may have the very +best care while he is here.' + +'You need not have any anxiety.' + +Sister Giovanna sat bolt upright in her straight chair, with her hands +folded on her knees. The Princess rested one elbow on the table, in an +easy attitude, and glanced at her once or twice during the silence +that followed. Each was wondering whether the other was going to admit +that she recognised her, and each was weighing the relative advantages +of remaining on the present footing, which was one of uncertainty for +Sister Giovanna and of armed quiescence on the Princess's part. + +'Thank you,' said the latter, after a long time, with a bright smile, +as if she had quite understood the nun's answer. 'It will be such a +comfort to know that he is being well cared for, poor fellow. I +believe he will be here in a few minutes.' + +'We are expecting him,' answered the nun, not stirring. + +Another long silence followed, and she sat so perfectly still that the +Princess began to fidget, looked at the tall old clock in the corner +and then compared her pretty watch with it, laid her olive-green +parasol across the table, but took it off again almost immediately and +dropped the tip to the floor. The Sister's impassive stillness seemed +meant for a reproach and made her nervous. The certainty that the +motionless woman opposite her was Angela, calmly declining to know +her, was very disagreeable. She tried the excuse of pretending in her +thoughts that there was still a reasonable doubt about it, but she +could no longer succeed; yet to address her niece by her baptismal +name would be to acknowledge herself finally beaten in the contest of +coolness, after having at first succeeded in making her adversary +change colour. + +The ticking of the clock was so distinct that it made an echo in the +high hall; the morning sun streamed across the pavement, from the +cloistered garden the chirping of a few sparrows and the sharper +twitter of the house-swallow that had already nested under the eaves +sounded very clearly through the closed glass door. + +The Princess could not bear the silence any longer, and she looked at +Sister Giovanna with a rather pinched smile. + +'My dear Angela,' she said, 'there is really no reason why we should +keep up this absurd little comedy any longer, is there?' + +The nun did not betray the least surprise at the sudden question. + +'If you have no reason for it, I have none,' she answered, but her +gaze was so steady that the Princess looked away. 'I prefer to be +called Sister Giovanna, however,' she added, after an instant's pause. + +The Princess, though not always courageous, was naturally overbearing +and rather quarrelsome, and her temper rose viciously as soon as the +restraint which an artificial situation had imposed was removed. + +'I really think you should not have kept me in doubt so long,' she +said. 'After playing nurse to me in my own house, you can hardly have +taken me for another person. But as for you, your dress has changed +you so completely, and you look so much older than any one would have +thought possible, that you need not be surprised if I was not quite +sure it was really you!' + +Her niece listened unmoved. A trained nurse, even if she be a nun, may +learn a good deal about human nature in five years, and Sister +Giovanna was naturally quick to perceive and slow to forget. She +understood now, much better than the Princess supposed. + +'I am not at all surprised,' she said, almost smiling, 'and it cannot +possibly matter.' + +The older woman began to think that her recollections of what she +thought she had said in her delirium were nothing more than the record +of a dream, but the fear of having betrayed herself still haunted her, +although four months had passed, and the present opportunity of +setting her mind at rest might not return. Rather than let it slip +away she would be bold, if not brave. + +'And besides,' she said, as if finishing her last speech, 'I believe I +was more or less delirious during most of the time that you were with +me. Was I not?' + +Sister Giovanna was sorely tempted to speak out. But though it would +be so easy to humiliate the woman who had injured her, it looked too +much like vengeance; and she remembered how she had told the sick +woman that she forgave, with all her heart, meaning what she said, but +it had been hard to keep the passion-flower of forgiveness from fading +as soon as it had opened. + +'You were rather quiet on the whole,' she answered with truth, and so +calmly that the Princess was relieved. 'I wish all my patients were as +submissive.' + +'Really? How delightful! No one ever said I was a submissive person, I +am sure!' + +'You were very much so. And now, since your friend has not come yet, +and you will wish to wait for him, I must ask you to let me leave you, +for I am on duty and must not stay here too long. Should you like to +see the Mother Superior?' + +Sister Giovanna rose as she spoke, for though she was sure of herself +after making the first effort, she did not mean to tell an untruth if +her aunt asked a still more direct question; she was well aware, too, +that she had turned very pale at the first mention of Giovanni, and +she did not intend to expose herself to any further surprises which +her enemy might be planning. + +The Princess was disappointed now, and was not satisfied with having +so greatly diminished her own anxiety. She felt that she had come into +contact with a force which she could not hope to overcome, because it +did not proceed only from Angela's own strength of character, but was +backed by a power that was real though it was invisible. It is hard to +express what I mean, but those will understand who have personally +found themselves opposed by a member of any regular order whom they +wish to influence. It has been well said that there is no such +obstacle in life as the inert resistance of a thoroughly lazy man; but +in certain circumstances that is far inferior to the silent opposition +of a conscientious person belonging to a large body which declines, on +grounds of belief rather than of logic, to enter into any argument. +That was what Princess Chiaromonte felt. + +She rose from her chair a moment after her niece had stood up. + +'Thank you,' she said. 'I will wait here, if I may.' + +'You are welcome.' + +Sister Giovanna made a slight inclination of the head and left the +hall at once. When she was gone her aunt did not resume her seat, but +walked slowly up and down, and twice, as she reached the door that led +to the wards, she stood still for a second and smiled. It was all very +well to be as strong as Angela, she reflected, and to have a great +religious order behind one, supported by the whole body of the Roman +Catholic and Apostolic Church; and it was a fine thing to have so much +character, and such a beautiful, grave face, and solemn, saintly eyes; +but it showed weakness to turn as white as a sheet at the mention of a +man's name, though he might be dead, and in a few minutes it would be +a satisfaction to note the signs of inward distress when the grave +supervising nurse came face to face with the brother of the man she +had loved. + +That was what the Princess was thinking of when she heard the distant +gate-bell tinkling, and stopped once more in her walk, preparing +herself to receive Ugo Severi with an expression of cordiality and +affectionate concern. + +The portress opened the door into the hall and a confused sound of +voices came from the passage. The Princess started slightly and then +smiled, reflecting that she had never noticed the resemblance between +Ugo's tone and poor Giovanni's. + +Doctor Pieri entered first, tall, grave, fair-bearded, and he was +looking back to be sure that the orderlies were careful. They followed +him closely, bringing Captain Ugo in a chair in which he sat upright +with his injured foot lying on a raised rest before him and a rug from +the motor car over his knees. He wore a covert coat and a grey felt +hat. + +The Princess went forward with a bright smile, looking into his face. + +'I have seen the head nurse,' she said, 'and you are to have the best +room in the hospital, and all sorts of extra care.' + +Ugo said something as the orderlies set down the chair, but almost at +the same moment the Princess heard another voice. It was hard and +cold, and did not match the words it spoke. + +'You have been extremely kind,' said Giovanni Severi. + +She had fairly good nerves, and had been in a very small measure +prepared for the surprise by having heard him talking in the passage, +though in a very different tone; but she started and gasped audibly as +she looked up and met his resentful eyes. + +'Giovanni!' she cried in amazement. 'Is it you? Are you alive?' + +But she had no doubt about it, in spite of the heavy beard that hid +the lower part of his face. + +'Oh, yes,' he answered rather coldly. 'Quite alive, thank you.' + +She held out her hand now, but it was shaking when he took it. Doctor +Pieri looked on in some surprise, but said nothing. One of the +orderlies rang the bell that summoned the supervising nurse. + +'Where have you been all these years?' asked the Princess. 'Why have +you never written to your friends?' + +'That is a long story,' Giovanni answered, in the same tone as before. +'If you happen to be on friendly terms with the Ministry, you will be +doing the Government a service by not speaking of my return till it is +made public.' + +'How mysterious!' The Princess was recovering from her surprise. + +Ugo looked from one to the other, watching their faces. It was quite +clear that his brother disliked the middle-aged woman of the world +now, whatever their relations had been in the past, and from her +behaviour when she had recognised him it looked as if the two must +have once been very intimate. + +'What are we waiting for?' asked the Captain cheerfully, in order to +break off the conversation. + +'The supervising nurse,' answered Pieri. 'She will be here directly.' + +'A nun, I suppose,' observed Giovanni carelessly. 'Old and hideous +too, no doubt. Poor Ugo!' + +'Not so much to be pitied as you think,' said the Princess. 'She is +still young, and must have been very pretty! She is worth looking at, +I assure you.' + +Her own astonishment and recent emotion were already forgotten in the +pleasure of looking forward to the recognition which must take place +within a few moments. She had hated her niece long and unrelentingly, +and she had never forgiven Giovanni for what she called in her heart +his betrayal; but the reckoning was to be settled in full at last, and +she knew that if Sister Giovanna could choose, she would rather pay it +with her flesh and blood than meet what was before her now. + +Giovanni was looking towards the door when the nun opened it, and the +strong morning light fell full on her face as she came forward. +Naturally enough, her eyes were at first turned downwards towards +Ugo's face, for she had already seen the Princess and Pieri was a +familiar figure. She was aware that a bearded officer was standing on +the other side of the chair, but she did not look at him. + +Giovanni's expression changed quickly; at first he saw only a strong +likeness to Angela, a striking resemblance that made him wonder +whether the nun could possibly be an elder sister of hers, of whom he +had never heard; but by quick degrees he became sure that it was +herself. She spoke to the wounded man. + +'Shall we go up to your room at once?' she asked in her soft voice, +bending over him. + +Before Ugo could answer, a name he did not know rang out, in a tone he +had never heard. He did not recognise his brother's voice, it was so +full of passion and joy, mingled with amazement, yet trembling with +anxiety. + +'Angela!' + +Sister Giovanna straightened herself with a spring and stood +transfixed, facing Giovanni. The chair was between them. In an +instant, that was an age to both, sharp lines furrowed her brow, her +cheeks grew hollow, and her pale, parted lips were distorted with +pain. Her face was like the Virgin Mother's, at the foot of the Cross. + +It was only for a moment; she threw up her arms, stiff and straight, +as a man who is shot through the heart. One loud cry then, and she +fell backwards. + +Pieri was in time and caught her before her head struck the pavement; +but though he was strong and she was slightly made, the impetus of her +fall dragged him down upon one knee. Giovanni could not reach her at +once, for the hospital chair with the bars by which it was carried was +between them and the foremost of the orderlies stood exactly in his +way. He almost knocked the man over as he dashed forwards. + +The Princess was already bending over the unconscious Sister, with +every appearance of profound sympathy; she was trying to loosen the +wimple and gorget that confined the nun's cheeks and throat too +closely, but the fastenings were unfamiliar and she could not find +them. Giovanni, pale and determined, pushed her aside as he stooped to +lift the woman he loved. Pieri helped him, and the Princess rose and +stepped back to look on, now that she had shown her willingness to be +of use. Ugo gazed at the scene with wide, astonished eyes, turning +half round in his chair and grasping its arms to hold himself in the +position. + +'Open the glass door!' said the Doctor to the nearest orderly. + +They carried Sister Giovanna into the cloistered garden, towards the +stone seat by the well, where the three old nuns used to sit in the +afternoon. Before they reached the place, she opened her eyes and met +Giovanni's, already haggard with fear for her, but brightening wildly +as her consciousness returned; for he had believed that she had fallen +dead before him. + +Even through the closed glass doors the Mother Superior had heard her +cry and known her voice, for the window had been open to the April +sunshine. The Mother could be swift when there was need, and she was +downstairs and at the well almost as soon as the two men could get +there, walking slowly with their burden. Exerting a strength that +amazed them, she took the young nun into her arms and sat down with +her, and laid the drooping head tenderly to her heart. Her own face +was as still and white as marble, but neither Giovanni nor Pieri saw +her eyes. + +'You may go,' she said. 'I will take care of her.' + +In the presence of the strange officer she would not ask the Doctor +what had happened. + +'She fainted suddenly,' he said. + +'Yes. I understand. Leave her to me.' + +Pieri saw that Giovanni could not move of his own free will; so he +passed his arm through the young man's and whispered in his ear while +he drew him away. + +'You must obey for the present,' he said. 'She is in no danger.' + +For he had understood the truth at once, as was easy enough; and +Giovanni went with him, looking back again and again and unable to +speak, not yet knowing all. + +When the Princess had seen the Mother Superior crossing the garden, +she had drawn back within the door, and the Doctor shut it when +Giovanni had come in. The woman of the world had believed that she +could still face the man after what she had done, and perhaps find +words that would hurt him; but when she saw his eyes, she was +frightened, for she had known him well. When he went straight towards +her she made one step backwards, in bodily fear of him; but he spoke +quietly and not rudely. + +'It was your duty to warn us both,' he said. + +That was all, but he stood looking at her, and her fright grew; for +men who live long in the wilderness gather a strength that may inspire +terror when they come back to the world. The Princess turned from him +without answering, and left the hall. + +One of the orderlies had called another nurse from within, and Ugo was +taken to his room, still surprised, but already understanding, as +Pieri did. The latter soon took his leave, the nurse followed him for +instructions, and the brothers were alone together. + +'When I left her,' Giovanni said, 'we were engaged to be married. I +wrote to her just before I sailed, but she has not received the letter +yet.' + +'What shall you do?' asked Ugo, watching him with sympathy. + +'Do? Marry her, of course! Do you suppose I have changed my mind?' + +'But she is evidently a nun,' objected Ugo. 'She must have taken +irrevocable vows. These nurses are not like Sisters of Charity, I +believe, who make their promise for a year only and then are free +during one night, to decide whether they will renew it.' + +Giovanni Severi laughed, but not lightly, nor carelessly, nor +scornfully. It was the short, energetic laughter of a determined man +who does not believe anything impossible. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +After a long time, Sister Giovanna lifted her head very slowly, sat +up, and passed her hand over her eyes, while the Mother Superior still +kept one arm round her, thinking that she might faint again at any +moment. But she did not. + +'Thank you,' she said, with difficulty. 'You are very good to me, +Mother. I think I can walk now.' + +'Not yet.' + +The elder woman's hand was on her wrist, keeping her in her seat. + +'I must go back to my work,' she said, but not much above a whisper. + +'Not yet. When you are better, you must come to my room for a little +while and rest there.' + +Sister Giovanna looked old then, for her face was grey and the deep +lines of suffering were like furrows of age; she seemed much older +than Mother Veronica, who was over forty. A minute or two passed and +she made another effort, and this time the Mother helped her. She was +weak but not exactly unsteady; her feet were like leaden weights that +she had to lift at every step. + +When they were alone in the small room and the door was shut, the +Mother Superior closed the window, too; for the cloister was very +resonant and voices carried far. She made Sister Giovanna sit in the +old horse-hair easy-chair, leaning her head against the round black +and white worsted cushion that was hung across the back by a cotton +cord. She herself sat in the chair she used at her writing-table. + +She did not know what had happened in the hall, but what she saw told +her that the Sister's fainting fit had not been due only to a passing +physical weakness. She herself seemed to be suffering when she spoke, +and not one of all the many Sisters and novices who had come to her in +distress, at one time or another, had ever seen her so much touched by +pity, so humane, forbearing, and kind. + +'If you would like me to understand what has happened, my dear child, +you can trust me,' she said. 'If you would rather keep your secret, +tell me if I can help you.' + +Sister Giovanna looked at her gratefully and tried to speak, but it +was hard; not that she was choking, or near to shedding tears, but her +lips felt stiff and cold, like a dying man's, and would not form +words. But presently they came at intervals, one by one, though not +distinctly, and so low that it was not easy to hear them. + +Yet Mother Veronica understood. Giovanni Severi, the man Angela had +loved, the man who had been called dead for five years--he had come +back from death--she had seen him with his brother--he had known her. + +She was not going to faint again, but she sank forward, bending almost +double, her hands on the arms of the chair, her young head bowed with +woe. There was something awful in her suffering, now that she was +silent. + +The Mother Superior only said three words, but her voice broke as she +pronounced the last. + +'My poor child----' + +Her lips were livid, but she ruled the rising storm and sat quite +still, her fingers twisted together and straining on her knee. If +Sister Giovanna had looked up, she would have wondered how mere +sympathy could be so deep and stirring. But she could not; her own +struggle was too desperate. Minutes passed before she spoke again, and +then there was a change in her, for her voice was much more steady. + +'It was so easy to be good when he was dead.' + +She had been happy an hour ago, yesterday, last week, working and +waiting for the blessed end, believing that he had died to serve his +country and that God would let him meet her in heaven. Why had he come +back now, too late for earth, but a lifetime too soon for heaven? It +had been so easy to be strong and brave and faithful for his sake, +when he was dead. It was little enough that she had said, but each +word had meant a page of her life. Mother Veronica heard, and she +understood. + +'Pray,' she said, after a long time; and her voice came as from very +far away, for she too had told her story in that one syllable. + +Human nature turned upon her, rebellious, with a rending cry. + +'I cannot! He is alive! He is here! Don't you understand? How can I +pray? For what? That he may die again? God of mercy! And if not that, +can I pray to be free? Free? Free from what? Free to do what? To die? +Not even that! Others will be taken, but I shall live--thirty, forty, +fifty years, knowing that he is alive--knowing that I may see him any +day!' + +The elder woman's white fingers twined round each other more +desperately, for Sister Giovanna's face was turned full to her now, +and their eyes were meeting; the young nun's were fierce with pain, +but the Mother's were strangely lustreless and dull. + +'No,' she said, mechanically answering the last words, 'you must not +see him.' + +'Not see him once?' + +Sister Giovanna leaned far forwards, grasping the arms of the +easy-chair, and her voice came thick and hoarse. Did the woman with the +marble face think that she, too, was made of stone? Not see the man she +had loved, who had been suddenly, violently dead, who was alive again, +and had come back to her? The Mother could not be in earnest! If she +was, why did she not answer now? Why was she sitting there, with that +strange look, silently wringing her hands? + +Even in her cruel distress Sister Giovanna felt a sort of wonder. +Perhaps the Mother had not meant what she said, and would not speak +lest she should contradict herself. The mere thought was a hope; +whether for good or evil the tortured girl knew not, but it loosed her +tongue. + +'He will come to me!' she cried. 'He will, I tell you! You do not know +him! Did you hear his voice as I did when he called me? Did you see +his face? Could walls or bars keep such a man from the woman he loves? +I must face him myself, and to face him I must kill something in +me--cut it out, tear it up from its roots--I am only a woman after all! +A nun can be a woman still, a weak woman, who has loved a man very, +very dearly----' + +'Oh, Angela, hush! For the love of Heaven, my child, my child!' + +To Sister Giovanna's unspeakable amazement, the unbending nature was +breaking down, the marble saint, with the still white face, who had +bidden her pray, and never see Giovanni again. She felt herself lifted +from her seat and clasped in a despairing embrace; she felt the small +nervous frame shaking in the storm of an emotion she could not +understand, though she knew it was as great as her own and as terrible +to bear, and that the heart that beat against hers was breaking, too. + +Neither shed a tear; tears would have been heavenly refreshment, but +they would not come. Another moment and Angela felt herself sinking +back into her chair, and when she opened her eyes the Mother Superior +was at the table, half seated, half lying across it, on the heaps of +papers and account-books, and her outstretching hands clasped the foot +of the old crucifix beside the leaden inkstand. + +'Miserere mei, Domine!' + +The voice of her prayer broke the stillness like a silver bell. Then +she began to recite the greatest of the penitential psalms. + +'Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord: Lord, hear my +voice.' + +And by long habit, yet with some dim hope of peace, Sister Giovanna +responded: + +'Let Thine ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications.' + +They said it to the end, verse answering verse, and the prayer of the +King-Poet stilled the throbbing of hurts too deep to heal. + +Two hours after she had fainted in the hall, Sister Giovanna was doing +her work in the hospital again as usual. A wonderful amount of +physical resistance can be got out of moral conviction, and there is +no such merciful shelter for mental distress as a uniform, from the +full dress of a field-marshal to a Sister of Charity's cornet. + +Of the persons who had been witnesses of the scene, the Doctor and Ugo +Severi could be trusted, and Princess Chiaromonte was too much afraid of +Giovanni to brew gossip about his love-affair. There remained the two +orderlies, who could not be prevented from telling the story to their +wives and friends if they liked; but they were trusty, middle-aged men +of good character; they shared the affectionate admiration for Sister +Giovanna which almost every one in the Convent hospital felt for her, +and they would be the very last to say a word to her discredit. These +circumstances account well enough for the fact that the story did not +get into the newspapers at the time. + +Sister Giovanna went back to her work, but she did not go near Ugo +Severi, and she gave strict orders that his brother, if he came to see +him again during the day, was to be accompanied to the door of the +room by an orderly. As Ugo had swallowed nothing but a cup of black +coffee before coming to the hospital, and was therefore in a condition +to take ether, Pieri had given notice that he would operate on the +injured foot at two o'clock. There would be no need for the presence +of the supervising nurse, who would have no difficulty in keeping out +of Giovanni's way for the present, as he would certainly not be +allowed to roam the hospital in search of her. + +She meant to meet him once and alone, no matter how she might be +hindered, and nothing that the Mother Superior or Monsignor +Saracinesca could say should make it impossible. She knew that he +would try every means of seeing her, and when he succeeded in making +an opportunity which she could accept, she would take it, come what +might; till then, she must wait, and while she was waiting she would +find the strength she needed. + +That was her plan, and it was simple enough. She might be mistaken +about many questions, but nothing could make that seem wrong which her +conscience told her was right. And it was right to see him once; she +was sure of it. The rest was confused and uncertain and she took no +thought what she should say; she only knew she must make him +understand, though it would be hard, and when that was done, she would +not see him again while she lived. + +She meant to make that final parting a certainty by going to Rangoon +with the next mission; nothing should change her determination now. + +Her feet were heavy that day, and her voice was dull and muffled when +she gave her orders; but she made no mistakes. Many a man has fought +more stubbornly and bravely after a wound and a fall than at the +outset, and few men could tell themselves that they were braver than +Sister Giovanna was when she recovered control of her actions after +the first stunning shock. + +She stayed in her office as much of the time as possible. In due +course the assistant head-nurse came to report that Pieri had finished +his work and that Captain Ugo had recovered well from the ether; his +brother was with him and would stay till eight o'clock, the hour at +which all visitors were required to leave the hospital except in cases +of extreme danger. Sister Giovanna nodded and wrote a few lines in the +day-book. + +It was then half-past three. Clearly Giovanni's plan was to spend as +many hours as possible under the roof, in the hope of seeing her; for +though the operation had been a long one, requiring the skill of a +great surgeon to perform it well, Ugo was in no danger from it, and it +might be supposed that a man who had just come back from such an +experience as Giovanni had lived through would wish to see a few old +friends on the first day of his return, or would be obliged, at the +very least, to attend to some necessary business. Sister Giovanna did +not know that his return was being purposely kept a secret from the +public press, and that he was far safer from reporters while he stayed +in the Convent hospital than he could be in his lodging. + +At five o'clock the door of her office opened, and to her surprise she +saw Monsignor Saracinesca standing before her, hat in hand. She could +not remember that she had ever seen him there before, but it was an +office, after all, and there was no reason why he should not come to +it if he had business with her. She rose to receive him. He shut the +door, which was the only one, bowed gravely, and took one of the two +spare rush-bottomed chairs and seated himself, before he spoke. + +'The Mother Superior sent for me,' he said, 'and I have been with her +an hour. She has asked me to come to you. Are you at leisure?' + +'Unless I am called. I am on duty.' + +He noticed the muffled tone and the slowness of her speech. She sat +facing him, on the other side of the plain table, her open report-book +before her. + +'You will not blame the Mother Superior for sending me, Sister. She is +in the deepest distress for you. You must have seen that, when you +spoke with her this morning.' + +'She was more than kind.' + +Monsignor Saracinesca sighed, but the nun did not notice it. Now that +she knew why he had come, she needed all her strength and courage +again. + +He went on quietly with his short explanation. Mother Veronica had +told him of what had happened in the hall; he had known the rest long +ago from Sister Giovanna herself. That was the substance, and he +wasted no words. Then he paused, and she knew what was coming next, +for he would speak of a possible meeting; but how he would regard that +she could not guess, and she waited steadily for the blow if it was to +be one. + +'The Mother Superior thinks that you should not see him,' he said. + +'I know. She told me so.' + +'I do not agree with her,' said Monsignor Saracinesca slowly. + +The nun turned her face from the afternoon light, but said nothing; +with the greatest sacrifice of her life before her she should not feel +joy rising like the dawn in her eyes, at the mere thought of seeing +the man whose love she must renounce. + +'We are human,' said the churchman, 'and our victories must be human, +to be worth anything. It was in His humanity that Christ suffered and +overcame. It is not victory to slink from the fight and shut oneself +up in a fortress that is guarded by others. Men and women must be good +men and women in this world if they hope to be saints hereafter, and +there is no such thing as inactive goodness.' + +Sister Giovanna looked at him again, but still she did not speak. + +'Though I am a priest,' continued Monsignor Saracinesca, 'I am a man +of the world in the sense of having belonged to it, and I now live +less apart from it than I could wish, though it is not such a +thoroughly bad place as those say who do not know it. I do not feel +that I got rid of all obligations to those who still belong to it when +I was ordained, and I do not think that when you took the veil in a +working order, you dropped all obligation to the persons with whom you +had lived till then. In doing so, you might be depriving some one else +of a right.' + +Sister Giovanna listened to this exposition in silence and tried to +follow it. + +'In my opinion,' the prelate went on, 'Giovanni Severi has a just +claim to see you. I speak under authority and I may be wrong, but it +can only be a matter of judgment and of opinion, and since your Mother +Superior has asked for mine, I give it as well as I can. You are not a +cloistered nun, Sister. There is no reason why you should not receive +a friend whom you have believed to be dead for years and who has +unexpectedly come back to life.' + +'Back to the life I left for his sake!' + +Again she looked away from the light, but her face could not turn +whiter than it was. + +'It was terribly sudden,' said Monsignor Saracinesca, after a moment's +pause. 'You will no doubt wait a few days before seeing him, till you +feel quite able to face what must be a very painful interview.' + +'I am not afraid of it now. I was weak when we recognised each other. +I cannot quite remember--I heard him call me and I saw his eyes----' + +'And you must have fainted. You were carried out to the well at once.' + +'Who carried me?' asked the nun quickly. + +'Doctor Pieri and Giovanni Severi.' + +She made a slight movement. + +'He carried me!' + +She spoke almost unconsciously, and a very faint glow rose through her +paleness, as when white glass is warmed an instant in the mouth of the +furnace and then drawn back and quickly cooled again. + +'Shall I talk with him before you meet?' asked the churchman +presently. + +Sister Giovanna did not answer at once; she seemed to be thinking. + +'You know better than any one what my life has been,' she said at +last. 'It was to you that I went for advice five years ago, and again +before I took the veil. If you had thought it even distantly possible +that he might be alive, you would not have let me take final vows.' + +'Heaven forbid!' answered Monsignor Saracinesca very earnestly. + +'Though I believed him dead, you knew that I loved him with all my +heart.' + +'Yes. As dearly as when you had last seen him alive.' + +'I love him still. Is that wrong?' + +'No.' + +He said the word without hesitation, in all sincerity and true +conviction, but the nun had expected another answer; a quick movement +of the head showed that she was surprised. + +'Are you sure?' she asked in a low and wondering tone. + +'Yes, because I am sure that your love for him is as innocent as it +ever was. The religious life is not meant to kill human affection. +Saint Benedict loved his sister Scholastica devotedly; Saint Francis +was probably more sincerely attached to Saint Clare than to any living +person.' + +'I only know that I love him as dearly as ever,' said Sister Giovanna. + +The churchman looked at her keenly for a moment, and she did not avoid +his eyes. + +'Would you break your vows for him?' he asked, with sudden directness. + +The nun started as if he had struck her and half rose from her chair. + +'Break my vows?' she cried, her eyes blazing with indignation. + +But Monsignor Saracinesca only nodded and laid his thin hand flat on +the table, towards her. She sank to her seat again. + +'Then I know that, although you may love him more than any one in the +world, you do not love him better than the work you have promised to +do.' + +'Heaven forbid!' + +He had used the very same expression a few moments earlier, but with a +different tone; for him it had been an asseveration of good faith, but +with her it was more like a prayer. She had resented his question as +if it had been an insult, but when he showed how much he trusted her, +she began to distrust herself. She would die the martyr's death rather +than break her vows in deed, but she was too diffident of her own +womanhood not to fear a fall from the dignity of heartfelt resignation +to the inward ignominy of an earthly regret. Besides, 'the work she +had promised to do' had been promised for his sake, not for its own; +not for any gain to her soul, but in the earnest hope that it might +profit his, by God's mercy. Since he was not dead, but alive, the +chief purpose of it died with his return to life. She did not love the +work she had promised to do more than she loved him; that was not +true, and never had been. All had been for him--her vow, her work, and +her prayers. Heaven forbid, indeed, that she should now set him before +them; yet it was hard not to do so and there was only one possible +way; in a changed sense they must be given for him still, and for his +salvation, else she could not give at all. + +Monsignor Saracinesca had watched her progress from her noviciate to +her present position of responsibility, and had often spoken of her +with the Mother Superior. He would not have advised every nun to do +what he thought best in her case. There was not another in the +community, except the Mother herself, whom he would have trusted so +fully. But, being what she was, his honourable sense of justice to a +man who had suffered much and must suffer more impelled him to act as +he did. As he himself said, it was a matter of opinion and judgment, +and his own approved the course. Those may blame him who think +otherwise, but no one can find fault with Sister Giovanna for +following his advice; she had a right to believe that it was the best, +and as for herself, she had never hesitated. The mere suggestion that +she should not see Giovanni at least once and alone looked to her +outrageous and contrary to all sense, as perhaps it was. + +Monsignor Saracinesca would see him first and arrange the meeting. He +thought it should take place in the cloistered garden. + +'Why not here, in my office?' asked the nun. + +But the churchman objected. If the two were to talk together, out of +hearing, they must not be out of sight. Never, under any +circumstances, should any one be able to say that there had been any +secrecy about their interview. He himself would bring Giovanni to the +place and the Mother Superior would accompany the nun. He and the +Mother would withdraw into the hall and wait until Sister Giovanna +dismissed Severi. The Mother would then join her, and Monsignor +Saracinesca would go away with Giovanni. + +In order to forestall evil speaking more effectually, the two should +meet on the afternoon of the day on which the nun's week of duty as +supervising nurse came to an end. On that evening she would go away to +nurse a private case, and before that patient was recovered, Ugo +Severi would certainly be well enough to go home, and Giovanni's daily +visits to the hospital would have ceased. It would thus be easy to +prove that after their only interview, in what might be called a +public place, they had not been within the same walls at the same +time. + +No one who has watched the politics of the so-called 'socialist' party +in Rome during the past twenty years will wonder at these precautions +nor even call them exaggerated. To all intents and purposes the +'Vatican question' has ceased to exist; the Italian Government may +fairly be said to be at peace with the Church; the old bitterness may +survive amongst certain prejudiced people, chiefly in small towns, but +the spirit of this time is a spirit of good-will and mutual +forbearance, and the forces that were once so fiercely opposed +actually work together for the common good in many more cases than the +world knows of. The first article of the Italian Constitution states +that the religion of the Kingdom is that of the Roman Catholic Church; +it is, and it will continue to be, and no attempt will ever be made on +the part of the Monarchy to change or to cancel that opening clause. +The danger to which the Church is exposed lies in another quarter, and +threatens not only the Church, but Christianity in all its forms; not +only Christianity, but the Monarchy; and not the Monarchy only, but +all constitutional and civilised government. It is anarchy; and though +it boasts itself to be socialism, true socialists disclaim it and its +doings and all its opinions. If it can be so far honoured as to be +counted as a party, it is the party that murdered King Humbert, that +assassinated the Empress of Austria, and that would sooner or later +kill the Pope, if he left the safe refuge which some persons still +insist on calling his prison. + +It is the party that continually spies upon all religious and +charitable institutions in Rome, and does not hesitate to invent +stories of crime outright when it fails to detect one of those little +flaws which its press magnifies to stains of abomination. + +Monsignor Saracinesca understood these things better than the others +concerned, and at least as well as any one in Rome. As for Giovanni, +he had known him a little in former days and took him to be a man of +honour, who would submit to any conditions necessary for protecting +the nun from calumny. But he could hardly believe that the young +officer's feelings had undergone no change in five years, for he +judged men as most men judge each other. It was one thing to fall in +love with a charming young girl in her first season; it was quite +another to love her faithfully for five years, without ever seeing her +or hearing from her, and to feel no disappointment on finding her as +much changed as Angela was now, pale, sorrow-worn, and of no +particular age. The true bloom of youth is something real, but it +rarely lasts more than two years; it is as subtle and indescribable as +the bloom of growing roses, which is gone within an hour after they +are cut, though their beauty may be preserved for many days. There was +the nun's habit, too, and the veil and wimple, proclaiming another and +a greater change from which there was no return. + +Ippolito Saracinesca had never been in love, even in his early youth; it +was no wonder that he was mistaken in such a man as Giovanni Severi. The +only danger he reckoned with lay in Sister Giovanna's own heart, and he +felt that he could count on her courage, her self-respect, and most of +all on her profoundly religious nature. No danger is ever overcome +without danger, said Mimos. In the case of such a woman it was better, +for her sake, to accept such risk as there might be in a single +interview which must be decisive and final, than to let her live on +haunted by disturbing memories and harassed by regret. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +It was raining when Giovanni and Monsignor Saracinesca rang at the +door of the Convent. The Mother Superior had ordered two rush-bottomed +chairs to be brought out of the hall and placed under the shelter of +the cloister just on one side of the glass door; for Sister Giovanna +was to receive a visit, as she explained, from an officer who had +known her father and had business with her. Such things had happened +before in the community, and the lay sister was not surprised. She +carried the chairs out and set them in what she considered a proper +position, about two yards apart and both facing the garden. The rain +fell softly and steadily, the sky was of an even dove-grey, and the +smell of the damp earth and the early spring flowers filled the +cloister. + +Giovanni was a soldier and would impose his military punctuality upon +the prelate, who, like most churchmen, had a clearer idea of eternity +than of definite time. As the Convent clock was striking, therefore, +the Mother Superior and Sister Giovanna came down the narrow stairs, +for they had been together a quarter of an hour, though they had +scarcely exchanged half-a-dozen words. They walked slowly round under +the vaulted cloister, the Mother on the right, the nun on the left, +according to the rigid custom, and they had just turned the last +corner and were in sight of the two chairs when the glass door opened. + +Monsignor Saracinesca's voice was heard. + +'Remember what I have said. I trust you, and you know that the +cloister is open to every one.' + +'Yes,' Giovanni answered, as both appeared on the threshold. + +They saw the two nuns already near and made a few steps to meet them. +Monsignor Saracinesca greeted the Mother, who bent her head as she +answered him; Giovanni stood still, his eyes fixed on Angela's face. +But she looked steadily down at the flagstones, and her hands were +hidden under the broad scapular of white cloth that hung straight down +from under her gorget to her feet. + +There are no awkward silences when churchmen or nuns meet, still less +if the meeting takes place by appointment, for each knows exactly what +he or she is expected to say and says it, deliberately and without +hesitation. In less than a minute after they had met, the Mother and +Monsignor Saracinesca entered the hall together and closed the glass +door after them. The soldier and the nun were face to face at last. + +As soon as Giovanni heard the door shut he made one step forward and +stretched out both his hands, thinking to take hers. She made no +movement, but raised her eyes, and when he saw them, they were still +and dull. Then she slowly held out her right hand, and it was cold and +inert when he took it. She drew back at once and sat down, and he took +the other chair, bringing it a little nearer, and turning it so that +he could see her. He was cruelly disappointed, but he was the first to +speak. + +'I thought you were glad to know that I am alive,' he said coldly, +'but I see that you were only frightened, the other day. I am sorry to +have startled you.' + +She steadied herself before answering. + +'Yes, I was startled. Your letter did not reach me till afterwards.' + +The garden was whirling before her as if she were being put under +ether, and the little twisted columns that upheld the arches of the +cloister chased each other furiously, till she thought she was going +to fall from her chair. She could not hear what he said next, for a +surging roar filled her ears as when the surf breaks at an angle on a +long beach and sounds one deep, uninterrupted note. He was explaining +why the mail steamer had not reached Italy several days before him, +but she did not understand; she only knew when he ceased speaking. + +'It is the inevitable--always the inevitable,' she said, making a +desperate effort and yet not saying anything she wished to say. + +But her tone told him how deeply she was moved, and his fiery energy +broke out. + +'Nothing is inevitable!' he cried. 'There is nothing that cannot be +undone, if I can live to undo it!' + +That was not what she expected, if she expected anything, but it +brought back her controlling self that had been dazed and wandering +and had left her almost helpless. She started and turned her face full +to his, but drawing back in her chair. + +'What do you mean?' she asked. + +'Angela!' + +The appeal of love was in his voice, as he bent far forward, but she +raised her hand in warning. + +'No, "Sister Giovanna," please,' she said, checking him, though +gently. + +He felt the slight rebuke, and remembered that the place was public to +the community. + +'It was not by chance that you took my name with the veil,' he said, +almost in a whisper. 'Did you love me then?' + +'I believed that you had been dead two years,' answered the nun +slowly. + +'But did you love me still, when I was dead?' + +'Yes.' + +She did not lower her voice, for she was not ashamed, but she looked +down. He forgot her rebuke, and called her by her old name again, that +had meant life and hope and everything to him through years of +captivity. + +'Angela!' He did not heed her gesture now, nor the quick word she +spoke. 'Yes, I will call you Angela--you love me now----' + +She checked him again, with more energy. + +'Hush! If you cannot be reasonable, I shall go away!' + +'Reasonable!' + +There was contempt in his tone, but he sat upright again and said no +more. + +'Listen to me,' said Sister Giovanna, finding some strength in the +small advantage she had just gained. 'I have not let you come here in +order to torment you or cheat you, and I mean to tell you the truth. +You have a right to know it, and I still have the right to tell it, +because there is nothing in it of which I am ashamed. Will you hear me +quietly, whatever I say?' + +'Yes, I will. But I cannot promise not to answer, when you have done.' + +'There is no answer to what I am going to say. It is to be final.' + +'We shall see,' said Giovanni gravely, though with no conviction. + +But the nun was satisfied, for he was clearly willing to listen. The +meeting had disturbed her peace even more than she had expected, but +she had done her best during several days to prepare herself for it, +and had found strength to decide what she must say, and to repeat it +over and over again till she knew it by heart. + +'You were reported to be dead,' she began--'killed with the rest of +them. You had your share in the great military funeral, and I, and all +the world, believed that you were buried with your comrades. Your name +is engraved with theirs upon their tomb, in the roll of honour, as +that of a man who perished in his country's service. I went there with +Madame Bernard before I began my noviciate, and I went again, for the +last time, before I took the veil. I had loved you living and I loved +you dead.' + +Giovanni moved as if he were going to speak, but she would not let +him. + +'No, hear me!' she cried anxiously. 'I offered God my life and my +strength for your sake, and if I have done any good here in five +years, as novice and nun, it has been in the hope that it might be +accepted for you, if your soul needed it. Though you may not believe +in such things, do you at least understand me?' + +'Indeed I do, and I am grateful--most grateful.' + +She was a little disappointed by his tone, for he spoke with an +evident effort. + +'It was gladly given,' she said. 'But now you have come back to +life----' + +She hesitated. With all her courage and strength, she could not quite +control her memory, and the words she had prepared so carefully were +suddenly confused. Giovanni completed the sentence for her in his own +way. + +'I have come to life to find you dead for me, as I have been dead for +you. Is that what you were going to say?' + +She was still hesitating. + +'Was it that?' he insisted. + +'No,' she answered, at last. 'Not dead for you--alive for you.' + +He would have caught at a straw, and the joy came into his face as he +quickly held out his hand to her; but she would not take it: hers were +both hidden under her white cloth scapular and she shrank from him. +The light went out of his eyes. + +'I might have known!' he said, deeply disappointed. 'You do not mean +it. I suppose you will explain that you are alive to pray for me!' + +'You promised to listen quietly, whatever I might say.' + +'Yes.' He controlled himself. 'I will,' he added, after a moment. 'Go +on.' + +'I am not changed,' said Sister Giovanna, 'but my life is. That is +what I meant by the inevitable. No person can undo what I have +done'--Giovanni moved impatiently--'no power can loose me from my vows.' + +In spite of himself, the man's temper broke out. + +'You are mad,' he answered roughly, 'or else you do not know that you +can be free.' + +'Hush!' cried the nun, trying once more to check him. 'Your +promise--remember it!' + +'I break it! I will not listen meekly to such folly! Before you took +the vow, you had given me your word, as I gave you mine, that we would +be man and wife, and since I am not dead, no promise or oath made +after that is binding! I know that you love me still, as you did then, +and if you will not try to free yourself, then by all you believe, and +by all I honour, I will set you free!' + +It was a challenge if it was not a threat, and Sister Giovanna +defended herself as she could. But she was painfully conscious that +something in her responded with a thrill to the cry of the pursuer. +Nevertheless, she answered with a firm refusal. + +'You cannot make me do what I will not,' she said. + +'I can and I will!' he retorted vehemently. 'It is monstrous that you +should be bound by a promise made in ignorance, under a wretched +mistake, on a false report that I was dead!' + +'We were not even formally betrothed----' + +'We loved each other,' interrupted Giovanni, 'and we had told each +other so. That is enough. We belong to each other just as truly as if +we were man and wife----' + +'Even if we were,' said the nun, interrupting him in her turn, 'if I +had taken my vows in the belief that my husband had been dead for +years, I would not ask to be released!' + +He stared at her, his temper suddenly chilled in amazement. + +'But if it were a mistake,' he objected, 'if the Pope offered you a +dispensation, would you refuse it?' + +Sister Giovanna was prepared, for she had thought of that. + +'If you had given a man your word of honour to pay a debt you owed +him, would you break your promise if you suddenly found that you could +use the money in another way, which would give you the keenest +pleasure?' + +'That is quite different! How can you ask such an absurd question?' + +'It is not absurd, and the case is not so different as you think. I +have given my word to God in heaven, and I must pay my debt.' + +Giovanni was indignant again, and rebelled. + +'You used to tell me that your God was just!' + +'And I have heard you say that your only god was honour!' retorted the +nun. + +'Yes!' he answered hotly. 'It is! Honour teaches that the first promise +given must be fulfilled before all others!' + +'I have been taught that vows made to God must not be broken.' + +She rose, as if the speech were final. Though they had been talking only +a few minutes, she already felt that she could not bear much more. + +'Surely you are not going already!' he cried, starting to his feet. + +Sister Giovanna turned so that she was face to face with him. + +'What is there left to say?' she asked, with a great effort. + +'Everything! I told you that I would answer when you had finished, and +now that you have nothing left to say, you must hear me! You said you +would----' + +'I said that there could be no answer.' Nevertheless she waited, +motionless. + +'But there is! The answer is that I will free you from the slavery to +which you have sold your soul! The answer is, I love you, and it is +yourself I love, the woman you are now, not the memory of your shadow +from long ago, but you, you, your very self!' + +Half out of his mind, he tried to seize her by the arm, to draw her to +him; but he only caught her sleeve, and dropped it as she sprang back +with a lightness and maiden grace that almost drove him mad. She drew +herself up, offended and hurt. + +'Remember what I am, and where you are!' + +Giovanni's manner changed so suddenly that she would have been +suspicious, if she had not been too much disturbed to reason. She +fancied that she still controlled him. + +'You are right,' he said; 'I beg your pardon. Only tell me when I may +see you again.' + +'Not for a long time--not till you can give me your word that you will +control yourself. Till then, we must say good-bye.' + +He was so quiet, all at once, that it was easier to say the word than +she had expected. + +'No,' he answered, 'not good-bye, for even if you will not see me, I +shall be near you.' + +'Near? Where?' + +'I am living in my brother's rooms at the Magazine. I am in charge till +he gets well. I asked permission to take his place on the day I arrived, +from the Minister himself.' + +'You have taken his place!' She could not keep her anxiety out of her +voice. + +'Yes, and I hope to get a shot at the fellow who wounded Ugo. But the +post suits me, for the upper part of this house is in sight of my +windows. If you look out towards the river, you can see where I live.' + +He spoke so gently that she lingered instead of leaving him at once, as +she had meant to do. + +'And besides,' he went on, in the same tone, 'I shall come here every +day until my brother can go home. I may meet you at any moment, in going +to his room. You will not refuse to speak to me, will you?' + +He smiled. He seemed quite changed within a few moments. But she shook +her head. + +'You will not see me here again,' she answered, 'for my week's turn as +supervising nurse will be over this evening and I am going to a private +case.' + +'To-night?' Giovanni asked, with a little surprise. + +'Yes, to-night.' + +'Do you mean to say that you do not even have a day's rest after being +on duty a whole week? What a life! But they must give you a few hours, +surely! What time do you go off duty, and at what time do you go to your +new patient? I suppose they send for you?' + +'Yes, at about eight o'clock. That is the usual time, but I never know +long beforehand. Arrangements of that sort are all made by the Mother +Superior.' + +It did not seem unnatural that he should ask questions about her +occupation, now that he was calmer, nor could she think it wrong to +answer them. Any one might have listened to what they were saying. + +'I daresay you do not even know where you are going this evening?' +Giovanni said. + +She thought that he was talking only to keep her with him a little +longer. Overstrained as she had been, it was a relief to exchange a few +words quietly before parting from him. + +'It is true,' she answered, after a moment's thought. 'I daresay the +Mother Superior mentioned the name of the family, but if she did I have +forgotten it. I shall get my instructions before I leave the house, as +usual. I only know that it is a new case.' + +'Yes,' Giovanni said, as if it did not interest him further. 'All the +same, it is a shame that you should be made to work so hard! Before I +go, tell me that you have forgiven me for losing my head just now. I +think you have, but I want to hear you say so. Will you?' + +It seemed little enough to forgive. Sister Giovanna felt so much +relieved by his change of manner that she was even able to smile +faintly. If he would always be as gentle, she could perhaps ask leave to +see him again in six months. Now that the storm was over, it was a pure +and innocent happiness to be with him. + +'You will not do it again,' she said simply. 'Of course I forgive you.' + +'Thank you. It is all I can expect, since you have told me that I was +asking the impossible. You see Madame Bernard sometimes, do you not?' + +'Yes. Almost every week.' + +'She will give me news of you. I suppose I must not send you a message +by her. That would be against the rules!' + +'The message might be!' Sister Giovanna actually smiled again. 'But if +it is not, there is no reason why she should not bring me a greeting +from you.' + +'But not a letter?' + +'No. I would not take it from her. It would have to be given to the +Mother Superior. If she were willing to receive it at all, it would be +her duty to read it, and she would judge whether it should be given to +me or not.' + +'Is that the rule?' Giovanni asked, more indifferently than she had +expected. + +'Yes. It is the rule in our order. If it were not, who could prevent any +one from writing to a nun?' + +'I was not finding fault with it. I must not keep you standing here any +longer. If you will not sit down and talk a little more, I had better be +going.' + +'Yes. You have been here long enough, I think.' + +He did not press her. He was so submissive that if he had begged +permission to stay a few minutes more she would have consented, and she +wished he would, when she saw him holding out his hand to say good-bye; +but she was too well pleased at having dominated his wild temper to make +a suggestion which might betray weakness in herself. + +She took his hand and was a little surprised to find it as cold as hers +had been when he came; but his face was not pale--she forgot that five +years of Africa had bronzed it too much for paleness--and he was very +quiet and collected. She went to the door of the hall with him and +opened it before he could do so for himself. + +They parted almost like mere acquaintances, he bowing on the step, she +bending her head. The Mother Superior and Monsignor Saracinesca had been +sitting by the table, talking, but both had risen and come forward as +soon as the pair appeared outside the glass door. It all passed off very +satisfactorily, and the Mother Superior gave a little sigh of relief +when the churchman and the soldier went away together, leaving her and +Sister Giovanna standing in the hall. She felt that Monsignor +Saracinesca had been right, after all, in approving the meeting, and +that she had been mistaken in thinking that it must endanger the nun's +peace. + +She said nothing, but she was quietly pleased, and a rare, sweet smile +softened her marble features. She asked no questions about what had +passed, being quite sure that all was well, and that if there had ever +been anything to fear, it was gone. + +The prelate and Giovanni walked along the quiet street in silence for +some distance; then Severi stopped suddenly, as many Italians do when +they are going to say something important. + +'You will help me, I am sure,' he said, speaking impetuously from the +first. 'Though I never knew you well in old times, I always felt that +you were friendly. You will not allow her to ruin both our lives, will +you?' + +'What sort of help do you want from me?' asked the tall churchman, +bending his eyes to the energetic young face. + +'The simplest thing in the world!' Giovanni answered. 'We were engaged +to be married when I left with that ill-fated expedition. She thought me +dead. She must be released from her vows at once! That is all.' + +'It is out of the question,' answered Monsignor Saracinesca, with +supernal calm. + +'Out of the question?' Giovanni frowned angrily. 'Do you mean that it +cannot be done? But it is only common justice! She is as much my wife as +if you had married us and I had left her at the altar to go to Africa! +You cannot be in earnest!' + +'I am. In the first place, there is no ground for granting a +dispensation.' + +'No ground?' cried Severi indignantly. 'We loved each other, we meant to +marry! Is that no reason?' + +'No. You were not even formally betrothed, either before your parish +priest or the mayor. Without a solemn promise in the proper form and +before witnesses, there is no binding engagement to marry. That is not +only canonical law, but Italian common law, too.' + +'We had told each other,' Giovanni objected. 'That was enough.' + +'You are wrong,' answered Monsignor Saracinesca gently. 'The Church will +do nothing that the law would not do, and the law would not release +Sister Giovanna, or any one else, from a legal obligation taken under +the same circumstances as the religious one she has assumed.' + +'What do you mean?' + +'This. If, instead of becoming a nun, Angela had married another man +after you were lost, Italian law would not annul the marriage in order +that she might become your wife.' + +'Of course not!' + +'Then why should the Church annul an obligation which is quite as solemn +as marriage?' + +Giovanni thought he had caught the churchman in a fallacy. + +'I beg your pardon,' he replied. 'I was taught as a boy that marriage is +a sacrament, but I never heard that taking the veil was one!' + +'Quite right, in principle. In reality, it is considered, for women, the +equivalent of ordination, and therefore as being of the nature of a +sacrament.' + +'I am not a theologian, to discuss equivalents,' retorted Giovanni +roughly. + +'Very true, but a man who knows nothing of mathematics may safely accept +the statement of a mathematician about a simple problem. That is not the +point, however. If you remember, I said that "under the same +circumstances" the Church would not do what the law would not. The +Church considers a nun's final vows to be as binding under its +regulations as the law considers that any civil contract is. The +"circumstances" are therefore exactly similar.' + +Giovanni was no match for his cool antagonist in an argument. He cut the +discussion short by a direct question. + +'Is it in the Pope's power to release Sister Giovanna from her vows, or +not?' + +'Yes. It is--in principle.' + +'Then put your principles into practice and make him do it!' cried the +soldier rudely. + +Monsignor Saracinesca was unmoved by this attack, which he answered with +calm dignity. + +'My dear Captain,' he said, 'in the first place, no one can "make" the +Pope do things. That is not a respectful way of speaking.' + +Giovanni was naturally courteous and he felt that he had gone too far. + +'I beg your pardon,' he answered. 'I mean no disrespect to the Pope, +though I tell you frankly that I do not believe in much, and not at all +in his authority. What I ask is common justice and your help as a +friend. I ask you to go to him and lay the case before him fairly, as +before a just man, which I heartily believe him to be. You will see that +he will do what you admit is in his power and give Sister Giovanna her +dispensation.' + +'If you and she had been married before your disappearance,' argued the +churchman, 'His Holiness would assuredly not refuse. If you had been +solemnly betrothed before your parish priest as well as legally promised +in marriage at the Capitol, he might make an exception, though a civil +betrothal is valid only for six months, under Italian law. But there was +no marriage and no such engagement.' + +Giovanni found himself led into argument again. + +'We had intended to bind ourselves formally,' he objected. 'I have heard +it said by priests that everything depends on the intention and that +without it the most solemn sacrament is an empty show! Will you doubt +our intention if I give you my word that it was mine, and if Sister +Giovanna assures you that it was hers?' + +'Certainly not! The Pope would not doubt you either, I am sure.' + +'Then, in the name of all that is just and right, what is the obstacle? +If you admit that the intention is the one important point, and that it +existed, what ground have you left?' + +'That is begging the question, Captain. It is true that without the +intention a sacrament is an empty show, but the intention without the +sacrament is of no more value than intention without performance would +be in law. Less, perhaps. There is another point, however, which you +have quite overlooked. If a request for a dispensation were even to be +considered, it ought to come from Sister Giovanna herself.' + +'And you will never allow her to ask for her freedom!' cried Giovanni +angrily. 'That settles it, I suppose! Oh, the tyranny of the Church!' + +Monsignor Saracinesca's calm was not in the least disturbed by this +outbreak, and he answered with unruffled dignity. + +'That is easily said, Captain. You have just been speaking with Sister +Giovanna and I daresay you talked of this. What was her answer?' + +'She is under the influence of her surroundings, of course! What could I +expect?' + +But the churchman had a right to a more direct reply. + +'Did she refuse to listen to your suggestion that she should leave her +order?' he asked. + +Giovanni did not like to admit the fact, and paused a moment before +answering; but he was too truthful to quibble. + +'Yes, she did.' + +'What reason did she give for refusing?' + +'None!' + +'Did she merely say, "No, I will not"?' + +'You are cross-examining me!' Giovanni fancied that he had a right to be +offended. + +'No,' protested Monsignor Saracinesca, 'or at least not with the +intention of catching you in your own words. You made an unfair +assertion; I have a right to ask a fair question. If I were not a +priest, but simply Ippolito Saracinesca, and if you accused me or my +family of unjust dealings, you would be glad to give me an opportunity +of defending my position, as man to man. But because I am a priest you +deny me that right. Are you just?' + +'I did not accuse you personally,' argued the younger man. 'I meant that +the Church would never allow Sister Giovanna to ask for her freedom.' + +'The greater includes the less,' replied the other. 'The Church is my +family, it includes myself, and I claim the right to defend it against +an unjust accusation. Sister Giovanna is as free to ask for a +dispensation as you were to resign from the army when you were ordered +to join an expedition in which you nearly lost your life.' + +'You say so!' Severi was incredulous. + +'It is the truth. Sister Giovanna has devoted herself to a cause in +which she too may risk her life.' + +'The risk a nurse runs nowadays is not great!' + +'You are mistaken. If she carries out her intention, she will be exposed +to a great danger.' + +'What intention?' asked Giovanni, instantly filled with anxiety. + +'She has asked permission to join the other Sisters of the order who are +going out to Rangoon to nurse the lepers there.' + +'Lepers!' Severi's features were convulsed with horror. 'She, nurse +lepers! It is not possible! It is certain death.' + +'No, it is not certain death, by any means, but you will admit the +risk.' + +Giovanni was beside himself in an instant. + +'She shall not go!' he cried furiously. 'You shall not make her kill +herself, make her commit suicide, for your glorification--that what you +call your Church may add another martyr to its death-roll! You shall +not, I say! Do you hear me?' He grasped the prelate's arm roughly. 'If +you must have martyrs, go yourselves! Risk your own lives for your own +glory, instead of sacrificing women on your altars--women who should +live to be wives and mothers, an honour to mankind!' + +'You are utterly unjust----' + +'No, I am human, and I will not tolerate your human sacrifice! I am a +man, and I will not let the woman I love be sent to a horrible death, to +delight your Moloch of a God!' + +'Captain Severi, you are raving.' + +Giovanni's fiery rage leapt from invective to sarcasm. + +'Raving! That is your answer, that is the sum of your churchman's +argument! A man who will not let you make a martyr of the woman he +adores is raving! Do you find that in Saint Thomas Aquinas, or in Saint +Augustine, or in Saint Jerome?' He dropped his voice and suddenly spoke +with cold deliberation. 'She shall not go. I swear that I will make it +impossible.' + +Monsignor Saracinesca shook his head. + +'If that is an oath,' he said, 'it is a foolish one. If it is a threat, +it is unworthy of you.' + +'Take it how you will. It is my last word.' + +'May you never regret it,' answered the prelate, lifting his +three-cornered hat; for Giovanni was saluting, with the evident +intention of leaving him at once. + +So they parted. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +A carriage came early for Sister Giovanna that evening, and the +footman sent in a message by the portress. The patient was worse, he +said, and the doctor hoped that the nurse would come as soon as she +conveniently could. She came down in less than five minutes, in her +wide black cloak, carrying her little black bag in her hand. It was +raining heavily and she drew the hood up over her head before she left +the threshold, though the servant was holding up a large umbrella. + +The portress had asked the usual questions of him as soon as he +presented himself, but Sister Giovanna repeated them. Was the carriage +from the Villino Barini? It was. To take the nurse who was wanted for +Baroness Barini? Yes; the Signora Baronessa was worse, and that was +why the carriage had come half-an-hour earlier. The door of the +brougham was shut with a sharp snap, the footman sprang to the box +with more than an average flunkey's agility, and the nun was driven +rapidly away. Knowing that the house she was going to was one of those +little modern villas on the slope of the Janiculum which have no +arched entrance and often have no particular shelter at the front +door, she did not take the trouble to push her hood back, as she would +need it again so soon. + +In about ten minutes the carriage stopped, the footman jumped down +with his open umbrella in his hand, and let her into the house. Before +she could ask whether she had better leave her cloak in the hall, the +man was leading the way upstairs; it was rather dark, but she felt +that the carpet under her feet was thick and soft. She followed +lightly, and a moment later she was admitted to a well-lighted room +that looked like a man's library; the footman disappeared and shut the +door, and the latch made a noise as if the key were being turned; as +she supposed such a thing to be out of the question, however, she was +ashamed to go and try the lock. + +She thought she was in the study of the master of the house and that +some one would come for her at once, and she stood still in the middle +of the room; setting down her bag on a chair, she pushed the hood back +from her head carefully, as nuns do, in order not to discompose the +rather complicated arrangement of the veil and head-band. + +She had scarcely done this when, as she expected, a door at the end of +the room was opened. But it was not a stranger that entered; to her +unspeakable amazement, it was Giovanni Severi. In a flash she +understood that by some trick she had been brought to his brother's +dwelling. She was alone with him and the door was locked on the +outside. + +She laid one hand on the back of the nearest chair, to steady herself, +wondering whether she were not really lying ill in her bed and +dreaming in the delirium of a fever. But it was no dream; he was +standing before her, looking into her face, and his own was stern and +dark as an Arab's. When he spoke at last, his voice was low and +determined. + +'Yes. You are in my house.' + +Her tongue was loosed, with a cry of indignation. + +'If you are not a madman, let me go!' + +'I am not mad.' + +His eyes terrified her, and she backed away from him towards the +locked door. She almost shrieked for fear. + +'If you have a spark of human feeling, let me out!' + +'I am human,' he answered grimly, but he did not move to follow her. + +'By whatever you hold sacred, let me go!' She was wrenching at the +lock in despair with both hands, but sideways, while she kept her eyes +on his. + +'I hold you sacred--nothing else.' + +'Sacred!' Her anger began to outbrave her terror now. 'Sacred, and you +have trapped me by a vile trick!' + +'Yes,' he answered, 'I admit that.' + +He had not moved again and there was a window near her. She sprang to +it and thrust the curtains aside, hoping to open the frame before he +could stop her. But though she moved the fastenings easily, she could +do no more, with all her strength, and Giovanni still stood +motionless, watching her. + +'You cannot open that window,' he said quietly. 'If you scream, no one +will hear you. Do you think I would have brought you to a place where +you could get help merely by crying out for it? The risk was too +great. I have made sure of being alone with you as long as I choose.' + +The nun drew herself up against the red curtains. + +'I did not know that you were a coward,' she said. + +'I am what you have made me, brave, cowardly, desperate--anything you +choose to call it! But such as I am, you must hear me to the end this +time, for you have no choice.' + +Sister Giovanna understood that there was no escape and she stood +quite still; but he saw that her lips moved a little. + +'God is not here,' he said, in a hard voice, for he knew that she was +praying. + +'God is here,' she answered, crossing her hands on her breast. + +He came a step nearer and leaned on the back of a chair; he was +evidently controlling himself, for his movements were studiedly +deliberate, though his voice was beginning to shake ominously. + +'If God is with you, Angela, then He shall hear that I love you and +that you are mine, not His! He shall listen while I tell you that I +will not give you up to be murdered by priests for His glory! Do what +He will, He shall not have you. I defy Him!' + +The nun shrank against the curtain, not from the man, but at the +words. + +'At least, do not blaspheme!' + +'I must, if it is blasphemy to love you.' + +'Yours is not love. Would to heaven it were, as I thought it was to-day. +Love is gentle, generous, tender----' + +'Then be all three to me; for you love me, in spite of everything!' + +'You have taught me to forget that I ever did,' she answered. + +'Learn to remember that you did, to realise that you do, and forget +only that I have used a trick to bring you here--a harmless trick, one +carriage for another, my brother's orderly for a servant. I found out +from Madame Bernard where you were going and I sent for you before the +hour. You are as safe here as if you were praying in your chapel; in a +few minutes the carriage will take you back, you will say you got into +the wrong one by mistake, which is quite true, and the right one will +take you where you are to go; you will be scarcely half-an-hour late +and no one will ever know anything more about it.' + +Sister Giovanna had listened patiently to his explanation, and +believed what he said. He had always been impulsive to rashness, but +now that her first surprise had subsided she was less afraid. He had +evidently yielded to a strong temptation with the idea of forcing her +to listen to him, and in reality, if she had understood herself, she +was not able to believe that he would hurt her or bring any disgrace +upon her. + +'If you are in earnest,' she said, when he had finished, 'then let me +go at once.' + +'Presently,' he answered. 'This afternoon you made me promise to hear +quietly what you had to say, and I did my best. I could not help your +being frightened just now, I suppose--after all, I have carried you off +from the door of your Convent, and I meant you to understand that you +were helpless, and must listen. I ought to have put it differently, +but I am not clever at such things. All I ask is that you will hear +me. After all, that is what you asked of me to-day.' + +He had begun to walk up and down before her, while he was speaking; +but he did not come near her, for the chair stood between her and the +line along which he was pacing backwards and forwards. Something in +his way of speaking reassured her, as he jerked out the rather +disconnected sentences. Women often make the mistake of thinking that +when we men begin to stumble away from the straight chalk-line of that +logic in which we are supposed by them to take such pride, our purpose +is wavering, whereas the opposite is often the case. Men capable of +sudden, direct, and strong action are often poor talkers, particularly +when they are just going to spring or strike. A little hesitation is +more often the sign of a near outbreak than of any inward weakening. +But Sister Giovanna was deceived. + +'I shall be forced to listen, if you insist,' she said, moving half a +step forward from the curtain, 'but how can I trust you, while I am +your prisoner?' + +'You can trust me, if you will be generous,' Giovanni answered. + +'I do not know what you mean by the word,' replied the nun cautiously. +'If I am not generous, as you mean it, what then?' + +Severi stopped in his walk; his face began to darken again, and his +voice was rough and hard. + +'What then? Why then, remember what I am and where you are!' + +Sister Giovanna drew back again. + +'I would rather trust in God than trust you when you speak in that +tone,' she said. + +He had used the very words she had spoken in the cloister when he had +tried to take her by the arm, but they had a very different meaning +now; his dangerous temper was rising again and he was threatening her. +Yet her answer produced an effect she was far from expecting. He +turned to the writing-table near him, opened one of the drawers and +took out an army revolver. Sister Giovanna watched him. If he was only +going to kill her she was not afraid. + +'I will force you to trust me,' he said, quickly examining the charge +as he came towards her. + +'By threatening me with that thing?' she asked with contempt. 'You are +mistaken!' + +He was close to her, but he offered her the butt-end of the weapon. + +'No,' he said, 'I am not mistaken. It is I who fear death, as long as +you are alive, and here it is, in your hand.' But she would not take +the revolver from him. 'You will not take it? Well, there it is.' He +laid it on the chair, which he placed beside her. 'If I come too near +you, or try to touch even your sleeve, you can use it. The law will +acquit you, and even praise you for defending yourself in need.' + +'There must be no need,' she answered, looking at him fixedly. 'Say +quickly what you have to say.' + +'Will you not sit down, then?' + +'No, thank you. I would rather not.' + +It would have seemed like consenting to be where she was; and besides, +the revolver lay on the nearest available chair and she would not +touch it, much less hold it in her hand, if she sat down to listen. +Giovanni leaned back against the heavy table at some distance from +her, resting his hands on the edge, on each side of him. + +'After I left you to-day,' he began, 'I had a long talk with Monsignor +Saracinesca in the street. I asked him questions about obtaining a +dispensation for you. He made it look impossible, of course--that was +to be expected! But I got one point from him, which is important. He +made it quite clear to me that the request to be released from your +vows must come from you, if it is to be considered at all. You +understand that, do you not?' + +'Is it possible that you yourself do not yet understand?' Sister +Giovanna asked, as quietly as she could. 'Did I not tell you to-day +that no power could loose me from my vows?' + +'You were mistaken. There is a power that can, and that rests with the +Pope, and he shall exercise it.' + +'I will not ask for a dispensation. I have told you that it is an +impossibility----' + +'There is no such thing as impossibility for men and women who love,' +Giovanni answered. 'Have you forgotten the last words you said to me +before I sailed for Africa?' He spoke gently now, and Sister Giovanna +turned her face from him. 'You said, "I will wait for you for ever." +Do you remember?' + +'Yes. I remember.' + +'Did you "wait for ever," Angela?' + +She looked at him again, and then came forward a little, drawn by an +impulse she could not resist. + +'Did I love another man, that you reproach me?' she asked. 'Such as my +life has been, have I lived it as a woman lives who has forgotten? I +know I have not. Yes, Giovanni, I have waited, but as one waits who +hopes to meet in heaven the dear one who is dead on earth. Do you +still find fault with me? Would you rather have had me go back to the +world and to society after mourning you as long as a girl of nineteen +could mourn for a man to whom she had not been openly engaged? Was I +wrong? If you had really been dead and could have seen me, would you +have wished that I were living differently?' + +For a moment he was moved and held out one hand towards her, hoping +that she would come nearer. + +'No,' he answered--'no, dear----' + +'But that was the only question,' she said earnestly, 'and you have +answered it!' + +She would not take his hand and Giovanni dropped his own with a +gesture of disappointment. + +'No,' he replied, in a colder tone, 'it is not the question, for you +have not told me all the truth. If I had not been gone five years, if +I had come back the day before you took the last vows, would you have +taken them?' + +'No, indeed!' + +'If I had come the very next day after, would you not have done your +best to be set free?' + +There was an instant's pause before she spoke; then the answer came, +clear and distinct. + +'No.' + +Severi turned from her with an impatient movement of his compact head, +and tapped the carpeted floor with his heel. His answer broke from his +lips harshly. + +'You never loved me!' + +She would have done wisely if she had been silent then; but she could +not, for his words denied the truth that had ruled her life. + +'Better than I knew,' she said. 'Better than I knew, even then.' + +'Even then?' The words had hope in them. 'And now?' He was suddenly +breathless. + +'Yes, even now!' The tide of truth lifted her from her feet and swept +her onward, helpless. 'Giovanni! Giovanni! Do you think it costs me +nothing to keep my word with God?' + +But he had been disappointed too often now, and he could not believe +at once. + +'It costs you less than it would to keep your faith with me,' he +answered. + +'It is not true! Indeed, it is not true!' + +'Then let the truth win, dear! All the rest is fable!' + +He was at her side now. She had tried to resist, but not long, and her +hand was in his, though her face was turned away. + +'No--no----' she faltered, but he would not let her speak. + +'All a fable of sorrow and a dream of parting, sweetheart! And now we +have waked to meet again, your hand in my hand, my heart to your +heart--your lips to mine----' + +She almost shrieked aloud in terror then and threw herself back +bodily, as from the edge of a precipice. She might have fallen if he +had not still held her hand, and as she recovered herself she tried to +withdraw it. In her distress, words came that she regretted +afterwards. + +'Do you think that only you are human, of us two?' she cried, in +passionate protest against passion itself, against him, against life, +but still twisting her wrist in his grip and trying to wrench it away. +'For the love of heaven, Giovanni----' + +'No--for love of me----' + +She broke from him, for when he felt that he was hurting her his +fingers relaxed. But she could not stay her own words. + +'Yes, I love you,' she cried almost fiercely, as she stepped +backwards. 'Right or wrong, I cannot unmake myself, and as for lying +to you, I will not! God is my witness that I mean to love you living +as I have loved you dead, without one thought of earth or one regret +for what might have been! But, oh, may God forgive me, too, if I wish +that we were side by side in one grave, at peace for ever!' + +'Dead? Why? With life before us----' + +'No!' She interrupted him with rising energy. 'No, Giovanni, no! I was +weak for a moment, but I am strong again. I can wait for you, and you +will find strength to wait for me. You are so brave, Giovanni, you can +be so generous, when you will! You will wait, too!' + +'For what?' + +'For the end that will be the beginning, for God's great To-morrow, +when you will come to be with me for ever and ever, beyond the world, +and all parting and all pain!' + +There was a deep appeal to higher things in her words and in her +voice, too, but it did not touch him; he only knew that at the very +moment when she had seemed to be near yielding, the terrible +conviction of her soul had come once more between him and her. + +'There is no beyond,' he answered, chilled and sullen again. 'You live +in a lying legend; your life is a fable and your sacrifice is a +crime.' + +The cruel words struck her tormented heart, as icy hailstones bruise +the half-clad body of a starving child, out in the storm. + +'You hurt me very much,' she said in a low voice. + +'Forgive me!' he cried quickly. 'I did not mean to. I forget that you +believe your dreams, for I cannot live in visions as you do. I only +see a blind force, striking in the dark, a great injustice done to us +both--a wrong I will undo, come what may!' + +'You know my answer to that. You can undo nothing.' + +'I am not answered yet. You say you love me--prove it!' + +'Only my life can,' said the nun; 'only our two lives can prove our +love, for we can live for each other still, perhaps we shall be +allowed to die for each other, and in each other we shall find +strength to resist----' + +'Not to resist love itself, Angela.' + +'No, not to resist all that is good and true in love.' + +'I cannot see what you see,' he answered. 'Nothing human is beyond my +comprehension, good or bad, but you cannot make a monk of me, still +less a saint--a Saint Louis of Gonzaga, who was too modest to look his +own mother in the face!' + +He laughed roughly, but checked himself at once, fearing to hurt her +again. + +She turned to him with a look of gentle authority. + +'In spite of what you have done to-night,' she said, 'you are such a +manly man, that you can be the man you will. Listen! If another woman +tried to get your love, could you resist her? Would you, for love of +me?' + +'She would have small chance, you know that well enough.' + +'There is another woman in me, Giovanni. Resist her!' + +'I do not understand.' + +'You must try! There is another woman in me, or what is left of her, +and she is quite different from my real self. Resist her for my sake, +as I am fighting her with all my strength. It was she who tempted you +to bring me here by a trick you are ashamed of already; it was she +that made me weak, just now; but she is not the woman you love, she is +not Angela, she is not worthy of you; and as for me, I hate her, with +all my soul!' + +Severi had said truly that he could not understand, and instead of +responding to her appeal, he turned impatient again. + +'You choose your words well enough,' he answered, 'but women's fine +speeches persuade women, not men. No man was ever really moved to +change his mind by a woman's eloquence, though we will risk our lives +for a look of yours, for a touch--for a kiss!' + +Sister Giovanna sighed and turned from him. The razor-edge of +extremest peril was passed, for the words that left him cold and +unbelieving had brought back conviction to her soul. She could live +for him, pray for him, die for him, but she would not sin for him nor +lift a hand to loose the vows that bound her to the religious life. +Yet she did not see that she was slowly driving him to a state of +temper in which he might break all barriers. Very good women rarely +understand men well until it is too late, because men very rarely make +any appeal to what is good in woman, whereas they lie in wait for all +her weaknesses. It is almost a proverbial truth that men of the most +lawless nature, if not actually of the worst character, are often +loved by saintly women, perhaps because the true saint sees some good +in every one and believes that those who have least of it are the ones +who need help most. Sister Giovanna was not a saint yet, but she was +winning her way as she gained ground in the struggle that had been +forced upon her that night, so cruelly against her will, and having +got the better of a temptation, her charity made her think that +Giovanni Severi was farther from it than he was. Outward danger was +near at hand, just when inward peril was passed. + +As if he were weary of the contest of words, he left the writing-table, +sat down in a big chair farther away, and stared at the pattern in the +carpet. + +'You are forcing me to extremities,' he said, after a long pause, and +rather slowly. 'Unless you consent to appeal to the Pope for your +freedom, I will not let you leave this house. You are in my power +here, and here you shall stay.' + +She was more surprised and offended than indignant at what she took +for an empty threat, and she was not at all frightened. Women never +are, when one expects them to be. She drew her long cloak round her +with simple dignity, crossed the room without haste, and stopped +before the locked door, turning her head to speak to him. + +'It is time for me to go,' she said gravely. 'Open the door at once, +please.' + +She could not believe that he would refuse to obey her, but he did not +move; he did not even look up, as he answered: + +'If I keep you a prisoner, there will be a search for you. You may +stay here a day, a week, or a month, but in the end you will be found +here, in my rooms.' + +'And set free,' the nun answered, from the door, with some contempt. + +'Not as you think. You will be expelled from your order for scandalous +behaviour in having spent a night, or a week, or a month in an +officer's lodging. What will you do then?' + +'If such a thing were possible, I would tell the truth and I should be +believed.' But her anger was already awake. + +'The thing is very possible,' Giovanni answered, 'and no one will +believe you. It will be out of the question for you to go back to your +Convent, even for an hour. Even if the Mother Superior were willing, +it could not be done. In the Middle Ages, you would have been sent to +a prison for penitents for the rest of your life; nowadays you will +simply be turned out of your order with public disgrace, the papers +will be full of your story, your aunt will make Rome ring with it----' + +'What do you mean by all this?' cried the Sister, breaking out at +last. 'Are you trying to frighten me?' + +'No. I wish you to know that I will let nothing stand between you and +me--nothing, absolutely nothing.' He repeated the word with cold +energy. 'When it is known that you have been here for twenty-four +hours, you will be forced to marry me. Nothing else can save you from +infamy. Even Madame Bernard will not dare to give you shelter, for she +will lose every pupil she has if it is found out that she is +harbouring a nun who has broken her vows, a vulgar bad character who +has been caught in an officer's lodgings! That is what they will call +you!' + +At first she had not believed that he was in earnest, but she could +not long mistake the tone of a man determined to risk much more than +life and limb for his desperate purpose. Her just anger leaped up like +a flame. + +'Are you an utter scoundrel, after all? Have you no honour left? Is +there nothing in you to which a woman can appeal? You talk of being +human! You prate of your man's nature! And in the same breath you +threaten an innocent girl with public infamy, if she will not disgrace +herself of her own free will! Is that your love? Did I give you mine +for that? Shame on you! And shame on me for being so deceived!' + +Her voice rang like steel and the thrusts of her deadly reproach +pierced deep. He was on his feet, in the impulse of self-defence, +before she had half done, trying to silence her--he was at her side, +calling her by her name, but she would not hear him. + +'No, I believed in you!' she went on. 'I trusted you! I loved you--but +I have loved a villain and believed a liar, and I am a prisoner under +a coward's roof!' Beseeching, he tried to lay his hand upon her +sleeve; she mistook his meaning. 'Take care!' she cried, and suddenly +the revolver was in her hand. 'Take care, I say! A nun is only a woman +after all!' + +He threw himself in front of her in an instant, his arms wide out, and +as the muzzle came close against his chest, he gave the familiar word +of command in a loud, clear tone: + +'Fire!' + +Their eyes met, and they were both mad. + +'If you despise me for loving you beyond honour and disgrace, then +fire, for I would rather die by your hand than live without you! I am +ready! Pull the trigger! Let the end be here, this instant!' + +He believed that she would do it, and for one awful moment she had +felt that she was going to kill him. Then she lowered the weapon and +laid it on the chair beside her with slow deliberation, though her +hands shook so much that she almost dropped it. As if no longer seeing +him, she turned to the door, folded her hands on the panel, and leaned +her forehead against them. + +He heard her voice, low and trembling: + +'Forgive us our sins, as we forgive them that trespass against us!' + +His own hand was on the revolver to do what she had refused to do. As +when the cyclone whirls on itself, just beyond the still storm-centre, +and strikes all aback the vessel it has driven before it for hours, so +the man's passion had turned to destroy him. But the holy words stayed +his hand. + +'Angela! Forgive me!' he cried in agony. + +The nun heard him, raised her head and turned; his suffering was +visible and appalling to see. But she found speech to soothe it. + +'You did not know what you were saying.' + +'I know what I said.' + +He could hardly speak. + +'You did not mean to say it, when you brought me here.' She was +prompting him gently. + +'No.' He almost whispered the one word, and then he regretted it. 'I +hardly know what I meant to say,' he went on more firmly, 'but I know +what I meant to accomplish. That is the truth, such as it is. I saw +this afternoon that I should never persuade you to ask for your +freedom unless I could talk to you alone where you must hear me; the +chance came unexpectedly and I took it, for it would never have come +again. I had no other place, I had not thought of what I should say, +but I was ready to risk everything, all for all--as I have done----' + +'You have, indeed,' the nun said slowly, while he hesitated. + +'And I have failed. Forgive me if you can. It was for love of you and +for your sake.' + +'For my sake, you should be true and brave and kind,' answered the +Sister. 'But you ask forgiveness, and I forgive you, and I will try to +forget, too. If I cannot do that, I can at least believe that you were +mad, for no man in his senses would think of doing what you +threatened! If you wish to live so that I may tell God in my prayers +that I would have been your wife if I could, and that I hope to meet +you in heaven--then, for my sake, be a man, and not a weakling willing +to stoop to the most contemptible villainy to cheat a woman. Your +brother was nearly killed in doing his duty here and you have taken +his place. Make it your true calling, as I have made it mine to nurse +the sick. At any moment, either of us may be called to face danger, +till we die; we can feel that we are living the same life, for the +same hope. Is that nothing?' + +'The same life? A nun and a soldier?' + +'Why not, if we risk it that others may be safe?' + +'And in the same hope? Ah no, Angela! That is where it all breaks +down!' + +'No. You will live to believe it is there that all begins. Now let me +go.' + +Severi shook his head sadly; she was so unapproachably good, he +thought--what chance had a mere man like himself of really +understanding her splendid, saintly delusion? + +Pica had turned the key on the outside and had taken it out, obeying +his orders; but Giovanni had another like it in his pocket and now +unlocked and opened the door. The nun went out, drawing her black hood +quite over her head so that it concealed her face, and Giovanni +followed her downstairs and held an umbrella over her while she got +into the carriage, for it was still raining. + +'Good-night,' he said, as Pica shut the door. + +He did not hear her answer and the brougham drove away. When he could +no longer see the lights, he went upstairs again, and after he had +shut the door he stood a long time just where she had stood last. The +revolver was still on the chair under the bright electric light. He +fancied that the peculiar faint odour of her heavy cloth cloak, just +damped by the few drops of rain that had reached it, still hung in the +air. With the slightest effort of memory, her voice came back to his +ears, now gentle, now gravely reproachful, but at last ringing like +steel on steel in her generous anger. She had been present, in that +room, in his power, during more than twenty minutes, and now she was +gone and would never come again. + +He had done the most rash, inconsequent, and uselessly bad deed that +had ever suggested itself to his imagination, and now that all was +over he wondered how he could have been at once so foolish, so brutal, +and so daring. Perhaps five years of slavery in Africa had unsettled +his mind; he had heard of several similar cases and his own might be +another; he had read of officers who had lost all sense of +responsibility after months of fighting in the tropics, perhaps from +having borne responsibility too long and unshared, who had come back, +after doing brave and honourable work, to find themselves morally +crippled for civilised life, and no longer able to distinguish right +from wrong or truth from falsehood. + +It had all happened quickly but illogically, as events follow each +other in dreams, from the moment when he had gone to the Convent +hospital with Monsignor Saracinesca till the brougham drove away in +the dark, taking Angela back. He understood for the first time how men +whom every one supposed to be of average uprightness could commit +atrocious crimes; he shuddered to think what must have happened if a +mere chance had not changed his mood, making him ask Angela's +forgiveness and prompting him to let her go. She had touched him, that +was all. If her voice had sounded only a little differently at the +great moment, if her eyes had not looked at him with just that +expression, if her attitude had been a shade less resolute, what might +not have happened? For the conviction that he could force her to be +his wife if he chose to keep her a prisoner had taken possession of +him suddenly, when all his arguments had failed. It had come with +irresistible strength: the simplicity of the plan had been axiomatic, +its immediate execution had been in his power, and while she was +within the circle of his senses, his passion had been elemental and +overwhelming. He tried to excuse himself with that; men in such cases +had done worse things by far, and at least Angela had been safe from +violence. + +But his own words accused him; he had threatened her, he had talked of +bringing infamy and public disgrace on the woman he loved, in order to +force her to marry him; he had thought only of that end and not at all +of the vile means; it all took shape now, and looked ugly enough. He +felt the blood surging to his sunburnt forehead for shame, perhaps for +the first time in his life, and the sensation was painfully +humiliating. + +It made a deep impression on him when he realised it. Often enough he +had said that honour was his god, and he had taken pleasure in proving +that he who makes the rule of honour the law of his life must of +necessity be a good man, incapable of any falsehood or meanness or +cruelty, and therefore truthful, generous, and kind; in other words, +such an one must really be all that a good Christian aims at being. +The religion of honour, Giovanni used to say, was of a higher nature +than Christianity, since Christians might sin, repent, and be forgiven +again and again, to the biblical seventy times seven times; but a man +who did one dishonourable deed in his whole life ceased to be a man of +honour for ever. Having that certainty before his eyes, how could he +ever be in danger of a fall? + +But now he was ashamed, for he had fallen; he had forsaken his deity +and his faith; the infamy he had threatened to bring on Angela had +come back upon him and branded him. It was not because he had brought +her to his lodging to talk with him alone, for he saw nothing +dishonourable in that, since he felt sure that no harm could come to +her in consequence. The dishonour lay in having thought of the rest +afterwards, and in having been on the point of carrying out his +threat. If he had kept her a prisoner only a few hours, the whole +train of results would most probably have followed; if he had not let +her go till the next day, they would have been inevitable and +irretrievable. Nothing could have saved Sister Giovanna then. + +As he saw the truth more and more clearly, shame turned into something +more like horror, and as different from mere humiliation as remorse is +from repentance. Thinking over what he had done, he attempted to put +himself in Angela's place, and to see, or guess, how he would behave +if some stronger being tried to force him to choose between public +ignominy and breaking a solemn oath. Moreover, he endeavoured to +imagine what the nun, as distinguished from the mere woman, must have +felt when she found herself trapped in a man's rooms and locked in. +Even his unbelief instinctively placed Sister Giovanna higher in the +scale of goodness than Angela Chiaromonte; he was an unbeliever, but +not a scoffer, for somehow the rule of honour influenced him there, +too. Nuns could really be saints, and were often holy women, and the +fact that they were mistaken, in his opinion, only made their +sacrifice more complete, since they were to receive no reward where +they hoped for an eternal one; and he no longer doubted that Sister +Giovanna was as truly good in every sense as any of them. What must +she not have felt, less than an hour ago, when he had entered the +room, telling her roughly that she was in his power, beyond all reach +of help? Yet he had cherished the illusion that he was an honourable +man, who would never take cruel advantage of any woman, still less of +an innocent girl, far less, still, of a nursing nun, whose dress alone +would have protected her from insult amongst any men but criminals. + +In his self-contempt he hung his head as he sat alone by the table, +half-fancying that if he raised his eyes he would see his own image +accusing him. Sister Giovanna herself would have been surprised if she +could have known how complete her victory had been. His god had +forsaken him in his great need, and though he could not believe in +hers, he was asking himself what inward strength that must be which +could make a woman in extremest danger so gentle and yet so strong, so +quick to righteous anger and yet so ready to forgive what he could +never pardon in himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Sister Giovanna's nerves were good. The modern trained nurse is a +machine, and a wonderfully good one on the whole; when she is +exceptionally endowed for her work she is quite beyond praise. People +who still fancy that Rome is a medięval town, several centuries behind +other great capitals in the application of useful discoveries and +scientific systems, would be surprised if they knew the truth and +could see what is done there, and not as an exception, but as the +general rule. The common English and American belief, that Roman nuns +nurse the sick chiefly by prayer and the precepts of the school of +Salerno, is old-fashioned nonsense; the Pope's own authority requires +that they should attend an extremely modern training-school where they +receive a long course of instruction, probably as good as any in the +world, from eminent surgeons and physicians. + +One of the first results of proper training in anything is an +increased steadiness of the nerves, which quite naturally brings with +it the ability to bear a long strain better than ordinary persons can, +and a certain habitual coolness that is like an armour against +surprises of all kinds. One reason why Anglo-Saxons are generally +cooler than people of other nations is that they are usually in better +physical condition than other men. + +A digression is always a liberty which the story-teller takes with his +readers, and those of us have the fewest readers who make the most +digressions; hence the little old-fashioned civility of apologising +for them. The one I have just made seemed necessary to explain why +Sister Giovanna was able to go to her patient directly from Severi's +rooms, and to take up her work with as much quiet efficiency as if +nothing unusual had happened. + +She had found the portress in considerable perturbation, for the right +carriage had just arrived, a quarter of an hour late instead of +half-an-hour too soon. Sister Giovanna said that there had been a +mistake, that she had been taken to the wrong house, that the first +carriage should not have come to the hospital of the White Nuns at all, +and that she had been kept waiting some time before being brought back. +All this was strictly true, and without further words she drove away to +the Villino Barini, the brougham Severi had hired having already +disappeared. As he had foreseen, it was impossible that any one should +suspect what had happened, for the nun was above suspicion, and when his +carriage had once left the Convent door no one could ever trace the sham +coachman and footman in order to question them. In that direction, +therefore, there was nothing to fear. The authority of an Italian +officer over his orderly is great, and his power of making the +conscript's life singularly easy or perfectly unbearable is greater. +Even Sister Giovanna knew that, and she felt no anxiety about the +future. + +Her mind was the more free to serve her conscience in examining her +own conduct. It was not her right to analyse Giovanni's, however; he +had made the circumstances in which she had been placed against her +will, and the only question was, whether she had done right in a +position she could neither have foreseen, so as to avoid it, nor have +escaped from when once caught in it. + +Examinations of conscience are tedious to every one except the subject +of them, who generally finds them disagreeable, and sometimes +positively painful. Sister Giovanna was honest with herself and was +broad-minded enough to be fair; her memory had always been very good, +she could recall nearly every word of the long interview, and she +accused herself of having been weak twice, namely, when she had +admitted that she was tempted, and when she had raised the revolver +and Giovanni had thrown himself against it. The danger had been great +at that moment, she knew, for she had felt that her mind was losing +its balance. But she had not wished to kill him, even for a moment, +though a terrifying conviction that her finger was going to pull the +trigger in spite of her had taken away her breath. Looking back, she +thought it must have been the sensation some people have at the edge +of a precipice, when they feel an insane impulse to jump off, without +having the slightest wish to destroy themselves. If a man affected in +this way should lose his head and leap to destruction, his act would +assuredly not be suicide. The nun knew it very well, and she was +equally sure that if she had been startled into pulling the trigger, +and had killed the man she had loved so well, it would not have been +homicide, whatever the law might have called it. But the consequences +would have been frightful, and the danger had been real. She could be +thankful for her good nerves, since nothing had happened, that was +all. Where she had done wrong had been in taking up the weapon, great +as the provocation to self-defence had been. + +Morally speaking, and apart from the possible fatal result, her main +fault lay in having confessed to Giovanni that she was really tempted +to ask release from her vows. Now that he was not near, no such +temptation assailed her, but there had been a time when to resist it +had seemed the greatest sacrifice that any human being could make. She +could only draw one conclusion from this fact, but it was a grave one: +in spite of her past life, her vows and her heartfelt faith, she was +not free from material and earthly passion. Innocence is one thing, +ignorance is another, and a trained nurse of twenty-five cannot and +should not be as ignorant as a child, whether she be a nun or a lay +woman. Sister Giovanna knew what she had felt: it had been the thrill +of an awakened sense, not the vibration of a heartfelt sympathy; it +belonged neither to the immortal spirit nor to the kingdom of the +mind, but to the dying body. Temptation is not sin, but it is wrong to +expose oneself to it willingly, except for a purpose so high as to +justify the risk. Sister Giovanna quietly resolved that she would +never see Severi again, and she judged that the surest way of abiding +by her resolution was to join the mission to the Far East and leave +Italy for ever. Having already thought of taking the step merely in +order to get away from the possibility of hating a person who had +wronged her and robbed her, it seemed indeed her duty to take it now +for this much stronger reason. Since she could still be weak, her +first and greatest duty was to put herself beyond the reach of +weakening influences. Giovanni would not leave Rome while she stayed +there, that was certain; there was no alternative but to go away +herself, for a man capable of such a daring and lawless deed as +carrying her off from the door of the Convent, under the very eyes of +the portress, might do anything. Indeed, he might even follow her to +Rangoon; but she must risk that, or bury herself in a cloister, which +she would not do if she could help it. + +While she was nursing the new case to which she had been called, her +resolution became irrevocable. When the patient finally recovered she +returned to the Convent, and it was not till she had been doing +ordinary work in the hospital during several days that she asked to +see the Mother Superior alone. Captain Ugo Severi had gone to the +baths of Montecatini to complete his cure, nothing more had been heard +of Giovanni, and the Mother was inclined to believe that his meeting +with Sister Giovanna had been final, and that he would make no further +attempt to see her. But the nun herself thought otherwise. + +She sat where she always did when she came to the Mother Superior's +room, on a straight-backed chair between the corner of the table and +the wall, and she told her story without once faltering or hesitating, +though without once looking up, from the moment when she had got into +the wrong carriage till she had at last reached the Villino Barini in +safety. Though it was late in the afternoon and the light was failing, +the Mother shaded her eyes with one hand while she listened. + +There was neither rule nor tradition under which Sister Giovanna could +have felt it her duty to tell her superior what had happened, and she +had necessarily been the only judge of what her confessor should know +of the matter. Even now, if she had burst into floods of tears or +shown any other signs of being on the verge of a nervous crisis, the +elder woman would probably have stopped her and told her not to make +confidences that concerned another person until she was calmer. But +she evidently had full control of her words and outward bearing, and +the Mother listened in silence. Then the young nun expounded the +conclusion to which she believed herself forced: she must leave a +country in which Giovanni might at any moment make another meeting +inevitable, and the safest refuge was the Rangoon Leper Asylum. She +formally asked permission to be allowed to join the mission. + +The Mother Superior's nervous little hand contracted spasmodically +upon her eyes, and then joined its fellow on her knee. She sat quite +still for a few seconds, looking towards the window; the evening glow +was beginning to fill the garden and the cloisters with purple and +gold, and a faint reflection came up to her suffering face. + +'It kills me to let you go,' she said at last, just above a whisper. + +The words and the tone took Sister Giovanna by surprise, though she +had lately understood that the Mother Superior's affection for her was +much stronger than she would formerly have believed possible; it was +something more than the sincere friendship which a middle-aged woman +might feel for one much younger, and it was certainly not founded on +the fact that the latter was an exceptionally gifted nurse, whose +presence and activity were of the highest importance to the hospital. +Neither friendship nor admiration for a fellow-worker could explain an +emotion of such tragic depth and strength that it seemed almost too +human in a woman otherwise quite above and beyond ordinary humanity. +Sister Giovanna could find nothing to say, and waited in silence. + +'I did not know that one could feel such pain,' said Mother Veronica, +looking steadily out of the window; but her voice was little more than +a breath. + +The Sister could not understand, but in the midst of her own great +trouble, the sight of a suffering as great as her own, and borne on +account of her, moved her deeply. + +All at once the Mother Superior swayed to one side on her chair, as if +she were fainting, and she might have fallen if the nun had not darted +forward to hold her upright; but at the touch, she straightened +herself with an effort and gently pushed the young Sister away from +her. + +'If it is for me that you are in such pain, Mother,' said Sister +Giovanna gently, 'I cannot thank you enough for being so sorry! But I +do not deserve that you should care so much--indeed, I do not!' + +'If I could give my life for yours, it would still be too little!' + +'You are giving your life for many,' Sister Giovanna answered gently. +'That is better.' + +'No. It is not better, but it is the best I can do. You do not +understand.' + +'How can I? But I am grateful----' + +'You owe me nothing,' the Mother Superior answered with sudden energy, +'but I owe you everything. You have given me the happiest hours of my +life. But it was too much. God sent you to me, and God is taking you +away from me--God's will be done!' + +Sister Giovanna felt that she was near something very strange and +great which she might not be able to comprehend if it were shown +clearly, and which almost frightened her by its mysterious veiled +presence. The evening light penetrated Mother Veronica's translucid +features, as if they were carved out of alabaster, and the hues that +lingered in them might have been reflected from heaven; her upturned +eyes, that sometimes looked so small and piercing, were wide and +sorrowful now. The young Sister saw, but guessed nothing of the truth. + +'The happiest hours in your life!' She repeated the words with wonder. + +'Yes,' said the elder woman slowly, 'the happiest by far! Since you +have been here, you have never given me one bad moment, by word or +deed, excepting by the pain you yourself have had to bear. If you go +away, and if I should not live long, remember what I have told you, +for if you have some affection for me, it will comfort you to think +that you have made me very, very happy for five long years.' + +'I am glad, though I have done nothing but my duty, and barely that. I +cannot see how I deserve such praise, but if I have satisfied you, I +am most glad. You have been a mother to me.' + +Slowly the transfigured face turned to her at last, full of radiance. + +'Do you mean it just as you say it, my dear?' + +'Indeed, indeed, I do!' Sister Giovanna answered, wondering more and +more, but in true earnest. + +The dark eyes gazed on her steadily for a long time, with an +expression she had never seen in human eyes before. Then the truth +came, soft and low. + +'I am your mother.' + +'You are a mother to us all,' the young Sister answered. + +'I am your mother, dear, your own mother that bore you--you, my only +child. Do you understand?' + +Sister Giovanna's eyes opened wide in amazement, but there was a +forelightening of joy in her face. + +'You?' she cried. 'But I knew my mother--my father----' + +'No. She whom you called your mother was my elder sister. I ran away +with the man I loved, because he was a Protestant and poor, and my +parents would not allow the marriage. We were married in his Church, +but my family would have nothing more to do with me. I was an outcast +for them, disgraced, never to be mentioned. Your own father died of +typhoid fever a few days before you were born. I was ill a long time, +ill and poor, almost starving. I wrote to my sister, imploring help. +She and her husband bargained with me. They agreed to make a long +journey and bring you back as their child. They promised that you +should be splendidly provided for; you would be an heiress, all that +my brother-in-law could legally dispose of should go to you; but I was +to disappear for ever and never let the truth be known. What could I +do? You were two months old and I was penniless. I let them take you, +and I became a nursing sister. It was like tearing off a limb, but I +let you go to the glorious future that was before you. At least, you +would have all the world held, to make up for my love, and I knew they +would be kind to you. They were ashamed of me, that was all. They said +that I was not married! You know how rigid they were, with their +traditions and prejudices! That is my story. I have kept my word, and +their secret, until to-day.' + +Sister Giovanna listened with wide eyes and parted lips, for the world +she had lived in during more than five-and-twenty years was wrenched +from its path and sent whirling into space at a tangent she could not +follow; there was nothing firm under her feet, she had nothing +substantial left, not even the name she had once called her own. It +had all been unreal. The dead Knight of Malta lying in state in the +great palace had not been her father; the delicate woman with the +ascetic face, who had died when she had been a little child, had not +been her mother; they had never registered her birth at the +Municipality because she had not been their child and had not even +been born in Rome; they had not taken the proper legal steps to adopt +her and make her their heir, because they had been ashamed of her own +mother. And her own mother was before her, Mother Veronica, the +Superior of the Convent in which she had taken refuge because they had +left her a destitute, nameless, penniless waif, after promising to +make her their daughter in the eyes of the law. She knew that without +a certificate of birth a girl could not easily be legally married in +Italy; if the Prince had lived and she had been about to marry, what +would he have done about that? But he was gone, and she would not ask +herself such a question, for the answer seemed to be that he would +have done something dishonest rather than admit the truth. A deep +resentment sprang up in her against the dead man and woman who had not +honourably kept their solemn promise to her mother, and her aunt's +lawless act and hatred of her sank into insignificance beside their +sin of omission. If the Princess's confession during her illness had +not been altogether the invention of a fevered brain, and if there had +really been a will, it had been worthless, and its destruction had not +robbed Angela of a farthing. She and her mother had been cheated and +their lives made desolate by those other two; she must not think of +it, lest she should hate the dead, as she had dreaded to hate the +living. + +All this had flashed upon her mind in one of those quick visions of +the truth by which we sometimes become aware of many closely connected +facts simultaneously, without taking account of each. After the Mother +Superior had ceased speaking the silence lasted only a few seconds, +but it seemed long to her now that she had told her secret and was +waiting to be answered. Would her daughter forgive her? The young +nun's face expressed nothing she felt at that moment; for the staring +eyes and parted lips remained mechanically fixed in a look of blind +surprise long after her thoughts were on the wing; and her thoughts +flew far, but their wide-circling flight brought them back, like +swallows, as swiftly as they had flown away. + +Then her heart spoke, and in another moment she was at her mother's +knee, like a child, with a little natural cry that had never passed +her lips before. For a breathing-space both guessed what heaven might +hold of rest, refreshment, and peace, and the march of tragic fate was +stayed while mother and daughter communed together, and dreamed of +never parting on earth but to meet in heaven, of keeping their sweet +secret from all the world as something sacred for themselves, of +working side by side, in one life, one love, one faith, one hope, of +facing all earthly trouble together, and of fighting every battle of +the spirit hand in hand. + +Two could bear what one could not. Sister Giovanna felt that fresh +strength was given her, and the long-tried elder woman was conscious +that her will to do good was renewed and doubled and trebled, so that +it could accomplish twice and three times as much as before. Her +daughter would not leave her now, to be a martyr in the East, as the +only escape from herself and from the man who loved her too daringly. +Why should she go? If she still felt that she must leave Rome for a +time, she could go to one of the order's houses far away, but not to +the East, the deadly East! Heaven did not love useless suffering; the +Church condemned all self-sacrifice that was not meet, right, and +reasonable. In due time she would come back, when all danger was over, +when Giovanni had lived through the first days of surprise, +disappointment, and passion. + +The sunset glow had faded and twilight was coming on when the two went +down the steps and crossed the cloistered garden to the chapel, for it +was the hour for Vespers. They walked as usual, with an even, +noiseless tread, the young nun on the left of her superior and keeping +step with her, but not quite close to her, for that would not have +been respectful; yet each felt as if the other's hand were in hers and +their hearts were beating gently with the same loving thought. Peace +had come upon them and they felt that it would be lasting. + +At the chapel door they separated; the Mother Superior passed to her +high-backed, carved seat at the end, the three aged nuns who had +survived from other times sat next to her in the order of their years, +and Sister Giovanna took her appointed place much farther down. A +number of seats were empty, belonging to those nurses who were +attending private cases. + +Cloistered nuns spend many hours of the day and night in chapel, but +the working orders use short offices and have much latitude as to the +hours at which their services are held. Except on Sundays and at daily +mass, no priest officiates; the Mother Superior or Mother Prioress +leads with her side of the choir, the Sub-Prioress, or the Mistress of +the Novices, or whoever is second in authority, responds with the +other nuns. The Office of Saint Dominic for Vespers practically +consists of one short Psalm, a very diminutive Lesson, one Hymn, and +the beautiful Canticle 'My soul doth magnify the Lord'; then follows a +little prayer and the short responsory, and all is over. The whole +service does not last ten minutes. + +The women's voices answered each other peacefully, and then rose +together in the quaint old melody of the hymn, the sweet notes of the +younger ones carried high on the stronger tones of the elder Sisters, +while the three old nuns droned on in a sort of patient, nasal, +half-mannish counter-tenor, scarcely pronouncing the words they sang, +but making an accompaniment that was not wholly unpleasing. + +Two versicles of responsory next, and then the Mother Superior began to +intone the Magnificat, and Sister Giovanna took up the grand plain-chant +with the others. In spite of her deep trouble, the words had never meant +to her what they meant now, and she felt her world lifted up from earth +to the gates of Peace. + +But she was not to reach the end of the wonderful song that day. + +'And His mercy is on them that fear Him, from generation to +generation,' the nuns sang. + +With a crash, as if a thunderbolt had fallen at their feet in the +choir, the Great Unforeseen once more flashed from its hiding-place +and hurled itself into their midst. + +The chapel rocked to and fro twice with a horrible noise of loosened +masonry grinding on itself, and the panes of the high windows fell in +three separate showers and were smashed to thousands of splinters on +the stone floor, the lights went out, the sacred ornaments on the +altar toppled and fell upon each other, the twilight that glimmered +through the broken windows alone overcame the darkness in the wrecked +church. The destruction was sudden, violent, and quick. In less than +fifteen seconds after the shock, perfect stillness reigned again. + +The Sisters, in their first terror, caught at each other +instinctively, or grasped the woodwork with convulsed hands. One or +two novices had screamed outright, but the most of them uttered an +ejaculatory prayer, more than half unconscious. The Mother Superior +was standing upright and motionless in her place. + +'Is any one hurt?' she asked steadily, and looking round the +semicircle in the gloom. + +No answer came to her question. + +'If any one of you was struck by anything,' she said again, 'let her +speak.' + +No one had been hurt, for the small choir was under the apse of the +chapel and there were no windows there. + +'Let us go to the hospital at once,' she said. 'The patients will need +us.' + +Her calm imposed itself upon the young novices and one or two of the +more nervous Sisters; the others were brave women and had only been +badly startled and shaken, for which no one could blame them. They +filed out, two and two, by the side door of the choir, Mother Veronica +coming last. From the cloister they could see that the big glass door +of the reception-hall was smashed, and that the windows overhead on +that side were also broken. Singularly enough, not one of those on the +other side was injured. + +All had felt the certainty that a dynamite bomb had been exploded +somewhere in the building with the intention of blowing up the +hospital. As they fell out of their ranks and scattered in twos and +threes, hastening to the different parts of the establishment where +each did her accustomed work, Sister Giovanna naturally found herself +beside the Mother Superior. As one of the supervising nurses, she was, +of course, needed in the hospital itself with her superior. + +'What do you think it was, Mother?' she asked in a low tone. + +'Nothing but dynamite could have done such damage----' + +She was still speaking, when a lay sister rushed out of the door they +were about to enter, with a broom in her hand, which she had evidently +forgotten to put down. + +'The powder magazine at Monteverde!' she cried excitedly. 'I saw it +from the window! It was like fireworks! It has blown up with everybody +in it, I am sure!' + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The lay sister was right. The great powder magazine at Monteverde had +been blown up, but by what hands no one has ever surely known. The +destruction was sudden, complete, tremendous, for a large quantity of +dynamite had been stored in the deep vaults. Today, a great hollow in +the side of the hill and near the road marks the spot where the +buildings stood. Many stories have been told of the catastrophe; many +tales have been repeated about suspicious characters who had been seen +in the neighbourhood before the fatal event, and for some of these +there is fairly good authority. + +All those who were in the city when the explosion took place, and I +myself was in Rome at the time, will remember how every one was at +first convinced that his own house had been struck by lightning or +suddenly shaken to its foundations. Every one will remember, too, the +long and ringing shower of broken glass that followed instantly upon +the terrific report. Every window looking westward was broken at once, +except some few on the lower stories of houses protected by buildings +opposite. + +Giovanni Severi was in the main building over the vaults a short time +before the catastrophe, having just finished a special inspection +which had occupied most of the afternoon. He was moving to leave the +place when an unfamiliar sound caught his ears, a noise muffled yet +sharp, like that of the discharge of musketry heard through a thick +wall. The junior officers and the corporal who were with him heard it, +too, but did not understand its meaning. Giovanni, however, instantly +remembered the story told by one of the survivors from a terrible +explosion of ammunition near Naples many years previously. That +muffled sound of quick firing came from metallic cartridges exploding +within the cases that held them; each case would burst and set fire to +others beside it; like the spark that runs along a fuse, the train of +boxes would blow up in quick succession till the large stores of +gunpowder were fired and then a mass of dynamite beyond. There were +divisions in the vaults, there were doors, there were walls, but +Giovanni well knew that no such barriers would avail for more than a +few minutes. + +Without raising his voice, he led his companions to the open door, +speaking as he went. + +'The magazine will blow up in two or three minutes at the outside,' he +said. 'Send the men running in all directions, and go yourselves, to +warn the people in the cottages near by to get out of doors at once. +It will be like an earthquake; every house within five hundred yards +will be shaken down. Now run! Run for your lives and to save the lives +of others! Call out the men as you pass the gates.' + +The three darted away across the open space that lay between the +central building and the guard-house. Giovanni ran, too, but not away +from the danger. There were sentries stationed at intervals all round +the outer wall, as round the walls of a prison, and they would have +little chance of life if they remained at their posts. Giovanni ran +like a deer, but even so he lost many seconds in giving his orders to +each sentinel, to run straight for the open fields to the nearest +cottages and to give warning. The astonished sentinels obeyed +instantly, and Giovanni ran on. He reached the very last just too +late; at that moment the thunder of the explosion rent the air. He +felt the earth rock and was thrown violently to the ground; then +something struck his right arm and shoulder, pinning him down; he +closed his eyes and was beyond hearing or feeling. + +Within three-quarters of an hour the road to Monteverde was thronged +with vehicles of all sorts and with crowds of people on foot. The +nature of the disaster had been understood at once by the soldiery, +and the explanation had spread among the people, rousing that strange +mixture of curiosity and horror that draws the common throng to the +scene of every accident or crime. But amongst the very first the King +was on the spot with half-a-dozen superior officers, and in the +briefest possible time the search for dead and wounded began. The +story of Giovanni's splendid presence of mind and heroic courage ran +from mouth to mouth. The junior officers and the men whom he had sent +in all directions came in and reported themselves to the officer who +had taken charge of everything for the time being. Only one man was +missing--only one man and Giovanni himself. A few casualties amongst +the peasants were reported, but not a life had been lost and hardly a +bone was broken. Yet Giovanni was missing. + +With the confidence of men who understood that the magazine must have +been so entirely destroyed at once as to annihilate all further danger +in an instant, the searchers went up to the ruin of the outer wall and +peered into the great dusty pit out of which the foundations of the +magazine had been hurled hundreds of feet into the air. Something of +the outline of the enclosure could still be traced, and the sentinels +whom Giovanni had warned from their post had already told their story. +They found, too, that the missing man himself had been one of the +sentries, and the inference was clear: their commanding officer had +been killed before he had reached the last post. + +For a long time they searched in vain. Great masses of masonry had +shot through the outer wall and had rolled on or been stopped by the +inequalities of the ground. Most of the wall itself was fallen and its +direction could only be traced by a heap of ruins. Twilight had turned +to darkness, and the search grew more and more difficult as a fine +rain began to fall. Below, the multitude was already ebbing back to +Rome; it was dark, it was wet, hardly any one had been hurt, and there +was nothing to see: the best thing to be done was to go home. + +It was late when a squad of four artillerymen heard a low moan that +came from under a heap of stones close by them. In an instant they +were at work with the pickaxes and spades they had borrowed from the +peasants' houses, foreseeing what their work would be. From time to +time they paused a moment and listened. Before long they recognised +their comrade's voice. + +'Easy, brothers! Don't crack my skull with your pickaxes, for Heaven's +sake!' + +'Is the Captain there?' asked one of the men. + +'Dead,' answered the prisoner. 'He was warning me when we were knocked +down together. Make haste, but for goodness' sake be careful!' + +They were trained men and they did their work quickly and well. What +had happened was this. The heavy and irregular mass of masonry that +had pinned Giovanni to the ground by his arm had helped to make a sort +of shelter, across which a piece of the outer wall had fallen without +breaking, followed by a mass of rubbish. By what seemed almost a +miracle to the soldiers, their companion was entirely unhurt, and no +part of the officer's body had been touched except the arm that lay +crushed beneath the stones. + +They cleared away the rubbish and looked at him as he lay on his back +pale and motionless under the light of their lanterns. They knew what +he had done now; they understood that of them all he was the hero. One +of the men took off his cap reverently, and immediately the others +followed his example, and so they all stood for a few moments looking +at him in silence and in deference to his brave deeds. Then they set +to work in silence to move the heavy block of broken masonry that had +felled him, and their comrade helped them too, though he was stiff and +bruised and dazed from the terrific shock. As the mass yielded at last +before their strength and rolled away, one of the men uttered a cry. + +'He is alive!' he exclaimed. 'He moved his head!' + +Before he had finished speaking the man was on his knees beside +Giovanni, tearing open his tunic and his shirt to listen for the +beating of his heart. It was faint but audible. Giovanni Severi was +not dead yet, and a few moments later his artillerymen were carrying +him down the hill towards the road, his injured arm swinging like a +rag at his side. + +They did not wait for orders; there were a number of carriages still +in the road and the men had no idea where their superiors might be. +Their first thought was to get Giovanni conveyed to a hospital as soon +as possible. + +'We must take him to the White Sisters,' said the eldest of them. +'That is where his brother was so long.' + +The others assented readily enough; and finding an empty cab in the +road, they lifted the wounded officer into it and pulled up the hood +against the rain, whilst two of them crept in under it, telling the +cabman where to go. + +In less than a quarter of an hour the cab stopped before the hospital +of the White Sisters, and when the portress opened the door, the two +artillerymen explained what had happened and begged that their officer +might be taken in at once; and, moreover, that the portress would +kindly get some money with which to pay the cabman, as they could only +raise seven sous between them. + +The Mother Superior had supposed that there would be many wounded, and +had directed that the orderlies should be ready at the door with +stretchers, although the Convent hospital did not receive accident +cases or casualties except in circumstances of extreme emergency. The +hospital of the Consolazione, close to the Roman Forum, was the proper +place for these, but it was very much farther, and the White Sisters +were so well known in all Trastevere that they were sometimes called +upon, even in the middle of the night, to take in a wounded man who +could not have lived to reach the great hospital beyond the Tiber. + +Under the brilliant electric light in the main hall, the Mother +Superior recognised Giovanni's unconscious face; his crushed arm, +hanging down like a doll's, and his torn and soiled uniform, told the +rest. He was taken at once to the room his brother had occupied so +long. The Mother Superior herself helped the surgeon and another +Sister to do all that could be done then. Sister Giovanna knew nothing +of his coming, for she was in the wards, where there was much to be +done. The patients who had fever had been severely affected by the +terrible explosion, and most of them were more or less delirious and +had to be quieted. In the windows that look westward every pane of +glass was broken, though the outer shutters had been closed at sunset, +a few minutes before the catastrophe. There were heaps of broken glass +to be cleared away, and the patients whose beds were now exposed to +draughts were moved. Sister Giovanna, who was not the supervising +nurse for the week, worked quietly and efficiently with the others, +carrying out all directions as they were given; but her heart misgave +her, and when one of the nuns came in and said in a low voice that an +officer from Monteverde had been brought in with his arm badly +crushed, she steadied herself a moment by the foot of an iron +bedstead. In the shaded light of the ward no one noticed her agonised +face. + +Presently she was able to ask where the officer was, and the Sister +who had brought the news announced that he was in Number Two. It was +Giovanni now, and not his brother, the unhappy woman was sure of that, +and every instinct in her nature bade her go to him at once. But the +unconscious volition of those long trained to duty is stronger than +almost any impulse except that of downright fear, and Sister Giovanna +stayed where she was, for there was still much to be done. + +About half-an-hour later the Mother Superior entered the ward and +found her and led her quietly out. When they were alone together, the +elder woman told her the truth. + +'Giovanni Severi has been brought here from Monteverde,' she said. +'His right arm is so badly crushed that unless it is amputated he will +certainly die.' + +Sister Giovanna did not start, for she had guessed that he had +received some terrible injury. She answered quietly enough, by a +question. + +'Is he conscious?' she asked. 'I believe that, by the law, his consent +must be obtained before the operation.' + +'He came to himself, but the doctor thought it best to give him a +hypodermic of morphia and he is asleep.' + +'Did he speak, while he was conscious?' + +The Mother Superior knew what was passing in her daughter's mind, and +looked quietly into the expectant eyes. + +'He did not pronounce your name, but he said that he would rather die +outright than lose his right arm. In any case, it would not be +possible to amputate it during the night. He had probably dined before +the accident, and it will not be safe to put him under ether before +to-morrow morning.' + +Sister Giovanna did not speak for a few moments, though the Mother +Superior was almost quite sure what her next words would be, and that +the young nun was mentally weighing her own strength of character with +the circumstances that might arise. + +'May I take care of him to-night?' she asked at last rather suddenly, +like a person who has decided to run a grave risk. + +'Can you be sure of yourself?' asked the elder woman, trying to put +the question in the authoritative tone which she would have used with +any other Sister in the community. + +But it was of no use; when she thought of all it meant, and of what +the delicate girl was to her, all the coldness went out of her voice +and the deepest motherly sympathy took its place. The answer came +after a short pause in which the question was finally decided. + +'Yes. I can be sure of myself now.' + +'Then come with me,' answered the Mother Superior. + +They followed the passage to the lift, were taken up to the third +floor, and a few moments later were standing before the closed door of +Number Two. The Mother Superior paused with her hand on the door knob. +She looked silently at her young companion, as if repeating the +question she had already asked; and Sister Giovanna understood and +slowly bent her head. + +'I can bear anything now,' she said. + +She opened the door, and the two entered the quiet room, where one of +the Sisters sat reading her breviary by the shaded light in the +corner. The wounded man lay fast asleep under the influence of the +morphia, and the white coverlet was drawn up to his chin. He was not +very pale, Sister Giovanna thought; but she could not see well, +because there was a green shade over the small electric lamp in the +corner of the room. + +'Sister Giovanna will take your place for to-night,' said the Mother +Superior to the nun, who had risen respectfully, and who left the room +at once. + +The mother and daughter turned to the bedside and stood looking down +at the sleeping man's face. Instinctively their hands touched and then +held each other. Experience told them both that in all probability +Giovanni would sleep till morning under the drug, and would wake in a +dreamy state in which he might not recognise his nurse at once; but +sooner or later the recognition must take place, words must be spoken, +and a question must be asked. Would he or would he not consent to the +operation which alone could save his life? So far as the two women +knew and understood the law, everything depended on that. If he +deliberately refused, it would be because he chose not to live without +Angela, not because he feared to go through life a cripple. They were +both sure of that, and they were sure also that if any one could +persuade him to choose life where the choice lay in his own hands, it +would be Sister Giovanna herself. The operation was not one which +should be attended with great danger; yet so far as the law provided +it was of such gravity as to require the patient's own consent. + +Neither of the two nuns spoke again till the Mother Superior was at +the door to go out. + +'If you want me, ring for the lay sister on duty and send for me,' she +said. 'I will come at once.' + +She did not remember that she had ever before said as much to a nurse +whose night was beginning. + +'Thank you,' answered Sister Giovanna; 'I think he will sleep till +morning.' + +The door closed and she made two steps forward till she stood at the +foot of the bed. For a few moments she gazed intently at the face she +knew so well, but then her glance turned quickly toward the corner +where the other nurse had sat beside the shaded lamp. That should be +her place, too, but she could not bear to be so far from him. +Noiselessly she brought a chair to the bedside and sat down so that +she could look at his face. Since she had been in the room she had +felt something new and unexpected--the deep, womanly joy of being alone +to take care of the beloved one in the hour of his greatest need. She +would not have thought it possible that a ray of light could penetrate +her darkness, or that in her deep distress anything approaching in the +most distant degree to a sensation of peace and happiness could come +near her. Yet it was there and she knew it, and her heart rested. It +was an illusion, no doubt, a false dawn such as men see in the +tropics, only to be followed by a darker night; but while it lasted it +was the dawn for all that. It was a faint, sweet breath of happiness, +and every instinct of her heart told her that it was innocent. She +would have, been contented to watch over him thus, in his sleep, for +ever, seeing that he too was momentarily beyond suffering. + +It seemed, indeed, as if it might be long before any change came; his +breathing was a little heavy, but was regular as that of a sleeping +animal; his colour was even and not very pale; his eyes were quite +shut and the eyelids did not quiver nor twitch. The tremendous drug +had brought perfect calm and rest after a shock that would have +temporarily shattered the nerves of the strongest man. Then, too, +there was nothing to be seen and there was nothing in the room to +suggest the terrible injury that was hidden under the white +coverlet--nothing but the lingering odour of iodoform, to which the nun +was so well used that she never noticed it. + +Hour after hour she sat motionless on the chair, her eyes scarcely +ever turning from his face. He was so quiet that there was absolutely +nothing to be done; to smooth his pillow or to pass a gentle hand over +his forehead would have been to risk disturbing his perfect quiet, and +she felt not the slightest desire to do either. For a blessed space +she was able to put away the thought of the question which would be +asked when he wakened, and which he only could answer. It was not a +night of weary waiting nor of anxious watching; while its length +lasted, he was hers to watch, hers alone to take care of, and that was +so like happiness that the hours ran on too swiftly and she was +startled when she heard the clock of the San Michele hospice strike +three; she remembered that it had struck nine a few minutes after she +had sat down beside him. + +Her anxiety awoke again now, and that delicious state of peace in +which she had passed the night began to seem like a past dream. In a +little more than an hour the dawn would begin to steal through the +outer blinds--the dawn she had watched for and longed for a thousand +times in five years of nursing. It would be unwelcome now; it would +mean the day, and the day could only mean for her the inevitable +question. + +She sat down again to watch him, for she had risen nervously in the +first moment of returning distress; and she felt the cold of the early +morning stealing upon her as she became gradually sure that his +breathing was softer, and that from time to time a very slight +quivering of the closed lids proclaimed the gradual return of +consciousness. He would not wake in pain, or at least not in any acute +suffering; she knew that by experience, for in such cases the nerves +near the injured part generally remained paralysed for a long time. +But he would wake sleepily at first, wondering where he was, glancing +vaguely from one wall to another, from the foot of the bed or the +window to her own face, without recognising it or understanding +anything. That first stage might last a few minutes, or half-an-hour; +he might even fall asleep again and not wake till much later. But +sooner or later recognition would come, and with it a shock to him, a +sudden tension of the mind and nerves, under which he might attempt to +move suddenly in his bed, and that might be harmful, though she could +not tell how. She wondered whether it would not be her duty to leave +him before that moment. It was true that he would recognise the room +in which he had so often spent long hours with his brother; he would +know, as soon as he was conscious, that he was in the Convent hospital +and under the same roof with her; then he would ask for her. Perhaps +the surgeon would think it better that he should see her, but she +would not be left alone with him; possibly she might be asked by the +Mother Superior or by Monsignor Saracinesca, if he chanced to come +that morning, to use her influence with Giovanni in order that he +might submit to what alone could save him from death. It was going to +be one of the hardest days in all her life--would God not stay the dawn +one hour? + +It was stealing through the shutters now, grey and soft, and the +wounded man's sleep was unmistakably lighter. Sister Giovanna drew +back noiselessly from the bedside and carried her chair to the corner +where the little table stood, and sat down to wait again. It might be +bad for him to wake and see some one quite near him, looking into his +face. + +At that moment the door opened quietly and the Mother Superior stood +on the threshold, looking preternaturally white, even for her. Sister +Giovanna rose at once and went to meet her. They exchanged a few words +in a scarcely audible whisper. The Mother had come in person to take +the nun's place for a while, judging that it would not be well if +Giovanni wakened and found himself alone with her. + +The Sister went to her cell, where she had not been since the +explosion on the previous evening. The brick floor was strewn with +broken glass and was damp with the fine rain, driven through the +lattice by the southwest wind during the night. Even the rush-bottomed +chair was all wet, and the edge of the white counterpane on the little +bed. It was all very desolate. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +Giovanni opened his eyes at last, looked at the ceiling for a few +moments, and then closed them again. Plain white ceilings are very +much alike, and for all he could see as he looked up he was at home in +his own bed, at dawn, and there was plenty of time for another nap. He +felt unaccountably heavy, too, though not exactly sleepy, and it would +be pleasant to feel himself going off into unconsciousness again for a +while, knowing that there was no hurry. + +But his eyes had not been shut long before he became aware that he was +in a strange place. He could not sleep again because an unfamiliar +odour of iodoform irritated his nostrils; he missed something, too, +either some noise outside to which he was used or some step near him. +In the little house at Monteverde he could always hear his orderly +cleaning the stable early in the morning; he grew suddenly uneasy and +tried to turn in his bed, and instead of the noise of broom and bucket +and sousing, he heard the indescribably soft sound of felt shoes on +tiles as the Mother Superior came to his side. + +Then, in a flash, he remembered everything, up to the time when he had +been hurt, and after the moment when he had at first come to himself +in the room where he now was. His eyes opened again, and he saw and +recognised the Mother Superior, whom he had often seen and spoken with +during his brother's stay in the hospital. Suddenly he was quite +himself, for his hurt was altogether local and he had lost little +blood; he only felt half paralysed on that side. + +'Were there many killed?' he asked quietly. + +'We do not know,' the Mother answered. 'When it is a little later I +will telephone for news. It is barely five o'clock yet.' + +'Thank you, Mother.' He shut his eyes again and said no more. + +The Mother Superior opened the window and let in the fresh morning +air, full of the glow of the rising sun, for the room looked to the +eastward, across the broad bend of the Tiber and towards the Palatine. +She turned out the electric light in the corner, then went to the +window again and refreshed herself by drawing long breaths at regular +intervals, as she had been taught to do when she was a beginner at +nursing. Presently the injured man called her and she went to the +bedside again. + +'It would be very kind of you to take down a few words which I should +like to dictate,' he said. 'No,' he continued quickly, as he saw a +grave look in the nun's face, 'it is not my will! It will be a short +report of what happened before the explosion. They will want it at +headquarters and my head is quite clear now. Will you write for me, +Mother?' + +'Of course.' + +There is always a pencil with a memorandum-pad in every private room +of a hospital, for the use of the nurse and the doctor. The Mother +Superior took both from the table and sat down close to the bed, and +Giovanni dictated what he had to say in a clear and businesslike way +that surprised her, great as her experience had been. When he had +finished, he asked her to read it over to him, and pointed out one +small correction to be made. + +'I think I can sign it with my left hand, if you will hold it up for +me,' he said. + +His fingers traced his name with the pencil, though very unsteadily, +and he begged her to send it to headquarters at once. There was always +some one on duty there, he explained, if it was only the subaltern +commanding the guard. She need not be afraid of leaving him alone for +a few moments, he added, for he was in no pain and did not feel at all +faint. Besides, she would now send him another nurse--he had not +thanked her for taking care of him herself during the night--he hoped +she would forgive his omission--he was still---- + +And thereupon, while in the very act of speaking, he fell asleep +again, exhausted by the effort he had made, and still under the +influence of the strong drug. The Mother understood, glanced at him +and slipped away, closing the door very softly. She knew that stage of +awakening from the influence of opium, with its alternating 'zones' of +sleep and waking. + +It was half-past five now, and a spring morning, and all was astir +downstairs; lay sisters were gathering the broken glass into baskets, +the portress was clearing away the wreck of broken panes from the +outer hall, and the nun who had charge of the chapel was preparing the +altar for matins. No one was surprised to see the Mother Superior in +the cloister so early, for she was often the first to rise and almost +always the last to go to rest; the novices said that the little white +volcano never slept at all, but was only 'quiescent' during a part of +the night. + +She found one of the orderlies scrubbing the outer doorstep, and +despatched him at once with Giovanni's report, which she had put into +an envelope and directed. He was to bring back an answer if there was +any; and when he was gone, as he had not finished his job, she took +the scrubbing broom in her small hands and finished it herself, with +more energy, perhaps, than had been expended upon the stones for some +time. Before she had quite done, the portress caught sight of her and +was filled with horror. + +'For the love of heaven!' she cried, trying to take the broom herself. + +The nun would not let it go, however, and pushed her aside gently, +with a smile. + +'If any one should see your Reverence!' protested the portress. + +'My dear Anna,' answered the Mother Superior, giving the finishing +strokes, 'they would see an old woman washing a doorstep, and no harm +would be done.' + +But the example remained impressed on the good lay sister's mind for +ever, and to her last days she will never tire of telling the novices +how the Mother Superior washed the doorstep of the hospital herself on +the morning after the explosion at Monteverde. + +The delivery of the report produced a more immediate result than +either Giovanni or the Mother had expected. The accident had happened +near sunset, and the story of Giovanni's heroic behaviour had been +repeated everywhere before midnight. The men who had found him had, of +course, reported the fact after the first confusion was over, but it +was some time before the news got up to any superior officer, though +the King's aide-de-camp had left instructions that any information +about Giovanni was to be telephoned to the Quirinal at once. When it +had been understood at last that he was in the private hospital of the +White Sisters, badly injured but alive, it was too late to think of +sending an officer to make inquiries in person. On the other hand, six +o'clock in the morning is not too early for most modern sovereigns, +general officers, and members of the really hard-working professions, +among which literature is sometimes included. In half-an-hour +Giovanni's little report had been read, copied, telephoned, and +telegraphed, and in less than half-an-hour more a magnificent +personage in the uniform of a colonel of cavalry on the General Staff, +accompanied by a less gorgeous but extremely smart subaltern, stopped +at the door of the Convent hospital in a Court carriage. He came to +ask after Captain Severi on behalf of the Sovereign, and to ascertain +whether he could perhaps be seen during the morning. He was told that +this must depend on the surgeon's decision; he expressed his thanks to +the portress with extreme civility and drove away again. Before long +other officers came to make similar inquiries, in various uniforms and +in slightly varying degrees of smartness, from the representative of +the War Office and the Commander-in-Chief's aide-de-camp to +unpretending subalterns in undress uniform, who were on more or less +friendly terms with Giovanni and were suddenly very proud of it, since +he had become a hero. + +Then came the reporters and besieged the door for news--an untidy lot +of men at that hour, unshaven, hastily dressed, and very sorry for +themselves because they had been beaten up by their respective papers +so early in the morning. They were also extremely disappointed because +the portress had no story to tell and would not hear of letting them +in; and they variously described her afterwards as Cerberus, Argus, +and the Angel of the Flaming Sword, which things agree not well +together. The portress had a busy morning, even after Doctor Pieri had +come and had written out a bulletin which she could show to all comers +as an official statement of the injured man's condition. + +The great surgeon and the Mother Superior sat on opposite sides of his +bed, and now that the sun had risen high the blinds were half drawn +together and hooked in the old-fashioned Roman way, to keep out some +of the light, while the glass was left open. A broad stripe of +sunshine fell across the counterpane below Giovanni's knees, and a +sharp twittering and a rushing of wings broke the stillness every few +seconds, as the circling swallows flew past the half-open window. + +'So you refuse to undergo the operation?' Pieri said, after a long +pause. 'Is that your last word? Shall I go away and leave you to die?' + +'How long will that take?' asked Giovanni calmly. + +'Probably from four to ten days, according to circumstances,' replied +the surgeon. + +'Say a week, more or less. Will it hurt much?' + +'Not unless you have lockjaw, which is possible. If you do, you will +suffer.' + +'Horribly,' said the Mother Superior, unconsciously covering her eyes +with one hand for a moment; she had seen men die of tetanus. + +'You will give me anęsthetics,' Giovanni answered philosophically. +'Besides, I would rather bear pain for a day or two than go through +life a cripple with an empty sleeve!' + +'It is deliberate suicide,' said the Mother Superior sadly. + +'I incline to think so, too,' echoed the surgeon, 'though I believe +the priests do not exactly consider it so.' + +Though he was half paralysed by his injury, Giovanni Severi smiled +grimly. + +'It would be very amusing if I died with the priests on my side after +all,' he said, 'and against our good Mother Superior, too! You don't +know how kind she is, Doctor; she has sat up all night with me +herself!' + +Pieri was surprised, and looked quietly at the nun, who immediately +rose and went to the window, pretending to arrange the blinds better. +But there are moments when the truth seems to reveal itself directly +to more than one person at the same time. The surgeon, whose +intuitions were almost feminine in their swift directness, guessed at +once why the Mother did not answer: not only she had not sat up with +Giovanni herself, but she had allowed Sister Giovanna to do so, and as +the patient had not wakened and recognised his nurse, it was not +desirable that he should now know the truth. As for Giovanni himself, +the certainty that came over him was more like 'thought-reading,' for +neither he himself nor any one else could have explained the steps of +reasoning by which he reached his conclusion. It was probably a mere +guess, which happened to be right, and was founded on a little anxious +shrinking of the Mother Superior's head and shoulders when she crossed +the room and went to the window, as if she had something to hide. +Giovanni saw it, and then his eyes met Pieri's for a moment, and each +was sure that the other knew. + +'I need not ask you,' Giovanni said, 'whether you are absolutely sure +that I must die if you do not take off my arm at the shoulder?' + +'Humanly speaking,' replied the other gravely, 'I am quite sure that +gangrene will set in before to-morrow morning, and that is certain +death in your case.' + +'Why do you say, in my case?' + +'Because,' Pieri answered with a little impatience, 'if it began in +your foot, for instance, or in your hand, it would take some little +time to reach the vital parts, and the arm or leg could still be +amputated; but in your case it will set in so near the heart that no +operation will be of any use after it begins. Do you understand?' + +'Perfectly. I shall take less time to die, for the same reason.' + +Severi was very quiet about it; but the Mother Superior turned on him +suddenly from the window, her small face very white. + +'It is suicide,' she said--'deliberate, intentional suicide, and no +right-thinking man, priest or layman, would call it by any other name, +let Doctor Pieri say what he will! You are in full possession of your +senses, and even of your health and strength, at this moment, and you +are assured that you run no risk if you submit to the doctors, but that +if you will not you must die! You are choosing death where you can +choose life, and that is suicide if anything is! Doctor Pieri knows well +enough what a good priest would say, and so do I, who have been a nurse +for a quarter of a century! If the injury were internal, and if there +were a real risk to your life in operating, you would have the right, +the moral right, to choose between the danger of dying under ether and +the comparative certainty of dying of the injury. But this is a specific +case. You are young, strong, absolutely healthy, and the chance of your +dying from the anęsthetic is not one in thousands, whereas, if nothing +is done, death is certain. I ask you, before God and man and on your +honour, whether you do not know that you are committing suicide--nothing +less than cowardly, dastardly self-murder!' + +'If I am, it is my affair,' answered Giovanni coldly; 'but you need +not leave out the rest. You believe that if I choose to die I shall go +straight to everlasting punishment. I believe that if there is a +God--and I do not deny that there may be--I shall not be damned because +I would rather not live at all than go on living as half a man. And +now, if you will let me have a cup of coffee and a roll, I shall be +very grateful, for I have had nothing to eat since yesterday at one +o'clock!' + +He probably knew well enough what such a request meant just then--the +putting off of a possible operation for hours, owing to the +impossibility of giving ether to a man who has lately eaten anything. +The Mother Superior and the surgeon looked at each other rather +blankly. + +'Shall I die any sooner if I am starved?' asked Giovanni almost +roughly. + +Pieri began to explain the danger, but Severi at once grew more +impatient. + +'I know all that,' he said, 'and I have told you my decision. I refuse +to undergo an operation. If you choose to make me suffer from +starvation I suppose it is in your power, though I am not sure. I +fancy I can still stand and walk, and even my one hand may be of some +use! If you do not give me something to eat, I shall get out of bed +and fight my way to the larder!' + +He smiled as he uttered the threat, as if he were not jesting about +his own death. Pieri did not like it, and turned to the door. + +'Since you talk of fighting,' he said, 'I would give you ether by +force, if I could, and let the law do what it would after I had saved +your life in spite of you! If you chose to blow your brains out +afterwards, that would not concern me!' + +Thereupon he disappeared, shutting the door more sharply than doctors +usually do when they leave a sick-room. The Mother Superior went to +the bedside and leaned over Giovanni, looking into his eyes with an +expression of profoundest entreaty. + +'I implore you to change your mind,' she said in a low and beseeching +voice, 'for the sake of the mother who bore you----' + +'She is dead,' Giovanni answered quietly. + +'For the sake of them that live and love you, them----' + +'There is only one, Mother, and you know it; but for that only one's +love I would live, not merely with one arm, but if every bone in my +body were broken and twisted out of shape beyond remedy. Mother, go +and tell her so, and bring me her answer--will you?' + +The nun straightened herself, and her face showed what she suffered; +but Giovanni did not understand. + +'You are afraid,' he said, with rising contempt in his tone. 'You are +afraid to take my message. It would move her! It might tempt her from +the right way! It might put it into her head to beg for a dispensation +after all, and the sin would be on your soul! I understand--I did not +really mean that you should ask her. You let her watch here last night +when you knew I could not waken, but you were careful that she should +be gone before I opened my eyes. You see, I have guessed the truth! I +only wonder why you let her stay at all!' + +He moved his head impatiently on the pillow. The Mother Superior had +drawn herself up rather proudly, folding her hands under her scapular +and looking down at him coldly, her face like a marble mask again. + +'You are quite mistaken,' she said. 'I will deliver your message and +Sister Giovanna shall give you her answer herself.' + +She went towards the door, gliding across the floor noiselessly in her +felt shoes; but just before she went out she turned to Giovanni again, +and suddenly her eyes were blazing like live coals. + +'And if you have the heart to kill yourself when you have talked with +her,' she said, 'you are a coward, who never deserved to live and be +called a man!' + +She was gone before Giovanni could have answered, and the man who had +risked life and limb to save others twelve hours earlier smiled +faintly at the good Mother's womanly wrath and feminine invective. + +He lay still on his back, staring at the ceiling, and he began to +wonder what day of the week it would be when he would not be able to +see it any more, and whether the end would come at night, or when the +sunlight was streaming in, or on a rainy afternoon. He did not believe +that Angela would be with him in a few minutes, and if she came--she +would say---- + +The strength of the morphia was not yet quite spent, and he fell +asleep in the middle of his train of thought, as had happened while he +was speaking to the Mother in the early morning. + +When he awoke the broad stripe of sunshine no longer fell across the +counterpane, but lay on the gleaming tiles beyond the foot of the bed; +and it fell, too, on Sister Giovanna's white frock and veil, for she +was standing there motionless, waiting for him to waken. His head felt +queer for a moment, and he wondered whether she would be standing on +the same spot, with the same look, when he would be dying, a few days +hence. There were deep purplish-brown rings under her eyes, which +seemed to have sunk deeper in their sockets; there was no colour in +her lips, or scarcely more than a shade; her young cheeks had grown +suddenly hollow. For the Mother--her mother--had told her everything, +and it was almost more than she could bear. + +He looked at her two or three times, fixing his eyes on the ceiling in +the intervals, to make sure that it was she and that he was awake; for +there was something in his head that disturbed him now, a sort of +beating on one side of the brain, with a dull feeling at the back, as if +there were a quantity of warm lead there that kept his skull on the +pillow. It was the beginning of fever, but he did not know it; it was +the forewarner of the death he was choosing. The experienced nurse saw +it in his face. + +'Giovanni, do you know me?' she asked softly, coming a step nearer. +Instantly, he had all his faculties again. + +'Yes; come to me,' he answered. + +She came nearer and stood beside him. + +'Sit down,' he said. 'This is the side--the side of my good arm. Sit +down and let me take your hand, dear.' + +She wondered at his quiet tone and gentle manner. They almost frightened +her, for she remembered taking care of impatient, short-tempered people +who had suddenly softened like this just at the end. But there was no +reason in the world why he should die now, and she dismissed the thought +as she took the hand he put out and held it. It was icy cold, as strong +men's hands generally are when a fever is just beginning. She tried to +warm it between hers, covering it up between her palms as much as she +could; but she herself was not warm either, for she had been in her +cell, where there was no sun in the morning, and the air was chilly and +damp, because it had rained in all night. + +Giovanni spoke again before she could find words. + +'My life is in your hands, with my hand, Angela,' he said. 'Do what +you will with it.' + +He felt that she shook from head to foot, like a young tree that is +rudely struck. He went on, as if he had prepared his words, though he +had not even thought of them. + +'With your love and your companionship, I shall not miss a limb, I +shall not regret my profession, I shall be perfectly happy. Alone, I +will not be forced artificially to live out my life a wretched +cripple.' + +It was brutal, and perhaps he knew it; but he was desperate and fate +had given him a weapon to move any woman. In plain truth, it was as +cruel as if he had put a pistol to his head and threatened to pull the +trigger if she would not marry him. He had not done that yet, even +when she had been in his room at Monteverde and the loaded revolver +had been between them. + +Sister Giovanna kept his hand bravely in hers and sat still, though it +was hard. The question which must be answered, and which she alone +could answer, had been asked with frightful directness, and though she +had known only too well that it was coming, its tremendous import +paralysed her and she could not speak. + +It was plainly this: Should she kill him, of her own free will, for +the sake of the solemn vow she had taken? Or should she save his life +by breaking, even under permission, what she looked on as an +absolutely inviolable promise? + +What made her position most terrible was the absolute certainty of the +fatal result, and its close imminence. In his condition, to put off +the operation for another day, in order to consider her answer, would +be to condemn him to death according to all probability of human +science, since a few hours longer than that would put probability out +of the question and make it a positive certainty. She could not speak; +her tongue would not move when she tried to form words and her breath +made no sound in her throat. + +For some time Giovanni said nothing more, and lay quite still. When he +spoke again, his voice was gentle. + +'Dear, since it must be, I should like it to come like this, if you +will--with my hand between yours.' + +It was too much, and she cried aloud and bowed herself. But the mortal +pain freed her tongue, and a moment later she broke out in a fervent +appeal. + +'Live, Giovanni, live--for Christ's good sake who died for you--for my +sake, too--for your own! Live the life that is still before you, and +you can make it great! If you love me, make it a noble life for that, +if for nothing else! Do you know, all Rome is ringing with the story +of what you did last night--the King, the Court, the Ministers are +sending for news of you every half-hour--the world is calling you a +hero--will you let them think that you are afraid of an operation, or +will you let my enemy tell the world that you have let yourself die +for my sake? That is what it comes to, one or the other of those +things!' + +Severi smiled faintly and shook his head without lifting it from the +pillow. + +'No man will call me coward,' he answered; 'and no one would believe +Princess Chiaromonte--not if she took oath on her death-bed!' + +'Will nothing move you?' cried the unhappy woman, in utter despair. +'Nothing that I can say? Not the thought of what life will mean to me +when you are gone? Not my solemn assurance that I can do +nothing--nothing----' + +'You can!' Giovanni cried, with sudden and angry energy. 'You are +willing to let me die rather than risk the salvation of your own soul. +That is the naked truth of all this.' + +Her hands left his as if they had lost their strength, and she rose at +the same instant and tottered backwards against the near wall, +speechless and transfixed with horror at the mere thought that what he +said might be true. + +But Giovanni's eyes did not follow her; the door had opened quietly, +and Monsignor Saracinesca was there and had heard the last words. + +The prelate's face expressed neither displeasure nor reproach; it was +only very thoughtful. + +Giovanni was in no humour to receive a visit from a priest just then, +even though the latter was an old acquaintance and had once been a +friend. Moreover, the last time they had been together, they had +parted on anything but good terms. Giovanni spoke first. + +'Have you come, like the others, to accuse me of committing suicide?' +he asked. + +The answer was unexpected and uncompromising. + +'No.' + +Sister Giovanna, still half-stunned and steadying herself against the +wall, turned wondering eyes to the speaker. The angry look in Severi's +face changed to one of inquiry. He strongly suspected that the +churchman had come to 'convert' him, as the phrase goes, and he was +curious to see what line of argument a man of such intelligence and +integrity would take. + +'No,' repeated Monsignor Saracinesca, 'I have come for quite another +purpose, which I hope to accomplish if you will listen to reason.' + +The nun stood erect now, though still leaning back against the wall, +and she had hidden her hands under her scapular. + +'I do not think I am unreasonable,' Giovanni answered quietly. 'My +position is this----' + +'Do not tire yourself by going over it all,' the prelate answered. 'I +understand your position perfectly, for I have been with the Mother +Superior nearly half-an-hour. I am going to take something upon +myself, as a man, which some of my profession may condemn. I am going +to do it because I believe it is the right course, and I trust that +God will forgive me if it is not.' + +There was a tremor in the good man's voice, and he ceased speaking, as +if to repeat inwardly the solemn words he had just spoken. + +'What are you going to do?' asked Giovanni Severi. + +On the question, the nun came forward and rested one hand on the chair +in which she had sat, leaning towards the prelate at the same time, +with parted lips and eyes full of a strange anticipation. + +'You know, I daresay, that I am Secretary to the Cardinal Vicar, and +that such cases as yours are to a great extent within my province?' + +Giovanni did not know this, but nodded; the nun, who knew it, bent her +head, wondering more and more what was coming, and not daring to +guess. Neither spoke. + +'I am going to lay the whole matter before the Cardinal Vicar at +once,' Monsignor Saracinesca continued calmly. 'I can be with him in +twenty minutes, and I am going to tell him the plain truth. I do not +think that any nun was ever more true to her vows than Sister Giovanna +has been since your return. But there is a limit beyond which fidelity +to an obligation may bring ruin and even death on some one whom the +promise did not at first concern. When the limit is reached, it is the +plain duty of those who have received that promise to relieve the +maker of it from its observance, even though not asked to do so. That +is what I am going to say to the Cardinal Vicar in half-an-hour. Are +you satisfied?' + +Sister Giovanna sank sideways upon the chair, with her arm resting on +the back of it, and she hid her face in her sleeve. + +'Will the Cardinal listen to you?' asked Giovanni, his voice unsteady +with emotion. + +'What I recommend is usually done,' answered the prelate, without a +shade of arrogance, but with the quiet certainty of a man in power. +'What I ask of you is, to submit at once to the operation that alone +can save you, on the strength of my assurance that I am going to do my +utmost to obtain what you desire.' + +'It is hard to believe!' Giovanni exclaimed, almost to himself. + +The nun moved her head silently from side to side without lifting her +face from her arm. + +'You can believe me,' Monsignor Saracinesca answered. 'I give you my +solemn promise before God, and my word of honour before men, that I +will do the utmost in my power to succeed. Do you believe me?' + +Giovanni held out his sound hand. The churchman came nearer and took +it. + +'Will you risk the operation on that?' he asked. + +The light of a profound gratitude illuminated the young soldier's +tired face, and his fingers pressed Monsignor Saracinesca's +spasmodically; but his voice was quiet when he spoke. + +'Sister Giovanna----' + +'Yes?' + +The nun looked up suddenly and drew a sharp breath, for her joy was +almost agonising. + +'Will you kindly go and tell Doctor Pieri that I am ready?' + +The nun rose with a spring and was at the door in an instant, and in +her heart rang such a chorus of glory and rejoicing as not even the +angels have heard since the Morning Stars sang together. + + * * * * * + +Of her, I think the most rigid cannot say that she had not endured to +the end, for her vow's sake. Whether the churchman was too human in +his sympathies or not may be an open question; if he was, he had the +courage to make himself alone responsible, for, as he had foretold, +what he recommended was done; if he was wrong, he has at least the +consolation of having brought unspeakable happiness to three human +beings. For the mother, whose heart had so nearly broken for her +child, had her share of joy, too, and it was no small one. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +POPULAR COPYRIGHT BOOKS +AT MODERATE PRICES + +Ask your dealer for a complete list of A. L. Burt Company's Popular +Copyright Fiction. + +Abner Daniel. By Will N. Harben. +Adventures of A Modest Man. By Robert W. Chambers. +Adventures of Gerard. By A. Conan Doyle. +Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. +Ailsa Page. By Robert W. Chambers. +Alternative, The. By George Barr McCutcheon. +Ancient Law, The. By Ellen Glasgow. +Angel of Forgiveness, The. By Rosa N. Carey. +Angel of Pain, The. By E. F. Benson. +Annals of Ann, The. By Kate Trumble Sharber. +Anna the Adventuress. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Ann Boyd. By Will N. Harben. +As the Sparks Fly Upward. By Cyrus Townsend Brady. +At the Age of Eve. By Kate Trimble Sharber. +At the Mercy of Tiberius. By Augusta Evans Wilson. +At the Moorings. By Rosa N. Carey. +Awakening of Helen Richie, The. By Margaret Deland. +Barrier, The. By Rex Beach. +Bar-20. By Clarence E. Mulford. +Bar-20 Days. By Clarence E. Mulford. +Battle Ground, The. By Ellen Glasgow. +Beau Brocade. By Baroness Orczy. +Beechy. By Bettina von Hutten. +Bella Donna. By Robert Hichens. +Beloved Vagabond, The. By William J. Locke. +Ben Blair. By Will Lillibridge. +Best Man, The. By Harold MacGrath. +Beth Norvell. By Randall Parrish. +Betrayal, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Better Man, The. By Cyrus Townsend Brady. +Beulah. (Illustrated Edition.) By Augusta J. Evans. +Bill Toppers, The. By Andre Castaigne. +Blaze Derringer. By Eugene P. Lyle, Jr. +Bob Hampton of Placer. By Randall Parrish. +Bob, Son of Battle. By Alfred Ollivant. +Brass Bowl, The. By Louis Joseph Vance. +Bronze Bell, The. By Louis Joseph Vance. +Butterfly Man, The. By George Barr McCutcheon. +By Right of Purchase. By Harold Bindloss. +Cab No. 44. By R. F. Foster. +Calling of Dan Matthews, The. By Harold Bell Wright. +Call of the Blood, The. By Robert Hichens. +Cape Cod Stories. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Cap'n Eri. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Captain Warren's Wards. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Caravaners, The. By the author of "Elizabeth and Her German Garden." +Cardigan. By Robert W. Chambers. +Carlton Case, The. By Ellery H. Clark. +Car of Destiny, The. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. +Carpet From Bagdad, The. By Harold MacGrath. +Cash Intrigue, The. By George Randolph Chester. +Casting Away of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine. Frank S. Stockton. +Castle by the Sea, The. By H. B. Marriot Watson. +Challoners, The. By E. F. Benson. +Chaperon, The. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. +City of Six, The. By C. L. Canfield. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +POPULAR COPYRIGHT BOOKS +AT MODERATE PRICES + +Ask your dealer for a complete list of A. L. Burt Company's Popular +Copyright Fiction. + +Circle, The. By Katherine Cecil Thurston (author of "The Masquerader," +"The Gambler.") +Colonial Free Lance, A. By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. +Conquest of Canaan, The. By Booth Tarkington. +Conspirators, The. By Robert W. Chambers. +Cynthia of the Minute. By Louis Joseph Vance. +Dan Merrithew. By Lawrence Perry. +Day of the Dog, The. By George Barr McCutcheon. +Depot Master, The. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Derelicts. By William J. Locke. +Diamond Master, The. By Jacques Futrelle. +Diamonds Cut Paste. By Agnes and Egerton Castle. +Divine Fire, The. By May Sinclair. +Dixie Hart. By Will N. Harben. +Dr. David. By Marjorie Benton Cooke. +Early Bird, The. By George Randolph Chester. +Eleventh Hour, The. By David Potter. +Elizabeth in Rugen. (By the author of "Elizabeth and Her German +Garden.") +Elusive Isabel. By Jacques Futrelle. +Elusive Pimpernel, The. By Baroness Orczy. +Enchanted Hat, The. By Harold MacGrath. +Excuse Me. By Rupert Hughes. +54-40 or Fight. By Emerson Hough. +Fighting Chance, The. By Robert W. Chambers. +Flamsted Quarries. By Mary E. Waller. +Flying Mercury, The. By Eleanor M. Ingram. +For a Maiden Brave. By Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. +Four Million, The. By O. Henry. +Four Pool's Mystery, The. By Jean Webster. +Fruitful Vine, The. By Robert Hichens. +Ganton & Co. By Arthur J. Eddy. +Gentleman of France, A. By Stanley Weyman. +Gentleman, The. By Alfred Ollivant. +Get-Rick-Quick-Wallingford. By George Randolph Chester. +Gilbert Neal. By Will N. Harben. +Girl and the Bill, The. By Bannister Merwin. +Girl from His Town, The. By Marie Van Vorst. +Girl Who Won, The. By Beth Ellis. +Glory of Clementina, The. By William J. Locke. +Glory of the Conquered, The. By Susan Glaspell. +God's Good Man. By Marie Corelli. +Going Some. By Rex Beach. +Golden Web, The. By Anthony Partridge. +Green Patch, The. By Bettina von Hutten. +Happy Island (sequel to "Uncle William"). By Jennette Lee. +Hearts and the Highway. By Cyrus Townsend Brady. +Held for Orders. By Frank H. Spearman. +Hidden Water. By Dane Coolidge. +Highway of Fate, The. By Rosa N. Carey. +Homesteaders, The. By Kate and Virgil D. Boyles. +Honor of the Big Snows, The. By James Oliver Curwood. +Hopalong Cassidy. By Clarence E. Mulford. +Household of Peter, The. By Rosa N. Carey. +House of Mystery, The. By Will Irwin. +House of the Lost Court, The. By C. N. Williamson. +House of the Whispering Pines, The. By Anna Katherine Green. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +POPULAR COPYRIGHT BOOKS +AT MODERATE PRICES + +Ask your dealer for a complete list of A. L. Burt Company's Popular +Copyright Fiction. + +Max. By Katherine Cecil Thurston. +Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes. By A. Conan Doyle. +Millionaire Baby, The. By Anna Katharine Green. +Missioner, The. By E. Phillips Oppenheim. +Miss Selina Lue. By Maria Thompson Daviess. +Mistress of Brae Farm, The. By Rosa N. Carey. +Money Moon, The. By Jeffery Farnol. +Motor Maid, The. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. +Much Ado About Peter. By Jean Webster. +Mr. Pratt. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +My Brother's Keeper. By Charles Tenny Jackson. +My Friend the Chauffeur. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. +My Lady Caprice (author of the "Broad Highway"). Jeffery Farnel. +My Lady of Doubt. By Randall Parrish. +My Lady of the North. By Randall Parrish. +My Lady of the South. By Randall Parrish. +Mystery Tales. By Edgar Allen Poe. +Nancy Stair. By Elinor Macartney Lane. +Ne'er-Do-Well, The. By Rex Beach. +No Friend Like a Sister. By Rosa N. Carey. +Officer 666. By Barton W. Currie and Augustin McHugh. +One Braver Thing. By Richard Dehan. +Order No. 11. By Caroline Abbot Stanley. +Orphan, The. By Clarence E. Mulford. +Out of the Primitive. By Robert Ames Bennett. +Pam. By Bettina von Hutten. +Pam Decides. By Bettina von Hutten. +Pardners. By Rex Beach. +Partners of the Tide. By Joseph C. Lincoln. +Passage Perilous, The. By Rosa N. Carey. +Passers By. By Anthony Partridge. +Paternoster Ruby, The. By Charles Edmonds Walk. +Patience of John Moreland, The. By Mary Dillon. +Paul Anthony, Christian. By Hiram W. Hays. +Phillip Steele. By James Oliver Curwood. +Phra the Phoenician. By Edwin Lester Arnold. +Plunderer, The. By Roy Norton. +Pole Baker. By Will N. Harben. +Politician, The. By Edith Huntington Mason. +Polly of the Circus. By Margaret Mayo. +Pool of Flame, The. By Louis Joseph Vance. +Poppy. By Cynthia Stockley. +Power and the Glory, The. By Grace McGowan Cooke. +Price of the Prairie, The. By Margaret Hill McCarter. +Prince of Sinners, A. By E. Phillis Oppenheim. +Prince or Chauffeur. By Lawrence Perry. +Princess Dehra, The. By John Reed Scott. +Princess Passes, The. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. +Princess Virginia, The. By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. +Prisoners of Chance. By Randall Parrish. +Prodigal Son, The. By Hall Caine. +Purple Parasol, The. By George Barr McCutcheon. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The White Sister, by F. 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