diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/53905-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53905-8.txt | 10357 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 10357 deletions
diff --git a/old/53905-8.txt b/old/53905-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index dfe06c0..0000000 --- a/old/53905-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10357 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Nostalgia, by Grazia Deledda - -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/license - - -Title: Nostalgia - -Author: Grazia Deledda - -Translator: Helen Hester Colvill - -Release Date: January 6, 2017 [EBook #53905] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOSTALGIA *** - - - - -Produced by Andrés V. Galia, Chris Curnow and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - NOSTALGIA - - BY - - - GRAZIA DELEDDA - AUTHOR OF 'CENERE,' ETC. - - TRANSLATED BY - - HELEN HESTER COLVILL - (KATHARINE WYLDE) - - AUTHOR OF 'THE STEPPING-STONE,' ETC. - - - LONDON - CHAPMAN AND HALL, LTD. - - 1905 - - - - - RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, - BREAD STREET HILL, E.C., AND - BUNGAY, SUFFOLK. - - - - - INTRODUCTION - - -Since the days of Latin, to how few authors has it been given to -obtain an European reputation! - -We English seem exceptionally slow in making ourselves acquainted -with the works of foreigners. Dante and Cervantes, Goethe and Dumas, -are perhaps no worse known among us than they are in their homes; -but we seldom find out a modern writer till he has been the round -of all the other countries. We are opinionated in England. We think -other folk barbarians, even if we don't call them so; we visit them -for the making of comparisons, generally in our own favour; of trying -their manners and customs, arts and morals, not by their standard -but by ours. We never forget that on the map of Europe there is the -big continent, and away in a corner, by themselves, extraneous, -cut off, and "very superior," physically and morally isolated and -self-contained, are our two not over enormous islands. We don't -regret that sea-voyage, literal and metaphorical, which is necessary -to transport us to the lands of the barbarians; and though we travel -a great deal, I declare I think we all (and especially newspaper -correspondents) go about enclosed in a little bubble of our own foggy -atmosphere, seeing only the things we intend to see, hearing the -things we mean to hear, and already believe. We are poor linguists -moreover, and when we talk with the barbarians we only catch half -they say and omit all attention to what they hint; we frighten them -by our abruptness, our unintentional hortatoriness and unconscious -conceit, so that they don't say to us what they mean, nor tell what -they suppose to be true. We come home swollen with false report and -evil surmise, and at once commit ourselves to criticism and laudation -equally beside the mark. I wonder now do we really understand the -errors of Abdul Hamed and Nicholas II as thoroughly as we think we -do? and in our long glibness about the Dreyfus case has it never -occurred to us we may have been partly deluded?--as the barbarians -were deluded when they chattered of us in the time of the Boer War! - -Well, we can't help our position in the far-away corner of the map; -but perhaps we should become less odd and more sympathetic if we read -the barbarian's books a little oftener; books in which he is talking -to his brother barbarians, and has not been questioned by an island -catechist; books, superior or inferior to our own it matters little, -which at least are written from another standpoint, and which by -their mere perusal must extend our knowledge, and remind us that "it -takes all sorts to make a world." - -The best way, of course, is to read foreign books in their original -language. Don Quixote was right when he said translation was a -bad job at its best. But life is short and the gift of tongues -is miraculous; some of us are too busy with our Dante and our -Schopenhauer to waste time on a railway novel, and more are lazy -and can't be bothered to look out words in a dictionary. The humble -translator has his function. If he can succeed in giving any of his -author's spirit, he may interest his reader enough to send him to the -original itself next time;--in which case the translator will have -done a worthy deed, and the author will perhaps forgive a certain -mangling of his ideas, spoiling of his best passages and general -rubbing of the bloom from his peach, inevitable in a process scarce -easier than changing the skin of an Ethiopian or repainting the spots -of a leopard. - - * * * * * - -Grazia Deledda, the new writer, for not so many years have passed -since the publication of her first book, has already conquered not -only her fellow-countrymen but many more distant peoples. Several of -her novels have been put into French for the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ -and have appeared in Germany in various magazines and journals. One -at least has been published in America, and this particular book, -_Nostalgie_, is in process of translation into German, Spanish, -Russian, Dutch, Swedish, and French. In England alone--poor, -isolated, ignorant England--is the author's name almost unknown. - -She is a Sardinian, and most of her books have been about her native -island, the simple folk, and quiet histories of a forgotten corner -where the tourist has hardly penetrated. But Signora Deledda now -lives in Rome, and true to her method she observes and describes -the things and places about her, the people among whom her lot is -cast. The scene of _Nostalgie_ is therefore laid in the capital, but -with constant allusion to a district in the north of Italy evidently -familiar--her husband's country--which she tells us is dear to her -as a second home, and from which she has dated her preface. As a -writer she prides herself on her Realism--strange, ill-comprehended, -often misapplied word! The realism of the highly imaginative may -easily seem romance to the prosaic; and Signora Deledda will pardon -us if we say that if only in her pictures of scenery, in her intimate -knowledge of the influence of Nature on the heart and the mind of -her votaries, there is something very superior to realism--at least -in the common acceptation of the term. Grazia Deledda sees her -figures set in a landscape, belonging to it, born of it. Half the -tragedy of this book arises from the fact that the heroine having -lived alone with Nature is suddenly transplanted to a city where she -imagines herself bereaved of the mighty mother. Years have to go over -before she realises that the mighty mother never really deserts her -children, and that the "still sad music of Humanity" is as much a -part of Nature as the sough of the wind, the rustling of the leaves -in the poplar-trees, and the unending roll of the river waters. - -The form of Signora Deledda's novels is almost autobiographical. -There is one principal character, hero or heroine as the case may be, -and the story develops from his or her point of view. In the book -before us, we know all about Regina, we are, as it were, inside her; -but the other personages are known to us only in so far as she knows -them. We are never admitted to a scene from which she is absent, -nor is anything explained to us but in so far as she understood -or guessed it herself. The minor characters are little more than -sketched; figures in a crowd of which Regina saw the outside and -occasionally touched the soul. One _feels_ the gracious influence -of her mother as she felt it, but we are told little about her and -practically never see her in action. The plot is slight, but it -hangs together perfectly with unity and focus, never giving a feeling -of strain. It is all very un-English; neither the life nor the actors -are like ours, nor at all like what is described in our novels. The -history and romance of Rome are sternly omitted. History and romance -are already the property of the foreigners "who come down on Rome -like a swarm of locusts," who wear "dress fasteners" and "impossible -hats," who "resemble a nation of inquisitive children amusing -themselves in the desecration of a stupendous sepulchre." - -Yet even for the foreigner the supreme interest of Rome must be that -it is no mere museum, but a living city still. Busy with churches -and temples, statues and paintings, inscriptions and sites, we are -apt to overlook the contemporary Romans whom we have not come forth -to see. To themselves they must necessarily be the most important -part of the Eternal City; and the greater number of them are not -princes and dukes with historic names, nor even renowned churchmen, -or patriots and kingdom builders, but good, simple, workaday, -middle-class persons such as are the backbone of all countries and of -all societies. - -It is among such unnoticed folk that Grazia Deledda has taken us in -_Nostalgie_; and it is not too much to say that her pages have a -distinction and a force which recalls, at least in a measure, the -_style qui rugit_ of the author of _Madame Bovary_. - - HELEN HESTER COLVILL. - - - - - AUTHOR'S PREFACE - - -TO MY HUSBAND-- - -Do you remember a young and attractive lady who called on us one day -in the course of our first year's residence in Rome? Her visit was -surprising; for I did not know the coronet-surmounted name on her -card, and at that time few outside our small circle of intimates had -discovered our nest in Via Modena, or had courage to climb a century -of steps in pursuit of two useless persons unpractised in giving -letters of introduction or inditing dedicatory epistles. The lady, -whom I will call Regina, explained, however, that she came from your -native province and was the bearer of messages from your friends. We -talked a long time of that vicinity, dear to me as a second home; -then she asked if I did not yearn after my native Sardinia, whose -children are reputed always great sufferers from homesickness. - -"Not so much," I replied. "I love Rome with all my heart; besides, -I am so busy with my work that I have no time for the indulgence of -idle phantasies." - -"You work so hard? Happy you!" sighed the young lady; and added, -"But, no! no! Homesickness is not mere phantasy; nor is it a disease, -as so many call it! It is a passion; and, like other passions, can -drive one mad if ungratified. During my first months in Rome I -suffered from acute and morbid nostalgia; but now I have been home -for a while and have come back almost cured." - -"I don't know----," I said; "such nostalgia as I have felt has been -quite harmless." - -"Then there must be several kinds, some harmless, some dangerous," -conceded the young lady with a smile; and she continued rather shyly: -"but our whole existence is one long chain of nostalgia--don't you -think so? The nostalgia of yesterday, the nostalgia of to-morrow; -the longing for what is lost, the yearning for what can never be -attained----" - -After this first visit we saw Regina several times. I liked her, she -was so clever and original; but to you she proved unsympathetic. "I -can't see clearly into her life," you complained to me more than once. - -This much we learned about her. Her husband was far from rich and -she had brought him but a slender dowry, yet they rented a handsome -Apartment and lived almost luxuriously. We, on the other hand, who -worked hard and between us made an income the double of theirs, were -content with the modest life of poor artists; gladdened indeed--like -the careless existence of the birds building in the laurel below -our windows--by the songs of love and the mere joy of living and -struggling on in good hope of victory. - -Remembering, as I minutely do, the whole simple romance of our -early married life--on this day when we have attained to almost all -our hopes (a little by my good-will, chiefly by your intelligence -and activity, never by stooping to any transaction disapproved by -our conscience)--to you, dear comrade of my work and of my life, -I dedicate this tale. In it the reader will not find one of those -stale themes for which my romances have been unjustly blamed. It is -a simple narrative, a transcript from life, from this our modern -life, so multiform, so interesting, sometimes so joyous, oftener so -sad; beautiful always as an autumn tree laden with fruit--some of it -rotten,--and with leaves--many of them already dead. - -A simple narrative, I say; so simple that criticism deeming it a test -of my literary powers, hitherto devoted only to the passions and -sorrows of a primitive society, may deem that I have failed. But such -judgment will not disturb me. This novel has not been written as a -test; and criticism resembles the Exchequer which almost always taxes -us on capital greater than what we really possess. - -Alas! that we cannot contest its terrible authority! nor make it -understand that our patrimony, though small, is at least our own! If -we forced ourselves to give all it has the audacity to demand, we -should not only ruin ourselves, but to the last remain unsuccessful -in appeasing our creditor. - - GRAZIA. - - RONCADELLO (CASALMAGGIORE). _October, 1904._ - - - - - CONTENTS. - - PAGE - INTRODUCTION iii - AUTHOR'S PREFACE ix - PART I 1 - CHAPTER I 3 - CHAPTER II 27 - CHAPTER III 59 - CHAPTER IV 76 - CHAPTER V 82 - CHAPTER VI 90 - CHAPTER VII 109 - PART II 131 - CHAPTER I 133 - CHAPTER II 150 - CHAPTER III 164 - CHAPTER IV 177 - PART III 193 - CHAPTER I 195 - CHAPTER II 214 - CHAPTER III 219 - CHAPTER IV 241 - CHAPTER V 261 - CHAPTER VI 273 - CHAPTER VII 295 - - - - - PART I - - NOSTALGIA - - - - - CHAPTER I - - -Rome was near. - -The November moon illuminated the Campagna--an immense -mother-o'-pearl moon, clear and sad. The violence of the express -train was met by the violence of a raging wind. - -Regina dozed and was dreaming herself still at home; the rumble -of the train seemed the clatter of the mill upon the Po. Suddenly -Antonio's hand pressed hers and she awoke with a start. - -"We are near arriving," said the young husband. - -Regina sat up, leaned towards the closed window and looked out. The -glass reflected the interior of the compartment--the lamp, her own -figure wrapped in a long, light-coloured cloak, her face wan with -weariness. She half-closed her large, short-sighted eyes, and in the -misty moonlight, against the grey background caused by the reflection -of her cloak, she made out the landscape--bluish undulations fleeting -by, a mysterious pathway, a tree with silver leaves lashed by the -wind, and in the distance a long line of aqueducts, the arches of -which disappeared into the moonlight and seemed like a row of immense -inhospitable doors. This of the aqueducts was no doubt optical -illusion; but Regina, who had little confidence in her eyes yet was -obstinate in refusing spectacles, felt none the less excited by -the sublime visions she believed herself seeing in the dimness of -the wind-swept window-pane. Rome! she was filled with childish joy -at the mere thought that Rome was near. Rome! the long-dreamed-of -wonder city, the world's metropolis, the home of all splendours, all -delight--Rome, which was now to become her own! She forgot everything -else; fatigue, mourning for the dear things lost, trepidation as to -her future, fear of the strangers awaiting her, the embarrassments -of the first days of marriage, all sadness, disappointment, -delusion--all disappeared in the realisation of her long dream so -ardently indulged. - -Antonio got up and joined her at the window, which reflected his -fine person--tall, fair, easy in attitude, dominant in manner. -Regina saw--still in the glass--his long grey eyes looking at her -caressingly, his well-shaped mouth smiling and suggesting a kiss, and -she felt happy, happy, happy! - -"Think!" said Antonio, bending over her as if to confide a secret; -"think, my queen! We are at Rome!" - -She did not reply. "Are you thinking of it?" he insisted. - -"Of course I am!" - -"Does your heart beat?" - -Regina smiled, a trifle contemptuously, not choosing to let him see -all her excitement and delight. - -Antonio looked at his watch. - -"A quarter of an hour more. If there wasn't such a wind, I'd make you -look out." - -"I will. Put down the glass." - -"I tell you there's too much wind." - -"I'll look out all the same," she said, with the obstinacy of a -spoilt child. - -Antonio tried to open the window, but the wind was really too strong, -and Regina changed her mind. - -"Shut it up! Shut it up!" she cried. - -He obeyed. - -"But think! think!" he repeated, "you are at Rome! _They_ will be -just starting for the station," he observed gravely, and advised her -to put on her hat and get herself ready. "Settle your hair," he said; -"and where have you put the powder?" - -"Am I very hideous?" asked Regina, passing her hand over her face. - -She sat down, opened her dressing-bag, smoothed her hair, powdered -her face; then again put on the grey cloak which Antonio held for -her, and buttoned it up. Her little face emerged from its sable -collar as from a cup. It was pale and tired, all lips and eyes, -reminding one of the pretty little face of a kitten. - -"That's all right!" said Antonio, surveying her adoringly. - -Again she rose and leaned against the door. A long wall was fleeting -past the train; then came houses, hedges, gardens, canes bending -under the wind, now and then lamps flaring yellow in the great -whiteness of the autumn moon. - -"San Paolo! The Tiber!" said Antonio, still at Regina's side. - -San Paolo! The Tiber! Regina just perceived the sheen of the river -and her heart beat strongly. Yet, as often happened to her, after the -first moment's wild delight, a shadow of melancholy diffidence stole -over her soul. - -"Yes!" she thought, "Rome! the capital, the wonder city; where there -is no fog, which is full of sunshine and flowers! But what is there -in store for me there? Young, happy, loved, I have come to throw -myself into the arms of Rome as I have thrown myself into the arms -of Antonio. What will Rome be able to give me? We are not rich, and -the great city is like--like _people_, who give little to and care -little for those who are not rich. But we aren't poor either!" she -concluded, comforting herself. - -The engine whistled, and Regina started involuntarily. Behind a -wind-blown hedge, straight before her in the moonlight and the glare -of the lamps which now had multiplied in number, a small house -started into sight for a moment, and vanished as if by magic. - -"It might be my home!" she told herself sadly, remembering the dear -maternal nest, planted pleasantly on the high bank of the Po. - -The train shrieked again, beginning to slacken speed. - -"Here we are!" said Antonio; and Regina's recollections dissolved as -the apparition of the house had dissolved a moment before. - -After this, notwithstanding her resolution not to be upset, not to be -surprised, but to make calm study of her own impressions, she became -hopelessly bewildered and saw everything as through a veil. - -Antonio was pulling the light luggage down from the rack; he -overturned the bonnet-box containing the bride's beautiful white hat; -she stooped to pick it up, flushed with dismay, then returned to the -window and rearranged her cloak and fur collar. Lines of monstrous -houses, orange against the velvety blue of the sky, fleeted by -rapidly; the wind abated, the lamps became innumerable, golden, -white, violet--their crude rays vanquishing the melancholy moonlight. -The glare grew and grew, became magnificent, pervaded an enclosure -into which the train rushed with deafening roar. - -Rome! - -Hundreds of intent egotistic faces, illuminated by the violet -brilliance of the electric light, passed before Regina's agitated -gaze. Here and there she distinguished a few figures, a lady with red -hair, a man in a check suit, a pale girl with a picture hat, a bald -gentleman, a raised stick, a fluttering handkerchief--but she saw -nothing distinctly; she had a strange fancy that this unnamed alien -crowd was a deputation sent to welcome her--not over-kindly--by the -great city to which she was giving herself. - -The carriage doors were thrown violently open, a babel of human -voices resounded above the whistles and the throbbing of the engines; -on the platform people were running about and jostling each other. - -"Roma--a--a!" - -"Porter--r--r!" - -Antonio was collecting the hand luggage, but Regina stood gazing at -the scene. Many smiling, curious, anxious persons were still standing -in groups before the carriage doors; others had already escaped and -were disappearing out of the station exit. - -"There's no one for us, Antonio," said Regina, a little surprised; -but she had no sooner spoken than she perceived a knot of persons -returning along the platform, and understood that these were _they_. -She jumped out and looked harder. Yes, it was they--three men, -one in a light-coloured overcoat; two women, one short and stout, -the other very tall, very thin, her face hidden in the shadow of -her great black hat. The thin lady held a bouquet of flowers, and -her strange figure, tightly compressed in a long coat of which the -mother-o'-pearl buttons could be seen a mile off, struck Regina at -once. This must be Arduina, her sister-in-law, editress of a Woman's -Rights paper, who had written her two or three extraordinary letters. - -"Mother!" cried Antonio, flinging himself from the carriage. - -Regina found herself on the fat lady's panting bosom; then she felt -the pressure of the buttons she had seen from afar; in one hand she -was holding the bouquet, the other was clasped by a plump, soft, -masculine hand. - -The slightly amused voice of Antonio was introducing-- - -"My brother Mario, clerk in the Board of Control; my brother Gaspare, -clerk at the War Office; my brother Massimo, junior clerk at the War -Office----" - -"That's enough," said the last, bowing graciously. All smiled, but -Antonio went on-- - -"And this is Arduina, the crazy one----" - -"Joking as usual!" cried the latter. - -"Well, here is Regina, my wife! Here she is! How are you, Gaspare?" - -"Pretty fit. And you? Hungry?" - -"Are you very tired, my dear?" asked the trembling voice of the old -lady, her face close to Regina's. - -Notwithstanding the scent of the flowers, Regina could have -wished her mother-in-law's lips further off, and she shuddered -involuntarily. In that strange place, at that late hour, under that -metallic, unpleasantly glaring, electric splendour, all these people, -pressed upon the bride, speaking in an unfamiliar accent and staring -at her with ill-concealed curiosity. She conceived a dislike to them -all. Even Antonio, who at that moment was more taken up with them -than with his wife, seemed unlike himself, a stranger, a man of a -different race from hers. She felt completely alone, lost, confused; -had presently the sensation of being carried away, borne along in a -wave of the crowd. Outside she saw a mountain of enormous vehicles -drawn up in line on the shining wood pavement; it seemed to her made -of blue tiles, and on the damp air she fancied the scent of a forest. -The electric light blinded her short-sighted eyes; she thought she -saw the forest in the distance, a line of trees black against the -steely sky; and the violet globes of the lamps suggested in the heart -of those black trees some sort of miraculous burning fruit. There -was magic in the late hour, in the vastness of the enclosure bounded -by the imaginary wood; the people silently lost themselves and -disappeared as into a wet and shining morass. - -"Let's walk--it's quite close," said Antonio, taking her arm. "Well! -it's pretty big, isn't it, this station yard?" - -"It _is_ big!" she responded, genuinely astonished; "but it's been -raining here, hasn't it? How lovely it all is!" - -Regina felt happy again, at Antonio's side, squeezed up against -him by the large and panting person of her mother-in-law. Yes, -certainly! Rome was the dream-city, full of gardens, fountains, -sublime buildings; a city great and splendid by day and by night! She -felt joyous as if she had drunk wine; she chattered with feverish -animation. Never afterwards did she succeed in remembering what -she said in that first hour of arrival; she did remember that her -pleasure was marred by the panting and sighing of her mother-in-law, -by Arduina's silly laughter, by the talk of the brothers who stepped -just behind her, arguing about trifles. - -Antonio had requested his family not to announce his arrival to the -more distant relations; however, no sooner had they got to Via Torino -and the great palace in which the Venutellis lived on the fourth and -fifth floors, than the panting old lady confessed-- - -"Clara and her girl are here. They came in to spend the evening, and -we couldn't get rid of them. They guessed, you see." - -"The deuce!" said Antonio; "never mind, I'll soon pack them off for -you!" - -The gas was lighted, and Regina was impressed by the grand entrance -hall and the marble staircase, which seemed continuation of the -splendours she had found in _piazza_ and street. - -"Courage, my queen!" said Antonio; "this is a veritable Jacob's -ladder! Go on in front, you fellows!" - -The three men and Arduina pressed forward with the nimbleness of -habit; Regina herself tried to run, but she soon got tired and out of -breath. - -"These stairs are the death of me!" sighed the mother-in-law; "ah! my -dear child, I did not always live on a fourth floor!" - -Regina was not listening. Cries, laughter, exclamations, a merry -uproar, rang from the top of the stair;--then came a whirlwind, -a rustle, a whiff of scent, a vision of flounces, chains, lace, -yellow hair, which overwhelmed and nearly overturned the bride, the -bridegroom, and the old lady. - -"Mind you don't break your neck, Claretta, my dear!" cried Antonio. - -The lovely being clasped Regina tight in her fragrant arms, covering -her with impassioned kisses. - -"Dearest! Welcome! Welcome, dearest! A thousand good wishes and -congratulations! Mamma is up there waiting for you!" - -"Pray reserve some kisses for me!" said Antonio, dryly. - -Claretta, without ado, kissed him rapidly on the cheek; then -again seized Regina's hand, and drew her up and up, shouting and -laughing, tall, rustling, fragrant, elegant. Regina followed, a -little envious, even jealous, but childishly bewitched by so much -easy loveliness. Claretta, filling the whole stair with her cries -and peals of laughter, almost carried the bride, brought her into -the drawing-room, threw her on the soft bosom of fat Aunt Clara, -and then herself dragged her through the whole Apartment on a tour -of inspection. The rooms were lighted by gas, and all the furniture -was polished and smelly with paraffin: space everywhere was narrow -and choked up with furniture, coarse draperies, jute carpets, -crochet work, great cushions embroidered in wool, Japanese fans and -umbrellas. In some of the rooms it was impossible to move. Regina's -throat was caught by a feeling of suffocation. The remembrance of her -beautiful country home, of its large rooms, so sunny and so simple, -assailed her with an anguish of tenderness. To comfort herself she -had to say to Claretta-- - -"We shall only stay here till we've found a nice Apartment for -ourselves. That'll be easy, won't it?" - -"Not so very easy. The foreigners come down on Rome like a swarm of -locusts." - -This was the discouraging reply of the cousin, who stopped before -every mirror to admire herself, bending this way and that, and -talking loud that the young men in the dining-room might hear her. - -"Here! this is your own room, your _nid d'amour_, you birds of -passage!" she said, taking Regina into a corner room, where they -found Antonio, his mother, Arduina, the maid-servant, and the -portmanteaux. - -The room was large, but had an oppressively low ceiling, painted grey -with vulgar blue arabesques; three windows, one close to the foot -of the bed, were smothered in heavy draperies, and the massive bed -itself was burdened with huge pillows and counterpanes. The bridal -trunks and portmanteaux completed the barricade, and Regina's sense -of asphyxia perceptibly increased. Silent and sad she surveyed the -ugly room; she seemed lost in some painful dream, in some strange -prison where everything fettered and mortally oppressed her. Oh dear! -all these people! These women, who surrounded, crushed, smothered -her! Tired and sleepy, her physical irritability made itself almost -morbidly felt at the touch of all these unknown, inquisitive, cruel -people. She was yearning for solitude and repose; at any rate she -wanted to wash, dress, rearrange her hair. They did not leave her a -moment alone. Claretta had no notion of forsaking the looking-glass; -Arduina, on the look out for copy, catechised her about her -impressions; the mother-in-law never stopped staring with lachrymose -eyes. - -Regina took off her hat and cloak; her little face, all eyes and -lips, seemed pale and frightened under the waves of her hair, black, -abundant and curly. Antonio was paying no heed to his bride; he -arranged the luggage, and asked his mother news of this one and that. -The old lady puffed and sighed, and answered his questions, but never -took her eyes off the new daughter-in-law. - -"Where shall I wash my hands?" asked Regina. Her warm brown eyes, -generally velvety and sweet, were now drooping with fatigue, and in -expression almost wild. - -"Here!" cried Arduina, precipitating herself on the washstand, -"you'll find everything here, dear! soap, powder, comb--What sort of -soap do you like?" - -Regina did not answer. Mechanically she washed herself, accepting -the towel which her sister-in-law presented, and smoothed her hair, -stooping to look in the low looking-glass. - -"Sit down," said Arduina, setting a chair, "you can't see like that." - -"No, I can't see sitting; I'm short-sighted," said Regina, with -increasing irritation. - -This piece of news plunged the ladies into consternation. Claretta -actually turned her back on the glass; Signora Anna, who was -examining the lining of Regina's cloak, looked up almost in tears; -Arduina studied her sister-in-law's beautiful orbs with astonishment. - -"Short-sighted? With such lovely eyes! and so young!" exclaimed the -old lady. - -"Have you eye-glasses?" asked Claretta. - -"Yes, but they're no good. I hate them." - -"They're very _chic_ though," said Arduina. "My dear, do loosen -your hair at your temples--it's too dragged. What splendid hair you -have! I'll do it for you to-morrow. Wait a moment--" and she raised -her hand; but the bride's little head, which seemed so small and -insignificant, shook itself fiercely. - -"No, no. It will do well enough," she said. - -Her tone admitted of no reply; and the authoress understood that -Regina was a commanding creature of a superior race. For this -reason she looked at her with pitying tenderness and compassionate -admiration. Struck by this look, Regina for the first time noticed -her sister-in-law, whom Antonio had described as a fool. Arduina was -tall, with a narrow chest and a countenance of yellowish wood. She -had small, colourless, frightened eyes, thin lips with discoloured -teeth, and three curls of pale hair. She was singularly plain, and -now Regina perceived further that she was melancholy and enslaved. -But this produced no pity in the bride, rather a sense of malicious -consolation. In this odious world into which she had stepped through -the door of the Apartment, there were victims like Arduina, in -comparison with whom she was an empress! All this passed through her -mind during the few minutes in which she was settling her hair in the -presence of the three staring women. - -Antonio at last noticed his bride's annoyance, and sent the ladies -away, pushing his cousins out familiarly. - -"Be so kind as to take yourselves off. I don't require your -assistance at _my_ toilette. Go away. Make haste. We want rest." - -"You can sleep all to-morrow. It's going to rain," said his mother. - -"Let us hope not." - -"I expect it will." - -"Bother the weather prophets!" said Regina. - -At last the women were gone; and in an instant Antonio was by -Regina's side, kissing her, leaning his face against her troubled -one, and saying in his caressing voice-- - -"Cheer up; don't be so depressed! You shall just eat a mouthful and -then get at once to bed. To-morrow we'll escape--we'll go out by -ourselves. We won't let them bore us. Cheer up!" - -He put his arm round her and drew her to the dining-room, humming a -merry tune-- - - "Mousey doesn't care for cream, - Mousey wants to marry the Queen; - If the King won't let her go, - Mousey'll break his bones, you know." - -But Regina had no smiles left. - -Scarcely was she seated on one of the comfortless Vienna chairs which -surrounded the overburdened table than she felt her back broken and -her eyelids weighed down by the whole fatigue of the journey. Again -she seemed in a bad dream, looking through a veil at a picture of -vulgar figures. Yes, vulgar the face of her mother-in-law--fat, red, -puffy, outlined by the hard line of hair, over-shiny and over-black -for nature; vulgar that of Mario, which was much like his mother's, -with the same small blue eyes, the same mouth hanging half-open as he -breathed slowly and noisily; vulgar, again, the face of Gaspare--rosy -all over, hairless below the shining line of his bald forehead; and -that of Massimo, who was dandified but decadent, something like -Antonio, but with long, reddish, oily hair and bold grey eyes. -Claretta herself was vulgar; the very type of a _bourgeois_ beauty. -Without understanding why, Regina remembered the crowds half-seen -at the passing stations and on the Roman platform; the faces now -surrounding her stood out from the confusion of those unnoticed ones, -but themselves belonged to the crowd, and were no better than the -crowd. A whole world separated her from them. - -Notwithstanding the hour and Antonio's promise of dispatch, the -supper lasted an immense time. It was served by a strapping, -fair-haired girl in a pink blouse, who never took her astonished eyes -from the bride's face, and every moment tripped and stumbled, as if -determined to break something. - -This figure which came and went seemed the principal one of the -picture. Every one watched the girl and talked to her. Signora Anna -started every time she opened the door. - -Even Antonio addressed her. - -"Well, Marina, and how are all the sweethearts?" he asked; and added, -indicating Regina, "are you satisfied? Which is the prettier, she or -Signora Arduina?" - -Marina blushed, giggled, ran away, and did not return. - -Presently Gaspare rose gravely, threw his napkin over his shoulder, -and went in search of her. An altercation was heard in the kitchen. -Then Gaspare returned, wrathful and very red. - -"Mother, the mutton is burnt!" he announced tragically; "you must go -and see after it." - -The old lady groaned, got up, went out, came back--and did not stay -quiet for another moment! - -"Mother!" implored Antonio, "do sit down!" - -"Mother!" urged Gaspare, still wrathful, "go and look after her!" - -"Oh, these servants!" said the mother-in-law, turning to Regina, "one -shouldn't mention them, I know, but they're the ruin of families. -I'll tell you afterwards----" - -"It's one of the gravest of social problems," said Massimo, -sarcastically, looking straight before him. - -"But one can't live without servants," cried Gaspare. - -"Yet the servants are the death of you?" - -"Oh, I'll be the death of them if they don't do their business," said -Gaspare, and they all laughed. - -Notwithstanding the old lady's irruptions into the kitchen the -courses were a long time coming. Talk grew animated. Massimo -chattered with the cousin; Signora Anna expatiated to Signora Clara -on the delinquencies of the maid. - -"How are you getting on with your Gigione?" Antonio asked Gaspare; -and his brother replied, abusing his chief as he had abused Marina. - -"Did you get my last letter?" Arduina demanded of Regina, under cover -of the general noise. - -"Which?" - -"The one in which I asked information about the state of private -benevolence in Mantua." - -"Oh, pray leave her in peace," interrupted Antonio testily. - -Regina thought of her old home, of the beautiful picture seen through -the window of the great dining-parlour, the woods, the silver river -sparkling in the summer sunshine--all lost! The actual picture of -the woods, and the painted picture above the chimneypiece, a river -scene by Baratta, showing the green banks of the Parma, and white -boats against a violet sky--all vanished--vanished for ever! Seated -on this back-breaking chair, among all these people who chattered of -vulgar things, dismay again invaded her soul, the dismay felt by the -condemned at the thought of association with his fellow-prisoners. -Antonio paid her little attention; he was sucked into the current of -his brothers' talk and had become a stranger to her. Again he made -some jest at Arduina's expense; the maid looked at the ladies and -laughed. Indeed, they all laughed. Why did they laugh? Was happiness -making Antonio cruel? His brother Mario--a man no longer young, who -seldom spoke, but always reddened when he heard his thought expressed -by somebody else--detested, as they all knew, his wife's scribbling -mania. So Antonio persisted in questioning his sister-in-law about -her newspaper, _The Future of Woman_. - -"It has reached a circulation of three copies," said Massimo, "and -it's clearly anxious to provoke quarrels, for it has printed a sonnet -from a Calabrian paper without leave." - -"My goodness! how witty you are!" cried Arduina, laughing, but her -whole face expressed a vague terror. - -Sor Mario, his eyes on his plate, grunted and munched like an -angry bullock. There followed a perfect explosion of childish -cruelty towards the poor creature, who, even to Regina, suggested a -caricature. - -"I've never succeeded in discovering the office of her paper," said -Claretta; "one ought to be able to go there if only to find the -editor." - -"There are plenty of editors in the street," answered Arduina; "a -girl like you could find one anywhere." - -"I don't see the sense of that!" cried Gaspare. - -"We never expect _you_ to see the sense of anything." - -"Come, show sense yourself!" interposed her husband, threatening her -with his fork. - -"Are you in the Woman Movement, Regina?" some one asked. - -"I? No!" answered the bride, as if starting from a dream. Then, -wishing to defend her sister-in-law, less out of pity for her than -out of dislike to the brothers, she added, "Perhaps Arduina will -convert me." - -"Antonio! get out your stick!" cried Gaspare, and again they all -laughed. - -The topic changed. They discussed a certain Madame Makuline, a -Russian princess long resident in Rome, to whom Antonio had been -introduced by Arduina, and who occasionally employed him in the -administration of her affairs. - -"She should give a wedding present to Regina," said the authoress; "I -expect her to dinner to-morrow; will you two come?" - -This intelligence somewhat restored Arduina's prestige, and Regina -breathed more freely. The conversation ran on countesses and -duchesses; Claretta cried, turning to Massimo-- - -"Oh, now I remember! You were seen yesterday----" - -"Wasn't I seen to-day?" - -"----running after Donna Maria del Carro's carriage. It was raining, -and you had no umbrella." - -"That's why I ran," he said, flattered and pleased. - -"No, my dear boy; you ran after the carriage." - -"Why?" asked the innocent Regina. - -"How sweet you are!" said the cousin. "He ran to be seen, of course! -The Marchesa del Carro likes handsome young men, even when she -doesn't know them." - -"Thank you very much," said Massimo, making a bow. - -Then they all got excited and talked of innumerable titled persons -of their acquaintance, telling their "lives and miracles." Signora -Clara, not to be left out, was insistent in describing the reception -costume of a countess. - -Regina listened. She did not confess it to herself, but she was -certainly pleased that her new relations had friends among the -aristocracy. - -At last they arrived at the coffee, and Signora Anna turned to Regina -intending to say something pleasant. - -"I expect you miss your Mamma," she began; "you can't get accustomed -to the idea of a second mother." - -But she was interrupted by Gaspare, who came from a second inspection -of the kitchen. - -"My dear mother, just come and look. Come!" he insisted, flicking the -corner of his napkin, "there's a flood in the kitchen. She has left -the tap running." - -The old lady had to get up; panting and puffing she followed her son -to the kitchen. Presently Marina was heard sobbing. - -"The man's unbearable!" said Arduina; "is that poor girl a slave? -From the point of view of----" - -"From the social point of view--" suggested Massimo. - -"Pardon me," observed Aunt Clara, "she left the tap running." - -"If ever I marry a man who meddles in the kitchen," said Claretta, -tightening her sash at the looking-glass, "I'll give him--from the -social point of view--such a hiding----" - -"I too!" agreed the authoress. - -Sor Mario, who was picking his teeth ferociously, uttered a grunt. - -Signora Anna came back followed by Marina, her eyes red, her lips -quivering. - -"Pooh! don't cry!" said Massimo, "it makes a fright of you. If the -pastrycook saw you now----" - -"What, is it a pastrycook this time?" joked Antonio. - -"Yes; his name's Stanislao." - -"But when I went away it was a penny-a-liner!" - -"I got rid of him. For more than three months I had no one," declared -Marina, all smiles again. - -"_Brava!_" said Claretta, "that's the best plan. Have you had a great -many?" - -"Four. No--five, counting the first. He was Peppino. He was an -official." - -"Good gracious! Where?" - -"At Campo Verano." - -"Oh! Did he perhaps dig there?" - -"Yes," said the girl, simply. - -They all burst out laughing, and again Regina felt choked. - -Were they always like this in this house? Even Antonio, her Antonio, -who was always gay, but with her never had shown himself vulgar--even -he appeared in a new light. - -Suddenly, however, while Signora Clara was repeating her description -of the countess's dress, Regina saw her husband looking at her -with distressed eyes, and she knew that her brows must have been -contracted in a frown. He got up, came over, and stroked her hair. - -"It's time for bed now. You're tired, aren't you?" he whispered, his -voice almost supplicating. - -Regina rose. Arduina and Claretta thought it necessary to run after -her, embracing and kissing her. When they had conducted her to the -bedroom, they kissed her again. - -Now she was alone with Antonio, and great was her relief. But alas! -the door opened immediately, and in came the mother-in-law. - -"What is it?" asked Regina, dismayed; and she threw herself on one of -the immense, encumbering arm-chairs, and closed her eyes. - -Signora Anna, sighing as usual, advanced to the bed. - -"Oh!" she exclaimed, in accents of tragedy, "these maids, now-a-days, -know nothing of their business! They have no heads. Forgive me, my -dearest child----" - -"What on earth has happened?" asked Antonio, half undressed. - -"She hasn't turned down the bed!" cried the poor lady, attacking the -pillows with her fat and trembling arms. - -She fussed about, altered all the blankets, tidied the -dressing-table, examined the jugs. Regina was waiting to undress; but -as the old lady would not go away, she leaned back in the arm-chair, -her eyes still closed, her hands folded in her lap. She listened -to her mother-in-law's uncertain step and panting breath; and she -thought with anguish of to-morrow. - -"And the morrow of that, and the next day, and for ever and ever, I -shall have to put up with these people! It's awful!" - -"Where are your things?" asked Antonio, in his pyjamas. - -Regina opened her eyes, got up hastily, and searched her portmanteau. -Lo! behind her the heavy panting of the old lady! - -"Let me, dear child! You go and undress. I'll find everything for -you." - -"No, no!" said Regina, vexed, "I'll do it myself." - -"Leave it all to me. Go and undress." - -"No!" - -"There's nothing for me but to dance!" said Antonio, cutting capers; -he was well made, and agile as a clown. - -"My dear daughter! what are you thinking of? That's a petticoat, not -a night-dress! This? Surely that's one of Antonio's flannel shirts? -Ah! a flannel night-dress! Dear me! doesn't it tickle you? But I -believe it's very cold in your part of the country. It's cold here, -too, when the _tramontana_ blows. The _tramontana_ blows for three -days at a time. Dear! what lovely embroidery! Did you do it yourself? -Listen----" - -But Regina could listen no longer. Rage possessed her, while the -old lady rummaged in the portmanteau, examining everything with the -greatest curiosity. Antonio was waltzing round the arm-chair; he -suddenly seized Regina, and whirled her away with him. - -"Oh!" she exclaimed, with a cry of suffering protest, "it's time now -to leave me in peace!" - -The hint was lost upon the old lady. She put everything straight in -the portmanteau, then came to Regina and embraced her lengthily. - -At last she did take herself off, and at last Regina was really -alone with her husband, but it was too late for her to feel great -comfort in the fact. She undressed and got into bed; into the huge, -solid bed, hard, and wide and cold as the bed of a river! She felt -shipwrecked; around her floated gaping trunks, boxes, curtains, -unpleasing furniture; above beetled the grey ceiling, overwhelming -as a rainy sky. Confused noises, vibrations in the silence of night, -penetrated from the distance, from some unknown and mysterious place. -Arduina's foolish laughter, Claretta's hysterical shrieks, echoed on -in the next room. And above these, above all voices far and near, -sounded a melancholy whistle, the sibilant lament of some nocturnal -train, which seemed to Regina a voice out of other times from a -distant place, a cry which called, invited, implored her to--what? -She did not know, did not remember; but she was sure she knew that -cry, that it had once told her something wonderful, that it was -sounding now only for her, having sought her out in the night of the -vast, unknown city;--that it was repeating to her things wild, sweet, -lacerating---- - -"At last!" said Antonio, embracing her. "This bed is a limitless -desert! Where are you? Oh, what little cold hands! You're trembling! -Are you cold?" - -"No." - -"Then why do you tremble?" he asked, in another tone; "are you not -happy, Regina?" - -She made no answer. - -"Are you not happy?" - -"I'm tired," she said, her eyes shut; "I still feel the shake of the -train. Do you hear that whistle?" - -"Ah!" she went on, as if speaking in a dream, "I know it now! It's -the whistle of the little steamer on the Po! Ah! let us start!" - -"We have hardly arrived, and already you want to go?" he said, his -voice half jesting, half bitter. - -She made no response. He thought she slept, and kept motionless for -fear of waking her. But presently he heard her laugh and felt quite -cheered. - -"What's the matter?" he asked, fondling her hand, which was beginning -to grow warm. - -"That official--was a gravedigger!" she murmured, still dreaming; "if -my sister Toscana had been here how she would have laughed!" - -"She's still in that old home of hers!" thought Antonio jealously. - -Long afterwards he confided to Regina that that night he had been -unable to sleep. He wanted to ask how she liked his mother and the -rest, but dared not put the question, guessing intuitively that she -would not answer him sincerely. - -He, too, heard the whistle which had reached the half-slumbering -Regina, and had lulled her in memories and hope. - -"Go? Is she already dreaming of going?" he thought, bitterly; and -remembered, not without resentment, her cold, sad, now and then -contemptuous manner during those first hours of communion with her -new relatives. Yet he could not but feel the measureless distance -which divided those relatives from the thoughtful, delicate creature -of a superior race whom he had dared to marry. - -"But she knew all about it!" he reflected; "I had told her -everything. I said to her: We're a family of working people, -descended from working people. My mother is just the housewife, my -sister-in-law is a harmless lunatic. She said she did not care--she -loved me, and that was enough. Then what more does she want?" - -He had a foolish desire to push her away, to distance her from -himself in that great, limitless bed; but she was so fragile, so -slight, so cold, lying like a dead thing on his warm, pulsing breast! - -"I've been wrong in bringing her here! I ought to have prepared our -own nest, and taken her there at once. She's like an uprooted flower -which must be planted at once in an adapted soil." - -He looked at her with profound tenderness, and remained motionless, -lest he should disturb the slumber which had descended on her -homesickness and fatigue. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - -On waking next morning Regina found herself alone in the big hard bed. - -It was raining; the room was oppressed by a grey, melancholy twilight -which seemed thrown from the ceiling. Vehicles were already rolling -in the street; screaming trams passed by; there was continued howling -of tempestuous wind, the whole making on Regina an impression of -unutterable dreariness. The luminous city of her dreams seemed -pervaded by this howling wind through which resounded a thousand -other voices; a ceaseless booming of toilsome life, dismal under -eternal rain. - -Presently she looked at the room, screwing up her eyes to distinguish -the various objects. The grey ceiling, the three grey windows, -especially that one at the foot of the bed, were positively funereal; -the rough linen of the sheets and pillow-case, the coarse embroidery -of their adornment filled her with horror. - -And Antonio, where was he? In her ill-humour Regina resented his -having risen silently so as not to wake her, his having left her -alone in the immensity of that strange bed; but almost immediately -the door was gently pushed open and Antonio looked in. - -"There they are, her big eyes!" he said gaily, and came over -hurriedly to kiss her lips; "so you've come to, little one, have you? -Are you awake?" - -"I think so," she murmured rather hoarsely, and threw her arm round -his neck. "Is it raining?" - -"Yes; it's raining needlessly hard!" he said, heaving an exaggerated -sigh, "but it will soon leave off." - -"Let us hope so! Open the shutters!" - -He moved to obey. "This is Sunday; don't you know that in Rome it -always rains on Sunday?--result of the Papal curse! Never mind. It -will leave off. I assure you it will! Stay in bed a little longer. -I'll ring for your coffee." - -"No, no!" she cried, terrified lest the summons should bring her -mother-in-law; "I'll get up at once! I'm anxious to write home." - -"We'll go out the moment the rain stops," said Antonio. "If you don't -mind we'll take Gaspare with us. He knows all about archćology. We'll -go to the Forum." - -"To the Forum!" she echoed, her eyes sparkling with revival of joy. - -"Yes, my dear--to the Forum. Think of that! To the Forum! Have you -realised where you are?" - -She smiled at him without answering. He had changed his costume, -was wearing a shining collar, a beautiful green tie, had curled his -moustache. He was fresh, fragrant, very handsome. Light had come -in with him, love, joy. Regina pulled him down to her, kissed his -hair, which she said smelt of "burnt flowers," pretended to whisper -something in his ear, and made instead a childish shout. He jumped -in feigned terror, threatened her and shook her. They laughed, they -played, they forgot everything but their own felicity. - -"Where have you awaked, _levrottin_?" (leveret), he asked, using one -of the pretty pet names he had learned in her country, where he had -been for three months on a Royal Commission; "where are you? This -time yesterday we were at Parma; to-day we are here. Think, what a -distance! And three months ago we didn't so much as know each other! -Do you remember the first day we made friends on the river-bank? And -that great crimson sun behind the woods? The Master kept looking at -us and smiling; he knew we'd have to get married!" - -"'_Here is the Signor Antonio Venutelli, junior clerk at the -Treasury, and here is the noble Signorina Regina Tagliamari_,'" -continued Antonio, imitating the nasal voice of the school-master who -had arranged their introduction; "'_she is a real queen of goodness -and of genius, fit to reign in the Eternal City, in unequalled -Rome_.'" - -"Poor old man!" said Regina, more gravely. "Yes, we certainly owe our -meeting to him." - -"And what do you suppose they'd say in your home, now? They'd say, -'_Regina is in Rome, and she's still in bed, the little sluggard, and -she hasn't even been to Mass, the little heathen!_ Fancy being in -Rome and not going to Mass!'" - -"But look here!" she began, clapping her hands and imitating her -husband's mock-heroic tone. However she was no longer merry. A sweet -vision had melted her heart. She saw her mother--her dear, delicate -mother, her pretty sister, her youngest brother, her darling, all -starting for the nine o'clock Mass. The house on the river-bank was -deserted. It stood among poplar-trees veiled in mist, like a fancy -house in the background of a stage picture. Inside a fire burned -on the great hearth, the black cat sat contemplating the flames, -the Baratta painting was illuminated with grey and rosy tints which -gave it a suggestive relief. The sound of a bell, singularly pure in -tone, was dying on the still air in metallic vibrations; the northern -landscape, with the great river winding along like an immense blue -vein in the whiteness of that snowy plain, was spread out under the -vaporous heaven. Silence--mysterious immensity--the mist of dream! - -But this nostalgic vision, which gave her a melancholy pleasure -seen thus under the caresses of him for whom she had abandoned all, -was snatched from her by the entrance of Signora Anna. The old -lady, round and enormous in her red flannel dressing-gown, her hair -already dressed, and blacker and oilier than yesterday, advanced with -circumspection, puffing and panting as was her wont. Regina blushed, -removed her arms from Antonio's neck, and covered herself hastily. - -"Why so?" said the young man, taking the coverlet away, "show your -lovely little arms at once! Look, mother! see how white my Regina is!" - -"No, no! let me alone!" said the girl, hiding under the sheet. But -the old lady came nearer, helped Antonio to unbutton the wrist of -Regina's jacket, and passed an approving finger over the bride's -white and child-like arm. - -"Upon my word!" she exclaimed, "you are really lovely!" - -"Oh, dear me! Do please let me alone!" said Regina, flattered all the -same. - -"Isn't she lovely? Isn't she?" insisted Antonio, kissing the fair -arms. - -"Lovely! Very well made indeed! _Brava!_" said the mother-in-law, -almost as if Regina had made herself. "And indeed I was white and -shapely enough myself once," she went on; "now I'm an old woman, but -in my day I was very much admired, I assure you!" - -"Well really!" thought Regina, looking at her mother-in-law's thick -hands, brown, chapped, smelling of garlic, and very unlike the -blue-veined whiteness of her own delicate members. - -"Won't you have some coffee? Do you take it with milk? I'll go and -get the coffee and the milk--a little scalded cream--whipped eggs?" - -"For pity's sake!" cried Regina. "No, thank you, I don't want -anything." - -"Get up! Get up!" said Antonio, "the rain's stopping. Let's go out!" - -"You're not going to take her out in this weather!" protested the -mother-in-law. "You're insane! She shall stay in bed. When I was -a girl" (she turned to Regina), "I always stayed in bed the whole -morning. But those days were different. The servants _then_ were -faithful, sensible, active, and the mistress could do the lady even -if she wasn't one--thank heaven, I could." - -"So you can now. What's to hinder you?" said Regina politely. - -"Goodness me! What! with such maids as we get now? Dishonest, -untruthful, ungrateful hussies! They're the torment of one's -existence. There was a time when I loved my servants just as if they -were members of the family; now I don't love them at all. They don't -deserve it. This girl I have now makes me sick with the worries she -causes me." - -"Get up! Get up!" repeated Antonio. - -But Regina would not stir till she was left alone. Then she -jumped out of bed, and, clad in her long white nightgown, stood -disconsolately looking at the chaos of objects in the room and at -the grey light which penetrated by the three doleful windows. She -made also the sad discovery that at Rome it was colder than in her -own north country! She washed, dressed, and did her hair awkwardly. -Everything was inconvenient from the washstand to the looking-glass, -the latter a panel in the wardrobe draped with a heavy curtain. -Having tucked this up she saw herself in the glass; pale, worn out, -ugly. Her depression reasserted itself. - -She was long in appearing, and at last Antonio came to look for her. -She had peevishly pulled up all the blinds, tucked away all the -curtains, and was engaged settling the things in her trunk. - -"What on earth are you about?" he asked a little impatiently; and, -taking her hand, led her to the dining-room, where Signora Anna was -waiting at a table laid for two, but groaning under food sufficient -for ten. - -"I only want a drop of black coffee," said Regina. - -"Only black coffee? My dear, you are crazy--so to speak--I don't mean -any offence. But, you know, one must eat at Rome! Here is the black -coffee. A little brandy in it?" - -"No, thanks. It doesn't agree with me." - -"Just try. You'll like it, I'm sure." - -"No, no!" - -"Yes, yes! If you don't mean to vex me----" - -She had to take the brandy in the coffee, and then _café au lait_; -and cream, and bread and butter, and biscuits, and the whipped -eggs. At last tears rose in her eyes, so overwhelmed was she by her -mother-in-law's insistence. By way of comfort Signora Anna at once -offered a basin of broth and the wing of a roast chicken. - -"But you're trying to kill me!" cried the girl, jesting, though -desperate. Antonio laughed, and ate heartily. - -Fortunately an alarming noise was heard in the kitchen, and the -Signora ran, much agitated and tripping over her red dressing-gown. -Regina seized the opportunity and fled to her room. - -She put on a beautiful white scarf and a black hat with a pink -ribbon, which she thought very smart; powdered herself carefully, and -imagined every one was going to admire her as they did at home. - -"Behold how lovely my Regina is!" said Antonio, half serious, half -amused; "and just you look at her hat!" - -Gaspare, buttoned up in his new great-coat, fat, heavy, rosy and -pompous, was waiting at the dining-room door. He looked at Regina out -of the corner of his eye, then saluted her and said gravely-- - -"Your hat is like a swallow's nest." - -"I'd like to hear what you know about hats, when you know nothing -about women," said Antonio. - -"I shall never marry," declared Gaspare; "but if I should be -overtaken by such unhappiness, at least my wife shall not make -herself ridiculous." - -"Ridiculous?" retorted Regina. "Who? the unhappy one?" - -Gaspare deigned no reply. They started. - -Regina never forgave her husband for taking Gaspare with them on this -their first walk through Rome. - -"We'll go down Via Cavour to the Forum, and come back by Piazza -Venezia and Via Nazionale," proposed Antonio, consulting his watch; -"it's late already." - -The weather had cleared. Great drops of shining water fell from the -trees in the Via Torino gardens. Santa Maria Maggiore, rose-coloured -and grey against the blue sky, towered like a mountain above her -broad flight of rain-washed steps. Gaspare pointed to the church with -his umbrella and named it. Regina looked indifferently; the edifice -seemed to her ugly. - -They went down Via Cavour. The wood pavement was drying rapidly, and -Regina naďvely remarked that it wasn't polished as she had supposed -last night. - -"I should hope not!" said Gaspare, who dropped behind now and then to -hawk and spit. "What extraordinary things women do suppose! The very -opposite of the facts!" - -"Men too," retorted Regina. - -"Men oftener than women," added Antonio, gallantly. - -"Eh! Possibly. _Sometimes_," said Gaspare, with a disagreeable smile. - -Gaspare's rude manners offended Regina, though she had been warned -he was "quite a character." Presently, however, she forgot him, and -became absorbed in contemplation of the new things she was seeing. - -People passed rapidly along the pavements, umbrellas under their -arms; vivid light poured from the blue sky still furrowed by metallic -clouds; through the bright moist air strayed the smell of roasted -chestnuts. Yes! this wide, brilliant street was really fine! In -a shop window were exhibited five astonishing hats, which Regina -admired more than Santa Maria Maggiore. But presently the brothers -made her deviate into a lane, dismal with old houses and old gardens -hanging under high bastion-like walls, which went up and down, -where there were no pavements, no shops, only a dirty crowd of -hawkers, herb-sellers, street arabs. They walked on and on, but this -melancholy street seemed endless. Regina grew tired; she leaned on -Antonio's arm, and began again to feel a dull weight of sadness. Was -this Rome? - -The brothers made the blunder of supposing that Regina could walk -as far as they. They dragged her on to the Forum, where, her eyes -blinded by fatigue, she saw no more than a field of drenched ruins, -a sorrow-stricken place, a cemetery over which the metallic clouds -brooded, hiding the blue heaven and wrapping arches and columns -in veils of doleful shade. Gaspare discoursed learnedly, but she -did not listen. The tragic solitude of the vast graveyard was -profaned by a great number of persons with eye-glasses and English -gowns girded up with pins and dress-fasteners. The columns and -the glorious fragments, still soaked with rain, seemed to Regina -gigantic marble bones, exhumed by a nation of inquisitive children -who amused themselves desecrating this stupendous sepulchre of a dead -civilisation. - -From the Forum they moved homewards towards Piazza Venezia. It was -almost noon; the crowds took the trams by assault; a broad river -of smartly-dressed women came down Via Nazionale, spread over the -Piazza, and went up the Corso. A confused noise of trams, motors, -carriages, human voices, sounded on the air which was still damp, but -illuminated by changing light from between the clouds. Regina felt a -kind of vertigo. She, who could see little that was distant, began -to see even the near things confusedly. The incessant rumble of a -thousand noises, among which the motors emitted roars like rampant -wild beasts, gave her a vague sensation of terror. She fixed her -wide eyes on the crowd, fascinated by the coming and going as by the -flowing of a stream. She looked up and saw a network of telephone -wires hiding the sky, which renewed her feeling of oppression; and -yet, though tired and overwhelmed, she would not admit herself -wondering or surprised. The elegance of the women certainly struck -her. She felt envious, but also displeased. It was impossible there -could be so many shapely and handsome women! They must be painted -and padded! Oh, she knew very well! She knew how much corruption, -falsity, hidden misery, that crowd carried within itself, the first -contact with which on that uncertain autumn morning under the network -of metallic threads awoke in her a mysterious sentiment of aversion -and pity. Antonio fixed enamoured eyes on his bride's face; but those -enamoured eyes failed to perceive the apathy of fatigue which was -showing more and more plainly on the beloved features. - -"Let's take a carriage," he suggested. - -"Why not the tram?" asked Gaspare. - -Antonio said the carriage would be quicker, but really he wanted at -least for the first day to treat his Regina royally. Gaspare argued -for the tram. - -"Let's walk," said Regina. - -"Walk? When we can't get you along?" exclaimed the brother-in-law. - -"Then we'll have the carriage," said Regina to spite him. - -"Oh, I see! We've become aristocrats!" said the misogynist. - -They found a carriage and drove up Via Nazionale, now beginning to -empty and a little somnolent. It appeared immense under the white -light of a heaven which had become all silver. In the distant and -vaporous background of Piazza Termini, the fountains looked like huge -crystal flowers. The great street was a thing of exquisite beauty at -that hour, under that tender and melancholy sky, with that grand yet -delicate background. Antonio looked at his wife, hoping at last to -find a ray of admiration in her bewildered eyes. But the great eyes, -shadowed and full of weariness, were only following the floating -flags, and did not notice the grandeur and beauty of the splendid -street. At Via Napoli he said-- - -"Let's throw a glance into those cross-streets. We'll perhaps find -_our_ street, Regianotta!" - -"It would take me three months to recognise it. I don't know what to -look out for." - -"But you aren't observing!" - -"Very likely not. What's the good of observing?" - -"What's the good of having eyes?" put in Gaspare. - -"Yes, what's the good? One generally blunders with them." - -Gaspare did not appear to understand. He merely spat, and reflected -that women are all either fools or flirts. - -From that day out, he classed Regina with what he called the -"avalanche" of fool-women. She was like Arduina, like Marina the -maid, like other women of his acquaintance. Supreme and reciprocal -contempt reigned for their whole life between this brother and -sister-in-law. - -They came in, and Signora Anna declared the lunch "Ready, ready!" -yet kept them waiting for half-an-hour. Regina had to give minute -descriptions of everything she had seen. The three brothers argued -about politics, their ideas being widely apart. Gaspare was a -"_forcaiuolo_"[1] of the first water, uncompromising and cruel; -Massimo was a Tolstoyan Socialist, as much against war as his brother -was against liberty; Antonio was Liberal and a little opportunist. -Signora Anna made excursions into her sons' conversation in a manner -peculiar to herself. No matter what public character was named, she -knew the history of his marriage and could give the name of his -mistress. On all such matters she appeared singularly well informed. - -[1] One who favours despotism. - -After lunch Regina retired to her room, lay down, and slept. When -she awoke her ears told her it was again raining, and very heavily. -Finding herself once more in the big, hard bed under that detestable -ceiling, in the gloom of the chilly room, her depression became -almost desperation. She jumped up, and resolved to write her letter -home. Antonio established her at the bureau in Signora Anna's room, -and she began-- - -"It's pouring. I am in the lowest spirits." - -But come! this was idiotic. Why distress her Mamma with useless -lamentations? - -"Is it not my own doing?" she thought, tearing the note-paper. "Who -forced me to change my state, to leave my family, and my home? For -the future I am alone. Alone! Even if I were to explain, no one would -ever understand!" - -Leaning against the desk, she philosophised bitterly. - -"Have I the smallest right to complain? No. And there's no sense in -complaining when the cause of discomfort is in oneself. My soul is -sick; it's a plant torn from the place where it sprang; every little -shock withers it. Why should I lament? It's useless. Nothing can cure -me, not even Antonio's love. The rain will stop, the fine days will -come, I shall have my own house, and needn't be bothered with any -one's company; but shall I even then be happy? Who can tell? Yet, -after all, what does it matter? One must just accept life as it is, -and resign oneself, and try to live to oneself. I don't understand -the mania for company. Isn't it possible to live _alone_? Isn't it -better? What company so good as one's own? And," she concluded, "it -won't last for ever. We've all got to die." - -She took this for resignation, and decided to write a letter full of -pious lies. But, searching the pigeon-holes for an envelope, she came -upon Antonio's letters to his mother during the three months he had -served on the Commission at C----e. - -Curiosity prompted her to look into them. - -In the beginning of the correspondence Antonio described the place -with rapid touches, and praised the inhabitants, whom he found -energetic, lively, quick-witted. - -"I have established myself," he wrote, "in an excellent family, -thoroughly honest and sensible. The father is school-master in a -neighbouring village, but lives here that his own children may attend -secondary schools. The boy Gabriele is smart, active, and ambitious. -Gabriella, the girl, is very clever, and intends to be an authoress. -The school-master (nick-named the _guendol_ [spindle], because -he's never quiet for a single moment) is an excellent fellow. He -discourses of Raphael and Michaelangelo, making highly original -criticisms. For instance, speaking of Raphael (whose surname he never -omits), he says 'the painter of _La Madonna delle Seggiole_ (plural), -etc.'" - -In a postscript to this letter Antonio added-- - -"The Master has suggested a marriage to me--a young lady -of noble family, once very wealthy, now come down in the -world--twenty-three--neither pretty nor ugly--clever--fortune, 30,000 -_lire_." - -In another letter Antonio boasted of tender regards from several -young ladies in the neighbourhood, but said the Master still held to -his idea. - -"The Tagliamari are one of the best families in this part. They still -have 200,000 _lire_ to be divided into four parts. At present the -elder daughter has 30,000. The Signora T---- is most distinguished -widow of a noble who in his day ran through half-a-million. The -Master paints the young lady as a model of wisdom and goodness. '_Č -fine, sa_,' he says to me, '_fine, fine, fine!_'[2] She has been -educated at Parma in a school for ladies of rank. 'You ought to take -her away from this,' he says, 'to Rome--that's her place.'" - -[2] Fine=out of the common--delicately exquisite. - -"Poor old man," commented Antonio. "He imagines that I am a prince--I -with my small berth at the Treasury!--fit to marry and carry off a -young lady who is _fine, fine, fine_!" - -"To be sure," he wrote in his letter of September 2nd, "30,000 _lire_ -are not to be despised; but I must first see the lady." - -The next letter described the meeting with Regina on the banks of the -Po, near her home. - -"She is not beautiful. She has a muzzle like a cat; but she is very -attractive, cultured, particularly intelligent. The Master must have -talked to her of me, for she got red and looked at me in a shy sort -of way. She asked if I was really private secretary to a princess. -Evidently she would think that much more interesting than to be -merely a junior clerk in the Treasury office! - -"Yesterday I went to the Tagliamaris' villa. The mother is the most -charming of women, a genuine great lady. She told me the whole -story of her life, perhaps with intention, but in the most delicate -way. She belongs herself to a distinguished family. Her husband was -wealthy, but what she calls unlucky speculations, the floods of --80, -and other misfortunes, completely ruined him----" - -"What are you about, Regina?" asked Antonio, appearing at the door. - -"Oh!" she cried, looking up, "I've discovered some most curious human -documents!" - -And she held up the letters. He flushed, and sprang to put them back -in their pigeon-holes, then changed his mind and began to read them -himself. - -"Aren't you ashamed?" she said; "a '_signorina fine, fine, fine_!' -'30,000 _lire_ not to be despised,' 'Private secretary to a princess -more interesting in her eyes, etc., etc., etc.' You were horrid!" - -"Read here! Read here!" said Antonio. "See what I say afterwards!" - -But she got up and looked at herself in the glass. - -"I declare it's true! I am like a cat!" - -"Read here!" repeated Antonio, pursuing her, a letter in his hand. - -"We'll read it later. Now I'm going to write home," she said, -reseating herself at the bureau. - -Antonio took all the letters and set himself to read them over, -buried in a corner of the ottoman. Every now and then, while Regina -wrote rapidly, he burst into exclamations and little laughs, then -suddenly became serious, as if in the lively recollection of the last -days passed at C----e he were living his happiness over again. - -Later the pair presented themselves at Arduina's Apartment, where -they were to dine. The authoress lived on the top floor of the palace -in a small suite of rooms furnished in rather strange taste and -pervaded by what seemed to Regina affected disorder. - -Arduina came to meet her guests screaming with delight. She was -dressed in a long white overall, her sleeves tucked up and displaying -lean, yellow arms. - -"Come in!" she said, hiding her hands behind her back; "give me a -kiss, Regina!" - -Regina kissed her without enthusiasm, and Antonio said-- - -"I've explained that to get time for writing you prepare dinner at -5 a.m. God only knows what sort of meal you'll give us!" - -"Here's what will reassure you!" said Arduina, revealing floury -hands. "I write easily, you know," she went on, "at any hour and in -any place; so it's true, sometimes, when the inspiration comes I do -sit down with a pen at a corner of the kitchen table. And I get so -wrapped up in what I'm doing that the meat's apt to get burned. But -what does it matter?" she added, laughing with her rather silly but -apparently conceited laugh; "roast meat is no more than roast meat, -and art is art. But come in; sit down; amuse yourself with these -papers, dear. I'll be with you in a moment, and then you'll give me -that information about female benevolence in Mantua." - -"Leave her in peace," said Antonio, as before. - -"Don't you interfere with me! There's no one cares for your wife so -much as I do. Why, I adore her! Do you hear," she repeated, turning -to Regina, "I adore you. It seems as if I'd known you for years. If -for no other reason I love you because of your queenly name. By the -way, have you seen the queen yet?" - -"Of course! in my dreams last night." - -"True; you only arrived last night. Still, you've had time. Where did -you go this morning? To the Colosseum? Ah! I adore the Colosseum! -I'd like to live in it! Have you read _Quo Vadis?_ What! you have -not?--and it's the finest of all modern books! I'll make you read it. -I'll make you read all sorts of books. I'll introduce you to ever -so many authors. I'll take you to intellectual circles, artistic -gatherings, to lectures, to wherever one may live not by bread -alone----" - -"Are we to have bread alone here?" asked Antonio, in feigned alarm; -"well, whatever you do, you're not to make Regina write for your -paper." - -"Why not?" - -"I'd kill you--have you taken up!" - -Regina laughed, and Arduina disappeared again into the kitchen. - -When they were alone Antonio pulled Regina to the looking-glass. -"We mayn't be beautiful," he said, kissing her, "but we make a good -group. Look, my queen, and laugh; laugh as you used! You don't know -what dumps I fall into when I see you displeased." - -"I'm not displeased," she said, putting her hands on his breast. - -"But neither are you pleased. You aren't my Regina of the river-side. -Your face is long, your eyes are far away. You don't seem to care -that you're in Rome--Rome of your dreams." - -"It's the weather--the weather," she said in a dull voice. - -"The weather will clear up," said Antonio, taking her to the window. -"You'll see how beautiful Rome is in fine weather! It's almost -always fine, and never cold. Just see all the gardens! Even here in -Via Torino there's so much green. Shall we look out a bit? It's not -raining now." - -He opened the French window. Regina stepped out among the -flower-pots--filled with consumptive little plants, on whose sparse -leaves the melancholy of the grey sky was reflected. She looked down -on the wet and deserted street. - -Taking shelter under a doorway was a little old woman, dressed in -black, and with a meagre basket of lemons by her side. She was -hurriedly wringing out her stockings, and she was pale, huddled up, -shaking with cold. - -Regina had noticed her in the morning, and now, instead of admiring -the palaces and gardens--squeezing up her eyes to see distinctly from -this altitude of fifth storey--she looked again at the little old -woman with the withered lemons. - -Antonio pointed out the Costanzi Theatre, and tried to cheer her by -saying that Bellincioni was expected at Carnival time. - -"Just think, little one! You shall hear Bellincioni!" - -But Regina was looking at the muddy pavement, presided over by that -little black figure, whose whole fortune consisted in those seven -miserable lemons. It seemed as if she had no right to rejoice in -the pleasures offered by a great city, when in that same city, at -a street corner, while it rained, that little old woman was to be -seen tired and shaking with cold. Her soul must have turned sour and -sad like the lemons which made up her ridiculous fortune, all her -subsistence, the total of her long life of labour and sorrow. - -"To be poor and old!" murmured Regina, trying to express her idea to -her husband. - -"What is it you've got in your head?" he returned; "do you imagine -the old crone is suffering? Not she! She's used to that sort of life. -If you altered her habits, even if you offered her a more comfortable -existence, she'd be perfectly wretched." - -Regina remembered her own case, and questioned whether Antonio were -not right. Her thoughts flew to her old home, where the firelight -would be just beginning to gild the semi-obscurity of the great -parlour. The recollection was enough to make her feel sadder still, -here in this cold and untidy little city drawing-room. - -She was roused from her homesickness by Arduina, who brought tidings. - -"The Princess is coming after all! She had promised, but I feared -she'd never turn out a day like this. She is so kind! and so clever. -I adore her. I must go and dress. Mario!" she cried, running to -her husband, who was entering, "Mario, make haste! Put on at least -your----" - -Sor Mario entered, very grave, very fat, much out of breath. He -pressed Regina's hand, gasped, and in compliance with his wife's -insistence went away to dress. Regina could not make out if he were -pleased or not that the Princess was honouring his board. As for -herself she was curious, even anxious, to meet a lady of authentic -rank, or, at any rate, of wealth, however little flattering her -portrait as drawn by Antonio. It did not occur to her that the -Princess in question could not be a very exalted personage if she -deigned to sup with Arduina! - -"She's old and deaf," Antonio had said; "she sets up to be a -critic, and patronises, or at least receives visits from, the worst -scribblers in Rome. But oh! these authors! They penetrate everywhere -like flies. It's a fine thing, genius!--worth even more than money." - -"Certainly," Regina had answered, "genius can buy even money; or, at -any rate, can despise it!" - -"I think we'd better dress, too," said Antonio thoughtfully, and -added hastily, "not, of course, for her sake--for our own." - -They descended the stair again, and Regina put on her prettiest silk, -her lace scarf, her jewelled brooch, her rings. She powdered herself, -and, following Antonio's suggestion, puffed her hair a little at the -temples. - -"That's it," he said approvingly, "you look another girl." - -He changed his own attire, and curled his moustache. - -"A perfect fop!" laughed Regina; "you intend to captivate the lady -with that moustache!" - -"Surely you don't imagine any one could fall in love with me?--not -even that '_vecchia corna_' (scarecrow)!" - -"I fell in love with you!" - -He caught her and kissed her. - -"But is it true you were in love? I don't believe it!" - -"It was you who didn't fall in love! A '_signorina fine, fine, -fine_.' '30,000 _lire_ not to be despised,' 'a muzzle like----'" - -"Yes; a muzzle, a muzzle, a muzzle!" he said, like a child persisting -in some innocent insult. - -As they were going forth the second time Signora Anna ran to see -Regina's finery. She examined the stuff of her dress, and looked if -it were lined with silk, while deep and painful sighs swelled her -capacious bosom. In the kitchen Gaspare was heard scolding Marina. - -Regina felt acute pleasure in the thought that Gaspare and the -mother-in-law were not coming to Arduina's dinner. However, she was -no sooner back in the squeezy drawing-room, where they sat awaiting -"Madame," than her low spirits returned. - -Evening fell rapidly; the shadows deepened like black impalpable -clouds. Arduina was busy with final preparations. Sor Mario grunted -benevolently, sunk in an arm-chair, his trousers drawn very tight -over the knee. Antonio was thoughtful and silent. No one remembered -to light the lamps. - -Regina felt a weight of sadness upon her soul. What was it? The -gloom, the oppression of twilight in this remote and unknown place -to which destiny had carried her, or was it the mere reflection of -Antonio's unwonted seriousness? She walked to the window, and again -looked for the little old woman with the black raiment; lamps white -and yellow pierced the cloudy twilight; the pavement glistened; -an infinite sadness, a mystery of fearful shadow fell blacker and -blacker from the heavens. - -The bell rang. In rushed the servant and lighted the gas, barely in -time for the great lady's entrance. - -With eyes dazzled by this suddenly kindled light, Regina first -saw the Princess, and was at once disillusioned. The tall, stout, -flat-chested form, the felt hat, fastened by an elastic under the -black chignon stuck at the nape of the neck--suggested something -masculine. Thick, colourless lips, a small nose slightly awry, -small metallic eyes of yellowish-green, marked the pale heavy face. -The whole made up a figure which, once seen, was not likely to be -forgotten. - -"_Bon soir_," she said, in a soft, harmonious voice, oddly in -contrast with her stout and malformed person. She talked on in French -while Arduina hurried to relieve her of her hat and handbag. "I am -pleased to see you back, Monsieur Venutelli. I received your letter. -This is your bride? She is charming!" - -Antonio bowed, and Regina looked at her with wondering eyes, saying -shyly-- - -"You are very kind, Signora." - -"Beg pardon?" said Madame, turning her left ear to Regina, who nearly -laughed, remembering Antonio's mimicry of the deaf Princess. - -But Signora Makuline had taken her hand, and was slipping a sapphire -ring on one of its fingers, saying-- - -"You will allow me? With a thousand good wishes!" - -"Oh, thank you! You are really too good!" cried Regina, delighted, -and Antonio also looked at the ring and expressed thanks. Then they -all sat down; the Princess removed her dirty white gloves, and, to -Regina's surprise, displayed hands small as a child's, and covered -with flashing rings. - -"What shocking weather," said Madame, her small feline eyes not -looking at any one. "I've been many years in Rome, but never remember -an autumn like this. It's not manners to talk of the weather; but -when it becomes a matter of health, the weather has certainly more -influence over us than even the most important events of our lives!" - -"Monsieur Antonio, this abominable storm will spoil your honeymoon," -said Arduina, trying to joke; but Regina, rather offended, muttered -some words of protest. - -"Beg pardon?" said the Princess. - -"Arduina is right," said Antonio; "my wife is, in point of fact, in -the very worst of humours." - -"_N'est ce pas?_ In the worst possible humour!" - -"It's not true!" protested Regina, "quite the contrary; I am -extremely cheerful." - -However, Madame was tiresome enough to observe that during dinner -Regina spoke very little. - -"I like to be silent! I like listening," explained the bride, rather -shortly. - -"Well," said the Princess, "there's a certain _cachet_ about a -young woman who doesn't talk. A woman's silence suggests something -mysterious, something occult; even something charming. Georges Sand -spoke little. One of my uncles was her intimate friend, and he told -me Georges was designedly silent." - -"Perhaps you yourself knew Georges Sand?" said Massimo ungallantly. - -"No," replied Madame, unmoved. - -"Her mother, perhaps?" murmured Antonio. - -"Beg pardon?" - -"I've been reading an article on Georges Sand's mother," said Antonio -louder. "Most interesting! She was a woman of fiery genius, and of -fiery heart, too, whose adventures no doubt influenced her daughter's -imagination." - -"Where did you see that article?" cried Arduina; "we'll reproduce it!" - -Sor Mario, bending low over his plate, shook his head, and emitted a -perhaps unintentional grunt. - -Tedious talk followed of the adventures and romances of Georges Sand. -Arduina declared that the novels were uninteresting. She liked modern -books, and _Quo Vadis?_ above all others. - -"_Dio Mio!_" said Antonio, "do stop about _Quo Vadis?_ And really, -you know, it's not precisely modern!" - -Regina listened and held her peace. The talk was entirely of books, -theatres, authors. The Princess told some story of Tolstoy, whom she -knew personally. Towards the close of the repast, violent discussion -arose between Massimo and Arduina about a great contemporary Italian -poet and novelist--not only about his works, but about his private -life. Arduina spoke against the master, hatred darting from her eyes, -venom from her lips. She reproached him even for having grown old, -bald, and ugly before his time. Massimo, red with fury, withered his -sister-in-law with looks of supreme contempt. - -"Worms!" he cried, forgetting he sat at her table. "See what you -writers are! Merely to blacken the greatest and purest glory of Italy -you stoop to absolute nonsense, and don't even know what it is you -are saying!" - -"Peace! peace!" laughed Antonio. - -But now a most extraordinary thing happened. Sor Mario spoke. He had -not read one line of the poet's, nor had any scandal to tell of him, -but he related:-- - -"I saw him once at Anzio; he was riding along the shore got up -entirely in white; white coat, white hat, white gloves, on a white -horse----" - -"White gloves on a horse?" queried Massimo, laughing foolishly. - -Regina asked the Princess her opinion of the author in question, and -the lady replied-- - -"To tell the truth, I'm not one of his blind admirers; but his prose -is certainly lovely--bewitching, like music----" - -"True," said Antonio; "but one very quickly forgets what he says." - -"That's just my impression," said Regina; "it's music without any -echo." - -Massimo shook his head; his long hair stood on end like that of an -infuriated baby. - -"People were coming down to bathe," continued Sor Mario, "and they -stared at him and laughed. Some were in hopes the poet would tumble -off his white horse----" - -About nine, while Arduina was pouring out coffee, the Princess's -lady companion arrived; a queer-looking little creature with dark, -malignant countenance, a long, pointed chin, and minute, glittering -eyes. Small, shrivelled, dressed in grey, this curious person seemed -half-animal to Regina, a kind of human rodent. And, really, no -sooner had she entered than the room was pervaded and animated by -what seemed the scratching and running about of a rat; little cries -and exclamations; hand-claspings and kisses which suggested bites, -questions, remarks, and, above all, looks which seemed to Regina -inquisitive, anxious, mocking, and impudent. - -"Take a cup of coffee if you care for it, Marianna," said Arduina, -while the companion felt the Princess's forehead with both her hands. - -"Why, your head's burning!" she said; "have you been eating a great -deal? What have you eaten? Whatever have you made her eat?" she went -on, turning to Arduina. "Oh, yes, I'll have some coffee, though I -know very well it won't be good! What wretched cups! They're as small -as I am!" - -Antonio had hinted to his wife that Marianna was commonly supposed to -be the Princess's daughter; and Regina, watching her, thought-- - -"It's clearly the case of the mountain and the mouse." - -Apparently, Marianna read her thought, for she turned her little head -with the alertness of a mouse, surprised by some slight sound; then -came and sat beside the bride, balancing her cup on the palm of her -hand, and saying maliciously-- - -"That husband of yours is a villain; keep your eye on him if you -don't want him in every sort of mischief." - -"I think you're the villain this time," said Antonio; "what are you -insinuating suspicions into my wife for?" - -"Because I pity her." - -"And pray why?" asked Regina. - -"Why? Just because you're married! Here comes another villain," -continued Marianna, pointing to Massimo, who had drawn nearer; -"for that matter they're all villains, the men! And the good ones -are worse than the bad. The good ones are stupid. I don't care if -men are bad, terrible even, so long as they have some genius and -will-power." - -"If I had at least these attributes--" began Massimo, looking at her -with his insolent eyes. - -"You can't have them," she interrupted; "geniuses never oil their -hair as you do." "It's oiled, signora, isn't it?" - -"I--don't know," said Regina, "I think not." - -"Ah, poor dear! you haven't found it out! You'll never find anything -out." - -"How silly she is!" thought Regina. - -And again she fancied that the young lady read her thoughts. - -"Oh, you're thinking me a fool!" she said; "but listen here. I've -forgotten to tell you something I always tell people when I meet them -first." - -"We know what it is," interjected Massimo and Antonio; but Marianna -went on-- - -"Once, seven years ago, at Odessa, the house I was living in went -on fire. I was in a top room, all hemmed in by flames--impossible -to get me out. The smoke was already blinding and stifling me, and -I heard the roar of the flames quite close. I believed in God no -more then than now; however, I did feel the need of recourse to -some supernatural being, some occult or omnipotent power. So I made -a vow. I promised if I were saved, I would henceforth always speak -the truth. At that moment the floor fell in. I lost my senses; and -when I came to, I found myself safe and sound in the arms of a most -hideous fireman. 'How have you managed it?' I asked. 'Like this,' -he answered, and told how he had rescued me at great peril of his -life. 'Oh, very well,' I said, 'I suspect you're exaggerating; but -I'm grateful, all the same, and I'll always remember you; the more -vividly that your ugliness is quite unforgettable.'" - -Regina laughed. "I seem to be reading a Russian story," she said. - -"But is that little tale true?" asked Massimo; and Antonio added-- - -"You gave me a slightly different version." - -"Now you're trying to be witty," said Marianna, "but it's no use. You -can't be witty, except for women you wish to please, and you don't in -the least wish to please me." - -"Oh, yes, I wish to please you," said Massimo; "it's the sole object -of my life." - -"Well, I don't appreciate your jokes. There are plenty of women very -inferior to me, and you won't succeed in pleasing even them." - -"I shall succeed with the superior ones, perhaps." - -"I don't think there are many women superior to me; if there are, -you'll never get within a stone's throw of them." - -"Then I suppose I'm one of the inferiors?" said Regina, for the sake -of saying something. - -"Yes, because you're married. A superior woman never marries. Or if -in some spell of unconsciousness she does take a husband, she repents -at once. If I wished to pay you a compliment, I should say I believe -you are repenting." - -"By Jove!" said Antonio, "that's not a matter of joke." - -"Do you always tell the Princess the truth?" asked Regina. - -"Of course she keeps me only for that purpose," said Marianna, -looking, not without affection, at the Princess. Madame was telling -Arduina a story of her aunt. - -"--the handsomest and smartest woman in Paris," she said. "I've told -you of her marriage, haven't I? They married her at fifteen to the -lover of a lady who remained her friend for ten years, her friend, -her confidante, her guide. For ten years she never guessed----" - -Sor Mario, buried in his arm-chair, was listening, fighting with -sleepiness and the desire to pick his teeth. - -Marianna began to abuse Nietzsche and his opinion of women, but -Regina's attention wandered to the Princess's stories, scraps of -which reached her across the screaming and the audacities of the -younger lady. - -"If women understood him, they'd agree," said Massimo; "they don't -approve because they don't understand." - -"They do better than approve, they refute him," said Marianna. - -"If Gaspare were here," said Antonio, "he'd soon settle the question." - -Regina's soul shivered at the mere recollection of Gaspare, and his -mother, and the servant. - -"Her second husband was a Spaniard," narrated the Princess, "the -handsomest man you could see, and acquainted with all the literary -personages of his time. But his conduct----" - -"The education of women has not even begun," said Marianna, turning -to Regina; "women will never have any sense till men begin to tell -them the truth." - -"But what is the truth?" asked Massimo; "truth between man and woman -only comes out when they quarrel." - -"That's true up to a certain point. I'm always wondering why truth -is so disagreeable to everybody. They tell me I'm cracked because -I never tell lies. Nobody cares, because _my_ words don't really -interest the person I'm talking to. But let's suppose this lady were -to tell her husband all she was thinking, her real impressions, her -real idea of him, his family, his friends. I'm certain Signor Antonio -would fall quite sick----" - -"Regina!" cried Antonio, in feigned alarm, "can this be true?" - -Regina laughed, but a shudder as of great cold interrupted her false -merriment. The Princess was continuing her story. - -"'Jeanne!' said my aunt, hammering at the door of the room where he -was with the lady's maid, 'hand me the _Figaro_, if you please.' My -aunt was discreet. That was all she said." - -"And what did they reply?" asked Sor Mario, sitting up straight, his -toothpick in his fingers. - -"My dear!" said Arduina, "what a stupid question!" - -Before leaving, the Princess invited Regina to her Friday receptions. -Regina promised to go; but that night, when she was comfortably in -bed, lulled in the quiet and warmth of the first half-slumber, she -said-- - -"Antonio, do you know what? I've taken a great dislike to that -Princess!" - -"Why? She's all right." - -"Yes, but--you see----" - -"What?" - -She paused--then went on, her voice rather sleepy: "Do you remember -that female lion-tamer we saw at Parma? She looked at women in such a -strange way. I couldn't think whom the Princess reminded me of, and -I thought, and thought----Her eyes are just like that lion-tamer's! -Didn't you see how she stared at me?" - -"Well? She liked you. Who knows but she'll leave you something in her -will!" - -"Is she really rich?" - -"The deuce she is! A millionaire." - -"Her gloves were so dirty." - -"Did you see her rings?" - -"What do I care for rings if the gloves are dirty?" - -Regina relapsed into silence; then she laughed softly, and presently -fell into a light sleep. She dreamt she was in a wood on the banks -of the Po towards Viadana. The shining waters were churned by a -mill, but the mill was a castle with vast rooms hung with red, and -the castle belonged to Madame Makuline. The Princess was dead, but -her soul had climbed up a poplar-tree, through the silver leaves of -which shone the river, a crystalline blue. The mill wheel roared like -thunder, and Regina, seated on the entrance stair of the castle, -was washing her feet in a runnel of greenish water which overflowed -the steps. A white duck came to peck at the little toe of her right -foot, and laughed. Regina laughed herself. She was vaguely aware -she was dreaming, for she was analysing her sentiments, and knew -that a mill is a mill, that ducks can't laugh, and souls can't climb -poplar-trees. None the less, she was oppressed by mysterious fear, by -a sense of intolerable repugnance and distress. - -Antonio heard her laugh, that vague, strange laugh from the -profundity of dream which is like a voice from the depths of a well. - -"She's having pleasant visions--she is happy, my little queen!" he -thought, much moved. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - -That winter was cold in Rome, and the rain seemed endless. Even days -which began fine grew suddenly dark; the wind rose, and down came -a deluge. Luckily, the showers did not last. Soon the pavements -dried, the clouds blew away, the sky became blue, as if smiling at an -accomplished jest. The people, however, came home with their clothes -drenched, their boots soaking, their chests racked with coughs and -their bosoms with evil temper. - -"Your famous Roman sky seems to me a lunatic asylum without any -warders," said Regina to her husband; "a bedlam where the raging -clouds do whatever they like." - -And that rainy winter proved one of the saddest in the young wife's -whole life. True, she loved Antonio; the first day he left her to -resume his work she felt a profound emptiness, and knew herself -henceforth attached to him as firmly as the bark to the tree. But -existence in the Casa Venutelli, association with her mother-in-law, -the presence of Sor Gaspare, the gloomy bedroom with those immense -arm-chairs, heavy as vulgar destiny, proved altogether unbearable. - -And Rome was horrible under the continuous rain, which had something -malicious and mocking about it. People hurried through the streets, -their faces livid; the women showed petticoat-edges pasted with -mud; the heaven itself was soiled; and Regina's soul made shipwreck -amid this ocean of mud and water. She would come in drenched and -exasperated; within-doors it was cold; there was no fire, and there -was continual annoyance. She was uncomfortable at the table in those -high round chairs, opposite the sarcastic countenance of Massimo, Sor -Gaspare's red visage, the enormous panting bosom of Signora Anna. At -night she was worse off still on that lumpy mattress, in the cold air -which was pervaded by the rumble of the trams, and the melancholy -rolling of purposeless carriages. - -Was this the life of Rome? Nay, was this Rome? What! This the famous -Corso--this narrow, smelly, mud-splashed street, with its carriage -loads of old and hideous women, its foot-passengers squashing and -treading upon each other like flocks of stupid sheep? And was this -St. Peter's? Regina had expected it larger. That the Pincio? It was -not beautiful. The Colosseum? She had supposed it more sublime. Where -were the grandeur and magnificence? She could discover neither; -everything appeared melancholy and hollow. She felt no astonishment -at anything except her own impressions, and found a dreary pleasure -in the thought that among all the provincials who came to Rome to be -overwhelmed, she alone saw things in their true light. Sometimes she -made exaggerated display of her own superiority; but self-examination -convinced her it was tainted by personal rancour, and she felt sadder -than ever. What was it she wanted? What did she expect? She felt sick -of some deep wound. In vain she told herself the winter would pass, -she would soon leave this distasteful house where everything seemed -to freeze and suffocate her. Alas! her own sweet home was never, -never, to be found again! - -After hurried visits to monuments and museums, and a promise of more -leisurely re-inspection--promise made by all who fix their dwelling -in Rome, and seldom fulfilled under months and years--Regina and -Antonio began the (more interesting) round of _appartamenti_ to be -let. - -Between the salary of the one and the dowry of the other, they -counted on a fixed income of 3,000 _lire_. Antonio received a small -addition from the Princess, who had, however, other advisers, -and only consulted him in certain affairs which brought her into -collision with the Treasury. The means of the young couple would not -therefore allow them more than a small Apartment at fifty or sixty -_lire_ a month. They began their search in Via Massimo d'Azeglio, -where a possibly suitable suite of rooms was to fall vacant in -January. Regina, oppressed with doubts, entered a lordly entrance -hall, from which led a principal staircase of fine marble. The second -stair was perfectly dark at the bottom, but got brighter and brighter -as it went up. Regina began to count its steps. - -"Eleven, twenty-two, thirty-three, forty-four, fifty-five, -sixty-three--you don't tell me there are more?" - -She stopped, her heart beating violently. Antonio smiled indulgently; -he took his little queen by the arm and helped her up; the higher -they went the steeper the steps became. - -"Eighty-eight; ninety-nine. Goodness! more?" - -"Courage!" - -"A hundred and ten!" - -By the grace of God they had arrived; but before the door was opened, -the trembling and panting wife had said bitterly to herself, "Is this -where Regina is to live? Never! never!" - -The Apartment was suitable and pretty; a real nest in the heart of -the city's great forest of stone. Two windows looked out on a garden; -the rest on a court none too clean. - -Regina declared at once that there was no air and no light, and, in -fact, that the rooms would not do at all. - -"No air?" repeated Antonio; "no light? I should have said just the -opposite! Look! there's a garden down there! And it's so close to my -work and in the very centre of the town!" - -"No. I want windows on the street." - -"Well, then, we'll look for windows on the street; but, mind you, we -shan't find a more comfortable little place for our rent." - -"You think not?" she said, unbelievingly. - -Soon she was obliged to believe. They spent a fortnight in weary -pilgrimage, revolving at first about the Esquiline, the Quirinal, -and the Villa Ludovisi; and Regina, half vexed, half amused, sang -smilingly, _Senza tetto e senza cuna_ (With neither roof-tree nor -home). Then she became taciturn and very tired, dragging herself -along with an air of desperation. They consulted a house-agent, who -proved a delusion and a snare. He gave them a score of addresses, and -they gradually went up the Corso exploring all the adjacent streets, -as a traveller ascends a river seeking an unknown land and an -undiscoverable source. Antonio would have put up with a long walk to -his office if he could thus have contented Regina; but Regina would -not be contented. All the suites were either too large and costly, -or so cramped and cold that a single glance froze and tightened -the heart. Regina saw one _mezzanino_ (entresol) of four immense, -perfectly dark rooms, inhabited by what seemed an infinite number of -smartly attired young ladies. It suggested a tomb for the living, -and she fled horrified. It was shocking! And this was Rome! These -were the habitations which Rome offered to those who had long dreamed -of her! Tombs for the living, obscure caverns, dens for slaves! A -thousand times preferable the poorest cabins of the villages on the -Po, full of liberty and light! - -And still it rained; and Regina, unused to walking, got more and more -tired as she wandered about, seeking a nest in which to fold her -wounded wings. She had lost her looks, and was thin and pale; as the -days passed on she became irritable. Sometimes she looked at Antonio -with mocking commiseration. Was there anything more ridiculous than -a fine young man dragged round by an ugly little wife, on the search -for lodgings at fifty _lire_ a month? What a wretched business -was civilisation! She gazed enviously at the passers by, thinking -feverishly-- - -"They know where to go! They have houses even if they are dens, and -needn't traipse about the streets, like us, looking for a refuge. We -are stray dogs, unable to find a hole to die in!" - -And she looked yearningly at inaccessible country houses, thinking -bitterly-- - -"I, too, had a home--a home full of poetry and light. I shut myself -out with my own hands, and never, never will it be mine again!" - -At this thought tears welled into her eyes. Weary and silent she -stepped along at her husband's side, and Antonio looked at her -with pity, guessing the cause of her discontent. There were times, -however, when he also felt irritated. Why had she refused the -Apartment in the Via d'Azeglio? What more, what better did she want? - -They came in, worn out, both of them, and cross. Regina shrank away -into remote regions of the big, cold bed, and Antonio sometimes heard -smothered sobs which, instead of moving, vexed him all the more. What -was the matter with her? Well, really now, what was it? What was the -matter? Surely a sensible girl like her couldn't be crying because -rooms to her fancy were not discoverable at the first go off? - -"No," he told her later, "I thought you didn't love me any longer; -I thought you repented having married me. I felt humiliated and -wretched like a whipped child." - -Regina, far away from him in the great cold bed, had a hopeless -feeling of abandonment. She seemed to have lost herself in a -boundless, frozen plain; the screaming breath of the tram reproduced -the drive of the rain, the roar of the wet wind. All around was -cloud, and only far, far, far away shone the crimson of a lighted -hearth, glimmered the silver of a river---- - -"Why did I leave my home?" she asked herself, dully; "I've let myself -be rooted up like a poplar; and now, like the poplar-wood, I've been -carted here to make part of this odious construction which is called -a great city. I also shall warp and rot--get worm-eaten, fall----" - -Then she asked herself did she really love Antonio? There were -moments when she answered "No;" other moments when she melted at the -thought of him. - -"I shall make him miserable! He told me what to expect in Rome; a -modest life, a middle-class family. Did I not accept it? Well--well! -we shall all die! We must be resigned to our destiny. Every hour -will come, and the hour of death is the most certain of all. To die! -To have no more suffering from homesickness--never again to see my -mother-in-law, Arduina, Sor Gaspare, that maid Marina; to wander -no further in the rain seeking an Apartment! No--I don't want to -torment Antonio any more. Is it his fault that all the miseries of -civilisation interfere between him and me? He didn't know it, and -neither did I know it. But we shall all die at last! We must be -resigned, and go and live in Via d'Azeglio. The days will pass there -as they pass everywhere." - -She slept, pleased with her philosophy; and, of course, she dreamed -of the distant home, the woods, the blazing logs, the windows radiant -in the sunset, the kitten on the window-sill contemplating the stem -of the poplar-tree. Next morning daylight met her in the detestable -Venutelli room; she lay under the incubus of the grey ceiling; she -must get up, endure the cold, the rain, the company of Signora Anna! -Resignation? It was very well in theory; in practice her nerves -revolted fiercely against the reality. - -At last, after a month of vain search, more in the end from weariness -than from good-will, Regina consented to the suite in the Via -d'Azeglio for one year. Yet on the very day of signing the agreement -she repented, abandoning all self-control. - -"Was it worth while leaving my home and coming to Rome to live in a -box? I shall be suffocated! I shall die!" she cried. - -Nor could Antonio longer contain himself. - -"Can't you say what it is you want?" he exclaimed in a fury. "Did -you imagine you were marrying a prince? You knew all I had to offer! -You told me a hundred times you hadn't corrupted your soul with -vain ambitions; you said you were robust and unselfish; you said -you didn't ask impossible things of life! Why don't you look back -instead of always looking ahead? Didn't you say you were a bit of a -Socialist? Well, then, why don't you compare your condition with that -of millions and millions of other women?" - -She wept, leaning her forehead against the window-pane. Of course it -was raining, and it seemed to her that the heavens wept with her. -She knew Antonio was right, although he looked at the matter merely -on its material side, and did not understand the real causes of her -discontent. - -However, she laughed through her tears, laughed proudly and -ironically. - -"If you speak like that, we are done for," she said. - -He moderated his voice. "I speak crossly," he said, "but I mean well. -I am tired of seeing you so dissatisfied, Regina. What do you want me -to do? What can I give you beyond what I have--that is, all my work, -all my love, a good position, a morrow without cares?" - -"He doesn't understand," she thought; "I shall suffer, but no one -shall perceive it, he least of all. I shall be always solitary. Well! -I don't need any one, do I? I'm strong, am I not? Are you proposing -to let your heart be seen, Regina, by all these odious little -people?" And she shook her wings like a little bird which has tumbled -into dirty water. - -Antonio came nearer, and they made it up. - -"You know," he said, stroking her hair, "the agreement is only for -a year. Who knows what mayn't happen in a year? I shall apply for a -rise, get a step; then we shall have our house rent free. I'll try -to get extra work; perhaps Madame will put her whole affairs into my -hands. Our position will improve. We'll take a larger flat--with a -shorter stair. You'll get used to the stair. Some day you'll laugh at -having cried for such trifles. Now wash your face. How ugly you are -with those red eyes!" - -"Ugly or pretty, I'm always myself!" she said, plunging her face -into cold water; then she scrubbed it with the rough towel, powdered -herself, put on the lace scarf, and consented to go up and visit -Arduina. - -They found that lady's door open, and from the vestibule her voice -was heard in the drawing-room. - -"Who's there?" asked Regina. - -There was no one. - -"What are you doing? Talking to yourself?" asked Antonio. - -The authoress coloured, laughed, screamed, and confessed she was -rehearsing a speech for his Excellency the Minister of Public -Instruction, whom she was going to ask for a subscription for her -paper. - -"Does Mario know? I'll ask him what he thinks of it," said Antonio. - -"For pity's sake, don't!" she cried. - -"Doesn't it make you shy asking for money?" asked Regina, astonished. - -"Why should I be shy? Every one does it. It's not for myself I -ask--it's for the journal, which is doing terribly badly. I've asked -for a subscription and an audience of the Queen. And to-morrow I must -go to my uncle the Senator and learn----" - -"I'd sooner die than beg from anybody!" said Regina. - -"But why?" asked the other, astounded. "What harm does it do? If you -were a literary woman, and ran a paper and had an idea to sustain and -to make triumphant----" - -"Spare us--my dear goose!" interrupted Antonio. - -"And hold my tongue, I suppose? So you never ask for money? Nor take -advantage of anything useful which comes in your way? Why do you -stare, Regina? It's all a question of getting used to it." - -"Getting used to it? That's another matter." Regina felt a flood of -contemptuous words rise to her lips, but she kept silence, thinking -she would not deign even to reply. She walked to the window and saw -the little black-dressed woman with the seven lemons, in the corner -by the shut door; but she no longer felt the melancholy this sight -had waked in her on her first coming to Rome. _She had got used to -it._ - -"The Princess often asks for you," said Arduina, "won't you come to -her next reception? Now you've found a house and are getting settled, -you can begin to return visits and make acquaintances." - -"What good are acquaintances to me?" - -"What good are they to others? Don't be posing as an oddity," said -Antonio, a little sharply. - -"Shall I have enough drawing-room to receive them in?" returned -Regina in that cold voice of hers which froze her husband's heart. - -He was dismayed and silent. Arduina, however, did not understand. - -"Your drawing-room will be small," she said, "that means you can't -have a large circle. But you'd better come to the Princess's. It's in -your husband's interest." - -"No. I don't know what to make of your princesses," said Regina; -but immediately she repented, remembering her vows of a few minutes -before. She laughed, joked, turned everything upside down in the -little drawing-room, and promised to go with Arduina to see the -Senator uncle. - -"I'll tell him I'm a poetess, and ask him to get me an audience of -the Queen," she said gaily. - -"My dear child, capital!" cried Arduina in ecstasy. "Yes! yes! we'll -go together!" - -But Regina made a roguish gesture, moving her hand like a fan with -her thumb on the point of her nose; and the other laughed, more than -ever sure that her sister-in-law was half imbecile. - -Next day they went together to the distinguished uncle, who turned -out only a second cousin of Arduina's mother. The authoress had -dressed herself up. She wore a black dress much wrinkled on the -shoulders, a yellow straw hat trimmed with poppies; a feather boa so -thin and worn that people turned their heads to look at it. Regina, -also in black, with her inevitable lace scarf, seemed beside her -almost a beauty. - -The Senator lived in Via Sistina on a fourth floor. That comforted -Regina greatly. If a senator could exist on a fourth floor she -might get accustomed to a fifth. Still more was she comforted when -she saw the Senator's Apartment. It was very dark, and furnished -with a meagreness nearer to discomfort than to simplicity. A few -aspidistras, whose large leaves glistened feebly in the chiaroscuro, -adorned the ante-room and the two dreary reception-rooms through -which the ladies were conducted by an elderly chambermaid. There was -a portrait in oils of an old man, lean and red, with protruding blue -eyes and beautiful white hair (suggestive, however, of a wig), who -smiled sarcastically out of his yellow background. The portrait was -reflected in a cracked mirror; and the vast, dreary, dark room seemed -animated by the two figures--immobile against the yellow background -of the picture and the mirror--looking at each other, smiling -sarcastically, sharing some half mocking, half melancholy thought. - -Regina glanced at herself in the glass, and fancied that the two -figures, the one in front and the one behind, had fixed their mocking -eyes upon herself; then she turned suddenly, for she saw advancing -silently against the yellow background of the room a third figure -exactly like the other two. It was the Senator. - -"Oh, _brava!_" he said briskly, turning to Arduina and looking at -Regina. - -"Let me introduce my sister-in-law," said Arduina; "she has been -married one month." - -"How stupid she is!" thought Regina, but had herself nothing to say -when the old man congratulated her on having been married a month. - -"Oh, _brava! brava!_" he repeated; and Arduina quickly explained the -occasion of her visit. - -The old Senator again said "_Brava! brava!_" but Regina understood -perfectly that he was out of sympathy with the entire affair. - -"Oh, _brava! brava!_ It's your paper, to be sure; and devoted to the -woman question?" - -"No, no! Still--yes! to women's questions, properly understood." - -"I see!--women's questions properly understood. Well, teach the women -to work. Habituate them to the idea of work, of earning their living, -of independence. When I go abroad, especially when I go to England, -I am immensely struck by the 'moral physiognomy' of the women--so -different from our women at home--from you----" - -"But I do work!" protested Arduina. - -"Your work is not sufficiently profitable if you require -subscriptions!" cried Regina. - -"Oh, _brava! brava!_ And you, I suppose, write too?" - -"Oh, no! I don't do anything!" - -The Senator looked at her with his mocking and melancholy blue eyes; -and she blushed, remembering she had never worked in her life. - -"I want subscriptions," said Arduina, "because in Italy work is -not yet remunerative. But in the future--the generations we shall -educate----," etc., etc., etc. - -She made a long speech about the future generations, and returned to -her starting point: the urgent need for a subscription. - -"Bless the girl! She shall have the subscription!" said the Senator, -who was still looking at Regina. - -"And the audience also?" - -He promised the audience. At that moment he was smiling just as he -smiled in the portrait and in the mirror; and Regina perceived that -he pitied the poor Italian journalist and was thinking of the moral -physiognomy of the working Englishwomen. - -"But why the audience?" asked Regina, emboldened and imitating the -Senator's smile; "subscriptions are all very well--up to a certain -point--but the audience----" - -"It's a moral support. With reference to my principles----" - -"Yes, yes; a moral support," interrupted the Senator, still smiling. - -Regina felt rebellious. This man who found the moral physiognomy -of the women abroad so different from the moral physiognomy of the -incapable, enslaved Italians--why did he not make Arduina understand -the errors of her method? - -"But," she cried, almost angrily, "if you can't do without -assistance, moral or material, it's better--to do nothing at all! -We are always despoilers; and it's all one if we despoil fathers, -husbands, lovers, or royalty and the Government! - -"My dear, you don't understand!" said Arduina, who, had not taken in -Regina's meaning; "you talk like that because you've never felt the -need----" - -"You are from Lombardy?" asked the Senator, who, with his hands -folded on his breast, amused himself twiddling his thumbs. - -"I'm an incapable and useless Italian," she replied, very -contemptuous of herself. - -"But you are young. Why don't you write?" - -"What's the use of writing," she asked, meeting his eye mockingly, -"if it's only to ask for subscriptions and audiences?" - -The old man, still twiddling his thumbs, rose and took a step towards -the young lady. - -"What's your impression of Rome?" - -"Bad! It bores me! Town life is so wretched and gloomy. Besides, it -does nothing but rain," said Regina, and laughed. - -"What makes him stare so?" she thought; "can I possibly have the -moral physiognomy of the English ladies?" - -The old man stood in front of her, his back to Arduina, whose -presence he seemed to have forgotten. - -"Town life is wretched," he said, "because it's empty. Our women are -full of useless aspirations, and, as you say, despoil their men, who -deteriorate working too hard for their families. In those societies -where the woman works also, the man has a free margin for the -development of his abilities. In England----" - -"But what can we do," repeated Regina, "if we haven't been brought up -to work?" - -The Senator did not appear to hear her. He drew a picture of -English society where the whole middle class, the professional and -the working sections alike kept themselves up in literature, art, -politics, and promoted free discussion on all subjects; where the -women were not bored, because they worked. - -"They have hundreds of authoresses, translators, newspaper -correspondents, who make more than 10,000 _lire_ every year, some a -great deal more. Mrs. H. W.--do you know how much she gets for each -of her books?" - -Regina did not know. - -"More than seven or eight thousand pounds." - -Arduina hastily made the calculation. - -"More than 200,000 _lire_?" she said, awe-struck. "Dear me! I -shouldn't like to make all that!" - -"Why not?" - -"Because I should go off my head!" - -"But in Italy----" began Regina. - -"In Italy, too, a woman may earn a great deal. Work! work! there's -the secret." - -Regina left the old Senator's dark and melancholy house with a new -ray of light in her mind. Work! work! Yes, she also wanted work! She -would begin to write. If she was no good for anything else, at least -she might make some money. She wanted work; she wanted money; above -all she wanted to live. - -"I'll escape from this narrow circle which is strangling me. I'll -look life in the face. I'll lose myself in the great streets of -Rome, feel the soul of the crowd, write descriptions of the lives of -the poor, of those who are bored, of those who seem happy and are -not--life as it is----" - -When she got home she looked round with pitying eyes. Yes! Signora -Anna and the maid, Arduina and the brothers-in-law, the whole -environment and the souls set in it, all moved her to pity. And this -pity gave her a feeling of soft sweet warmth, of profound well-being. - -Antonio had not come in, and Regina stayed in her room. She took a -book and sat by the closed window. Evening came on. Little by little -the warmth which had been the result of the expedition died out. The -light failed. Great impalpable veils fell down round her, slowly, one -after the other. The book she held in her hand was so futile that she -had not been able to read two pages. She shut it up and looked at the -sky. But the line of sky above the ugly opposite façade was so ashen -and heavy that it gave her the impression of a sheet of metal. Only -one little red cloud, a wandering flame, illuminated the ashes of -this dead heaven. - -Suddenly Regina felt a great emptiness, a great cold within herself. -That little cloud had reminded her of the distant hearth fire in her -home; of all the little, simple, voiceless things which yet were -greater and brighter than all glory, all riches. She thought-- - -"Work! Money-making! Even if it were possible it couldn't give me -back my home, my past, my atmosphere! One little reality is worth -more than the greatest of ideals." - -"What is the Ideal?" she thought further, still watching the slow -passing of the cloud; and she copied the old Senator's smile, -remembering how he also imagined he had such lofty ideals! - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - -On Christmas Eve Regina went early to bed, complaining of an -indisposition which made Signora Anna thoughtful, but was not -suggestive to Antonio. He knew, or thought he knew, the subtle malady -which was consuming his wife. He knew its name: Nostalgia; and he -left to time the responsibility of its cure. - -Regina was no sooner in bed than she began to remember and to -meditate. Christmas in Rome! She saw over again the carts of live -fowls being drawn through the streets; the ladies passing quickly -along with parcels in their hands; the fat pork-butchers looking out -from their nauseating shops with the importance of Roman emperors; -his Excellency an Under-Secretary of State standing in front of -Dagnino's window with a visage of terrible perplexity. - -She reflected upon the quarrel which had broken out among Signora -Anna, Gaspare and the maid about wax candles. Marina had gone up and -down the stair at least twenty times, each time coming back with -parcels, but each time forgetting something. During the whole of -lunch and the whole of dinner the brothers, their mother and the girl -had discussed the supplies of food. - -Well! it had all produced in Regina a sort of spiritual indigestion. -Alone in the great bed, shivering, crumpled up, she was conscious of -an unspeakable depression. She felt like a little snail which hears -the rain pattering on its shell. And she thought continually of the -distant hearth, the grey night illumined by the snow. Behind the -voices and the laughter which vibrated from the dining-room, behind -the painful screech of the trams, behind the buzz of the merry-making -city, she heard the whistling of trains in the station. Some of the -whistles laughed, some wept; one, faint and tender, seemed the voice -of a questioning child; one was like a zigzag on a black sky; one -mocked at Regina. "Are you ready to go? Not you! not you! It's your -own fault. Here you've come, and here you stay! Good-bye! Good-bye!" - -She worked herself into a passion. She was angry even with his -Excellency, who had looked in at Dagnino's window, fixing his gold -eye-glasses. She asked, exasperated, who were all those strange -people laughing and joking in the dining-room? - -Antonio soon joined her. She pretended to sleep. He was solicitous -and touched her gently. Feeling her very cold, he drew nearer to warm -her. She was moved, but did not open her eyes. - -The hours passed. The city became silent. It slept, like a greedy -child to whom dainties are promised. Regina could not sleep, but she -was not insensible to the kindness and the warmth. The little snail -had looked out from the window of its shell and seen the sun shining -on the grass. Melodious sound of bells trembled and oscillated on -the quiet night. One seemed to come from beyond a river, grave, -sonorous, nostalgic. To her surprise Regina found herself repeating -certain lines of Prati's, which she was not conscious of having -known before. Whence did they arise? Perhaps from the depths of her -subconsciousness, evoked by the nostalgic song of the bells on that -first Christmas of exile. - - "Dreaming of home and of the country ways, - The village feastings and the green spring days." - -She repeated the lines many times to herself with sing-song monotony, -which ended by putting her asleep. She dreamed she was at home. -Her young sister played "Stefánia" on her mandoline. Regina saw -the mandoline distinctly and its inlaid picture of a troubadour -with a mandola. The little black cat was listening, rather bored, -and yawning ostentatiously. Outside fell the evening, violet-grey, -velvety, silent. Suddenly a perplexed visage with gold-rimmed -eye-glasses started up behind the window-panes. Regina laughed so -loud that she woke her husband. - -"Whatever is it?" he asked in alarm. - -"His Excellency," she murmured, still dreaming. - -Next morning, on awakening, Antonio found Regina in tears. - -"You were laughing last night--now you cry," he said, with slight -impatience. "Can't you explain what on earth's the matter with you?" - -"Nothing." - -"Nothing! You're crying! What are you crying about? I can't bear it -any longer! Why do you torment me like this?" - -She took his hand and passed it over her eyes. He repented. - -"What is it? What is it? Tell me--only tell me, Regina, Regina!" he -urged, tenderly and anxiously. - -"It has nothing to do with you," she said, hiding her face on his -breast, "it's all my own fault. I don't know why, but I can't conquer -the past--the homesickness--and I'm afraid of the future." - -He also felt a mysterious fear. - -"Why are you afraid of the future?" - -"Because--I suppose because we are poor. Rome is so horrid for the -poor." - -"But, Regina, we aren't poor!" he exclaimed with increasing alarm, -"and, anyhow, don't we love each other?" - -"To love--to vegetate--it's not enough--not enough," she murmured. - -"But you knew all about it, Regina!" - -"I knew and I know. I'm furious with myself that I can't overcome my -aversion to this _bourgeois_ life." - -"But after all--down there at your home--what sort of life were you -leading?" - -"Oh, Antonio! I had dreams!" - -Antonio understood the anguish in that cry, and tried to lull her -sorrow for the time being, administering as to a sick person an -innocuous soothing mixture. - -"Listen," he said, "it's just that you're a bit homesick. You'll find -that in a little time you'll get used to it all. I admit our life is -rather cramped, but do you suppose the rich people are happy?" - -"It's not riches I want!" - -"What is it then? _I_'m not vulgar, am I? or stupid? After all, it's -with _me_ you've got to live. Be reasonable. You shall make your own -surroundings just as you like them. Meantime, to cure you of your -homesickness you can go home to your own country whenever you like." - -The soothing mixture produced the desired effect. Regina raised a -radiant face. - -"In the spring?" she cried impetuously, "in the spring?" - -"Whenever you wish. And you'll see that in course of time----" - - * * * * * - -But the course of time only augmented Regina's trouble. - -The night of San Stefano Antonio took her to the Costanzi Theatre, -to the _Sedie_.[3] She put on her smartest frock, her best trinkets, -and went to the theatre, resolved to be astonished at nothing, for -had she not already been to the theatre at Parma? The Costanzi was -magnificent; an enormous casket where the most beautiful pearls in -the capital shone on feminine shoulders resplendent with "_Crema -Venus_." Even the pit was splendid, a field of great flowers -sprinkled with the dew of gems and gold. And in spite of her -experience at the Parma theatre, Regina felt sufficiently bewildered. -Her short-sighted eyes, dazzled by the brilliant light, were half -shut; and it was much the same with the eyes of her soul. She raised -her opera glass and looked at one of the boxes. The lady there was -plain in feature, but extremely fashionable; Regina thought her -painted, decked with false hair, her eyes artificially darkened. None -the less, she envied her. - -[3] The cheapest reserved seats. - -She looked round. Little by little her envy swelled, overflowed, -became hateful. She would have liked the theatre burned down. Then -she perceived that a lady near her was looking at the boxes just as -she was, perhaps with the same criminal envy in her heart. She felt -ashamed of herself, put down the glass, and after this did not look -at the seats above her again. But on her own level, in the furthest -row of the _Poltrone_,[4] she saw a long row of smartly dressed men -and women who always and only stared at the boxes. No one looked at -the _Sedie_. The people there were an inferior race, or actually -non-existent for the ladies and gentlemen in the _Poltrone_. - -[4] Seats next above the _Sedie_. - -"We are nothing! We are the microbes which fill the void," thought -Regina. - -Then she perceived another strange fact, that she herself felt for -the _Sedie_ and the gallery the very same contempt which was felt by -the people of the boxes and the stalls. - -Antonio thought she was enjoying the music and the spectacle as he -was himself; now and then he touched her hand and made some pleasant -remark. - -"You look a real queen with that necklace!" he said, for instance. - -"An exiled queen!" returned Regina under her breath. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - -Later, when she thought over that first year of marriage, Regina -divided it into many little chapters. Amongst them she attached -importance to the chapter of her first visit to the Princess Makuline. - -It took place on a warm, cloudy evening at the beginning of January. -Antonio was missing, having been detained at the Department till -nine, doing extra work; but Arduina and Regina waited in the Piazza -dell' Indipendenza for Massimo, who was to escort them. The Piazza, -almost deserted, was illumined by the pale gold rays of the veiled -moon. The bare trees were scarce visible in the vaporous air, the -small, motionless flames of the street lamps seemed far away. Regina, -standing in the middle of the great square, was pleasantly conscious -of silence, solitude, immensity. For the first time since she had -been in Rome she caught herself admiring something. - -"Come along!" said Massimo, arriving hurriedly, and brandishing a -pair of new gloves; "three-fifty they cost me! Woe to Madame if she -doesn't pay me with some hope!" - -"I believe you'd be capable of marrying her," said Regina, with a -gesture of disgust. - -"She'd like it," said Arduina. - -"Shut up! The point is--should I like it?" said the young man. "I'm -not for sale." - -Passing the Princess's little garden gate, Massimo said, "This is the -entrance for Madame's lovers!" - -But they walked on and rang at the hall door of the villa, or rather -of the villas, for there were two; small but handsome houses, joined -by an aërial terrace or hanging garden. - -"Like two little brothers holding each other's hands," said Regina, -with a sigh. - -A servant in plain clothes opened the polished door, and disclosed -two great wolves, apparently alive, lying in ambush on the red rugs -of the entrance hall. - -The rooms were much overheated. Thick carpets, skins of bears spread -before large low divans, themselves covered with furs, exhaled -what seemed the hot breath of wild beasts sleeping in the sun--an -atmosphere wild, voluptuous, noxious. Huge waving branches of -red-berried wild plants rose from tall metal vases. The Princess, -richly but clumsily dressed in black velvet and white lace, was -discoursing in French to two elderly ladies, telling them the -adventures of her aunt, wife of the man who had known Georges Sand. - -"At that time," she was saying, "my aunt was the best dressed woman -in Paris. Georges Sand described one of her costumes in the _Marquis -de Villemer_...." - -Beyond the two elderly ladies, an old gentleman, shaven and bald, his -head shining like a bowl of pink china, lolled in an arm-chair and -listened sleepily. - -Marianna, in a low pink dress, ran to the new-comers with her little -rat-like steps, and surveyed Regina inquisitively. - -"You look very well, Madame," she said; "is there no news?" - -"What news do you expect?" asked Regina. - -Marianna giggled, her little eyes shining unnaturally. Regina could -not resist the suspicion that the rat was excited with wine, and she -felt a resurgence of the curious physical disgust with which the -Princess and this girl inspired her. - -Madame at first paid scant attention to the Venutellis. Other -guests were arriving, the greater number elderly foreign ladies in -dresses of questionable freshness and fashion. Arduina soon got into -conversation with an unattractive gentleman whose round eyes and flat -nose surmounted an exaggerated jowl. Massimo followed in the wake of -Marianna, who came and went, running about, frisking and shrieking. -Regina was stranded between a stout lady who made a few observations -without looking at her, and the bald old gentleman who said nothing -at all. She soon grew bored, finding herself neglected and forgotten, -lost among all these fat superannuated people, these old silk gowns -which had outlived their rustle. How tedious! Was this the world of -the rich, the enchanted realm for which she had pined? - -"Regina shall not be seen here again," she told herself. - -Presently she saw Arduina smiling and beckoning to her from the -distance; but just then the Princess came over, and put her small -refulgent hand in Regina's with an affectionate and familiar gesture. - -"Won't you come and take a cup of tea?" she said. - -Regina started to her feet overwhelmed by so much attention. - -"How is your husband?" said the Princess, leading her to the -supper-room. - -"Very well, thank you," said Regina, in a low voice; "he hasn't been -able to come to-night because----" - -"Beg pardon?" said the Princess. - -All the elderly ladies and gentlemen followed the hostess, and seated -themselves round the room, in which a sumptuous table was laid. -Marianna ran hither and thither, distributing the tea. - -"Could you help?" she asked, passing Regina; "you seem like a girl. -Come with me." - -Regina followed her to the table, but did not know what to do; she -upset a jug and blushed painfully. - -"Here!" said Marianna, giving her a plate, "take that to the man like -a dog." - -"Which man? Speak low!" - -"The man beside your sister-in-law. He's an author." - -Regina crossed the room shyly, carrying the plate, and imagining -every one was looking at her. There was consolation in the thought -that she was about to offer a slice of tart to an author. - -"Oh, Signorina!" he exclaimed, with a deprecating bow. - -"Signora, if you please!" said Arduina, "she's my sister-in-law." - -"My compliments and my condolences," said the man, insolently; he -rolled his great eyes round the room and added, "In this company you -seem a child." - -"Why condolences?" asked Arduina. - -"Because she's your sister-in-law," replied he. - -Regina perceived that the author was very impudent, and she -retreated to the table. Not finding Marianna she timidly possessed -herself of another plate and took it to Massimo, who, also neglected -and forgotten, was standing near the door. - -"Oh, you're doing hostess, are you?" he said. "Look here! bring me a -glass of that wine in the tall, gold-necked bottle at the corner of -the table. Drink some yourself." - -Regina went for it, but found the Princess herself pouring wine at -that moment from the bottle with the golden neck. - -"Massimo would like a glass of that," she murmured ingenuously. - -"Beg pardon?" said the Princess, who fortunately had not heard. - -Regina, however, found a wine-glass ready filled, and carried it to -her brother-in-law; exquisite bouquet rose from the glass as perfume -from a flower. - -"It's port, you know," said Massimo, with genuine gratitude; "thanks, -little sister-in-law! You're my salvation! 'Tis the wine of the -modern gods." - -"You are facetious to-night." - -"Hush! I'm bored to death. Let's go. We'll leave Arduina. Who's that -baboon-faced person she's got hold of?" - -"That's an author." - -"_Connais pas_," said the other, eating and drinking. "What a rabble! -No one but rabble." - -"Just so," said Regina, "and we belong to it." - -"On the contrary, we'll snap our fingers at it. No! we are young -and may some day be rich. Those folk are rich, but they'll never be -young, my dear!" - -"Take care! I think you are right though." - -"Then bring me another glass of port!" said Massimo, imploringly. - -"Certainly not!" - -The old ladies and gentlemen, mildly excited by the wines and the -tea, raised their voices, moved about, clustered in knots and -circles. In the confusion Regina again found herself beside the -hostess. - -"But you've had positively nothing!" said Madame; "come with me. Have -a glass of port? How's your husband?" - -"The second time!" thought Regina; and she shouted, "Very well -indeed, thank you." - -"Have you moved yet? How do you like your house? Come, drink this! -Have some sweets? The pastry's pretty good to-day. Oh, Monsieur -Massimo! won't you have another cup of tea? No? A glass of port, -then? Tell me, are you also at the Treasury?" - -"No, Madame; in the War Office." - -Marianna no sooner observed that the Princess was talking to the -Venutellis than she thrust her restless face behind Regina's -shoulder; and it struck the latter that this girl watched her -patroness over much. - -"I've a bothersome affair on hand," said Madame, slowly; "some money -due in Milan which I want paid to me in Rome. I'm told I must have a -warrant from the Treasury, Monsieur Antonio must come and speak to me -to-morrow." - -"I'll tell him the moment I get in," cried Regina. - -Marianna said something in Russian, turning to Madame with an air -almost of command. The Princess replied with her usual calm, but -quickly afterwards she moved away. - -"Now I must pay for the help you gave me," said Marianna to Regina, -pouring out a glass of a white liqueur. "Drink this." - -"No, thanks." - -"It's vodka. The Russian ladies get tipsy with this. See how I drink -it! I'm half tipsy already," she went on, raising the glass and -looking through it; "I don't mind! It has the opposite effect on me -to what it has on every one else. After drinking, I no longer speak -the truth." - -"I don't observe it," said Massimo, dryly. "So this is vodka, is it? -It's nasty." - -"Oh, I've had none to speak of to-day!" said Marianna. She laughed -and sipped; then held the glass to Regina's lips and made her drink -too. - -"Now we'll go and interrupt the idyll of the dog and the cat," said -Marianna, leading the way to the next room where Arduina and the -author were still _tęte-ŕ-tęte_ under the branches of the red-berried -plant. - -Regina and Marianna sat down opposite to them on a divan of furs, and -Massimo remained standing. In the next room one of the old ladies was -playing "_Se a te, O cara!_" - -Regina now felt an inexplicable content; the gentle yet impassioned -music, the warmth of the divan whose soft furriness suggested a pussy -cat to be stroked; the indefinable perfume with which the hot air -was charged, the vodka, too, which still pulsed in her throat--all -gave her the initial feelings of a pleasant intoxication. Arduina -also seemed excited. She spoke loud, in the tones which Regina had -noted in the flirtatious cousin, Claretta. She seemed no longer to -recognise her relations. - -"What's the matter with the silly thing?" Regina asked herself, and -Marianna must have guessed her thought, for she said slyly, "They're -love-making." - -Regina laughed unthinkingly. Then suddenly she felt shocked. - -"Is it possible!" she murmured. - -"Anything is possible," said the rat. "You are such a child as yet; -but in time you'll see--_anything is possible_." - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - -Next day Antonio went to the Princess about the collection of her -rents. She invited him and his wife to dinner on Sunday, and this -invitation was followed by others. Regina accepted them all, but -unwillingly. The dinners were magnificent, served by pompous men -servants, whose solemnity, said Antonio, spoiled his digestion. -Regina found the entertainments dull, and came away out of temper. -The guests were elderly foreigners or obscure Italian poets and -artists; their conversation might have been interesting, for it -touched on letters, art, the theatre, matters of palpitating -contemporary life, but only stale commonplaces were uttered, and -Regina heard nothing at all correspondent to the ideas sparkling in -her own mind. - -She was bored; yet no sooner was she back in the atmosphere of Casa -Venutelli than she thought enviously of the Princess's saloons, where -the servants passed and waited, silent and automatic as machines, -where all was beauty, luxury, splendour, and the light itself seemed -to shine by enchantment. - -At last the day came when Antonio and his wife chose the furniture -for their own Apartment in Via Massimo d'Azeglio. - -"We'll go on Sunday and settle how to arrange it," said Antonio, and -Regina thought dolefully of all the fatigue and worry awaiting her. - -"Fancy coping with a servant!" she reflected, panic-struck. - -On Sunday morning they went to their little habitation. It was -late in January, a pure, soft morning with whiffs of spring in the -air. Regina ran up the hundred-odd steps, and when, panting and -perspiring, she arrived at her hall door she amused herself by -ringing the bell. - -"Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle! Who is there? Mr. Nobody! What fun going to -visit Mr. Nobody!" - -Antonio opened with a certain air of mystery and marched in -first. Then he turned and made Regina a low bow. She looked round -astonished, and exclaimed, with faint irony, "But I thought this kind -of thing only happened in romances!" - -The Apartment was all in complete order. Curtains veiled the -half-open windows. The large white bed stood between strips of -carpet, upon which were depicted yellow dogs running with partridges -in their mouths. Even in the kitchen nothing was missing or awry. - -Antonio stood at the window, leaving Regina time to get over her -surprise. She hated herself because somehow she did not feel all the -pleasurable emotion which her husband might justly expect of her. -However, she understood quite well what she must do. She thought-- - -"I must kiss him and say, 'How good you are!'" - -So she did kiss him, and said "How good you are!" quite cheerfully. -His eyes filled with boyish delight, and at sight of this she felt -touched in earnest. - -"Antonio," she cried, "you really are good, and I am very wicked. -But I'm going to improve, I really, really am!" - -And for a week or a fortnight she was good; docile and even merry. -She was very busy settling her treasures in the cabinets, her clothes -in the wardrobes, altering this table and that picture; never in her -whole life had she worked so hard! The first night she slept in the -soft new bed, between the fine linen sheets of her trousseau, she -felt as if delivered from an incubus, and about to begin a new life, -with all the happiness, all the renewed energy of a convalescent. -By this time fine weather had come. The Roman sky was cloudless; -springtime fragrance filled the air; the city noises reached Regina's -rooms like the sound of a distant waterfall, subdued and sweet. In -the sun-dappled garden below, a thin curl of water was flung by a -tiny fountain into a tiny vase, dotted with tiny goldfish; monthly -roses bloomed; and a couple of white kittens chased each other along -the paths. The little garden seemed made expressly for the two -graceful little beasts. - -Regina passed several happy days. But when all the things were safely -installed in the wardrobes and cabinets she found she had nothing -more to do. The servant, of whom she had thought with so much dread, -looked after everything, was well behaved and prettily mannered. She -was an expense, but worth it. Regina's only worry was making out the -account for the maid's daily purchases. She got used even to this; -and again began to be bored. She stood before her glass for long -hours, brushing, washing and dressing her hair, polishing her nails -and teeth. She looked at herself in profile, from this side and that, -powdered her face, took to using "_Crema Venus_," laced herself -very tight. But afterwards, or indeed at the moment, she asked with -impatient and disgusted self-reproach, "Are you a fool, Regina? -What's all this for? What on earth is the good of it?" - -Of her few visitors, almost all were tiresome relations; among -them Aunt Clara and Claretta. Aunt Clara, jealous of Arduina's -aristocratic acquaintances, had much to relate of banquets and -receptions at which she had assisted. - -"And Claretta, as I need not say----" - -Claretta admired herself in all the mirrors, ransacked Regina's -toilet-table, passed through the little Apartment like the wind, -upsetting everything. Regina hated the mother, hated the daughter, -hated the whole connection, including Arduina, who nevertheless took -her about, introducing her to countesses and duchesses at whose -houses she met others of like rank. - -"It's appalling the number of countesses in Rome," said Regina to her -husband. - -She was partly amused, partly wearied; she was not offended when the -grand ladies failed to return her visits; and she no longer wondered -at the shocking things said in almost all the drawing-rooms about the -people most distinguished in the literary, the political, and even in -the private world. - -"Anything is possible," said Marianna, "and what is most possible of -all is that the things they say are calumnies." - -In the early spring Regina had a recrudescence of nostalgia and -discontent. The little Apartment began to be hot. She stood for -hours at the window with the nervous unquiet of a bird not yet used -to its cage. From the "Pussies' Garden" rose a smell of damp grass -which induced in her spasms of homesickness. Sometimes she looked -down through her eye-glass, and saw a certain short and plump, pale -and bald young man, strolling round and round the little vase into -which the fountain wept tears of tedium. Life was tedious also for -that young man. Regina remembered seeing him on the evening of San -Stefano in a box at the Costanzi, his face bloated and yellow as an -unripe apricot; and she had included him in her incendiary hatred. -Now he, too, was bored. Was he bored because he had come down into -the garden, or had he come down into the garden because he was bored? -Sometimes he stood and teased the goldfish; then he yawned and -battered the flowers with his stick, the wistaria on the walls, the -monthly roses, the innocent daisies. - -"He must beat something," thought Regina, and remembered that -she herself was itching to torment any one or anything. On -rainy days--frequent and tedious--she became depressed, even to -hypochondria. Only one thought comforted her--that of the return -to her home. She counted the days and the hours. Strange, childish -recollections, distant fancies, passed through her mind like clouds -across a sad sky. Details of her past life waked in her melting -tenderness; she remembered vividly even the humblest persons of -the place, the most secret nooks in the house or in the wood; with -strange insistence she thought of certain little things which never -before had greatly struck her. For instance, there was an old -millstone, belonging to a ruined mill, which lay in the grass by -the river-side. The remembrance of that old grey millstone, resting -after its labour beside the very stream with which it had so long -wrestled, moved Regina almost to tears. Often she tried to analyse -her nostalgia, asking herself why she thought of the millstone, -of the old blind chimney sweep, of the _portiner_ (ferryman), who -had enormous hairy hands and was getting on for a hundred; of the -clean-limbed children by the green ditch, intent on making straw -ropes; of the little snails crawling among the leaves of the -plane-trees. - -"I am an idiot!" she thought; yet with the thought came a sudden rush -of joy at the idea of soon again seeing the millstone, the ferryman, -the children, the green ditches, and the little snails. - -And outside it rained and rained. Rome was drowned in mire and gloom. -Regina raged like a furious child, wishing that upon Rome a rain of -mud might fall for evermore, forcing all the inhabitants to emigrate -and go away. Then, then she would return to her birth-place, to the -wide horizons, the pure flowing river of her home; she would be born -anew, she would be Regina once more, a bird alive and free! - -Antonio went out and came in, and always found her wrapped in her -homesick stupor, indifferent to everything about her. - -"Let's take a walk, Regina!" - -"Oh, no!" - -"It would do you good." - -"I am quite well." - -"You can't be well. You are so dull. You don't care for me, that's -what it is!" - -"Oh, yes, I do! And if I don't, how can I help it?" - -Sometimes, indeed, she included even Antonio in the collective hatred -which she nourished against everything representative of the city. -At those moments he seemed an inferior person, bloodless and half -alive, one among all the other useless phantasms scarce visible in -the rain, through which she alone in her egotism and her pride loomed -gigantic. - -But the warm and luminous spring came at last, and troops of men, -women and flower-laden children spread themselves through the -streets, in the depths of which Regina's short-sighted eyes fancied -silvery lakes. In the fragrant evenings, bathed it would seem in -golden dust, companies of women, fresh as flowers in their new spring -frocks, came down by Via Nazionale, by the Corso, by Via del Tritone. -Carriages passed heaped up with roses, red motor-cars flew by, -bellowing like young monsters drunk with light, and even they were -garlanded with flowers. - -Regina walked and walked, on Antonio's arm, or sometimes alone; alone -among the crowd, alone in the wave of all those joyous women, whose -thoughtlessness she both envied and despised; alone among the smiling -parties of sisters, companions, friends, by not one of whom, however, -would she have been accompanied for anything in the world! One day, -as she was going up Piazza Termini, she saw Arduina in the famous -black silk dress with wrinkles on the shoulders. Regina would have -avoided her sister-in-law, but did not set about it soon enough. - -"I've been to your house," said Arduina; "why are you never at home? -it's impossible to catch you. What are you always doing? Where have -you been? Even our mother complains of you. Why don't you have a -baby?" - -"Why don't _you_? And where are _you_ going?" said Regina, with -sarcasm. - -"I'm going to the Grand Hotel, to see a very rich English '_miss_.' -You can come too, if you like. She's worth it!" - -Regina went, so anxious was she for something to do. The sunset -tinged the Terme and the trees with orange-red. From the gardens -came the cry of children and twitterings like the rustling of water -from innumerable birds. Higher than all else, above the transparent -vastness of the Piazza, above the fountain, which clear, luminous, -pearly, seemed an immense Murano vase, towered the Grand Hotel, its -gold-lettered name sparkling on its front like an epigraph on the -façade of a temple. - -There was a confusion of carriages before the columns of the -entrance, of servants in livery, of gentlemen in tall hats, of -fashionably attired ladies. A royal carriage with glossy, jet-black -horses, was conspicuous among the others. - -"It must be the Queen," said Arduina. "I'd like to wait!" - -"Good-bye to you, then," returned her sister-in-law, "where there is -one Regina there's no room for another!" - -"Good heavens! what presumption!" laughed the other. "Well, then, -come on." - -Arduina led the way through the carriages and through the smart -crowd which animated the hall; then humbly inquired of a waiter if -Miss Harris were at home. The waiter bent his head and listened, but -without looking at the two ladies. - -"Miss Harris? I think she's at home. Take a seat," he replied -absently, his eyes on the distance. - -Regina remembered Madame Makuline's awe-inspiring servants; this -man provoked not only awe, but a sort of terror. They went into the -conservatory, and Arduina looked about with respectful admiration. -The younger lady was silent, lost in the dream world she saw before -her. - -Apparently they had intruded into a _fęte_. A strange light of ruddy -gold streamed from the glass roof; among the palm-trees, treading -on rich carpets, was a phantasmagoria of ladies dressed in silks -and satins, with long rustling trains, their heads, ears, necks, -brilliant with jewels. Bursts of laughter and the buzz of foreign -voices mixed with the rattle of silver and the ring of china cups. -It was a palace of crystal; a world of joy, of fairy creatures -unacquainted with the realities of life, dwelling in the enchantment -of groves of palms, rosy in the light of dream! - -"The realities of life!" thought Regina, "but is not this the reality -of life? It's the life of us mean little people which is the ugly -dream!" - -Just then a splendid creature, robed in yellow satin, who, as she -passed, left behind her the effulgence of a comet, crossed the -conservatory, and stopped to speak to two ladies in black. - -"It's Miss Harris!" whispered Arduina; "she's coming!" - -Regina had never imagined there could exist a being so beautiful -and luminous. She watched her with dilated eyes, while from the -far end of the conservatory breathed slow and voluptuous music -overpowering the voices, the laughter, the rattle of the cups. Miss -Harris drew nearer. Regina's eyes grew wild, she was overpowered by -almost physical torture, by burning sadness. The rosy sunset light -brooding over the palms as in an Oriental landscape, the warmth, the -scent, the music, the dazzling aspect of the wealthy foreigner, all -produced in her a kind of nostalgia, the atavic recollection of some -wondrous world, where all life was pleasure and from which she had -been exiled. Ah! at that moment she realised quite clearly what was -the ill disease gnawing at her vitals! Ah! it was not the regret, the -nostalgia for her early home, for her childish past; it was the death -of the dreams which had filled that past, dreams which had perfumed -the air she had breathed, the paths she had trod, the place where she -had dwelt: dreams which were no fault of her own because born with -her, transmitted in her blood, the blood of a once dominant race. - -Miss Harris approached the corner where sat the two little -_bourgeois_ ladies, trailing her long shining train, her whole -elegant slimness suggesting something feline. The two foreign ladies -accompanied her talking in incomprehensible French. Arduina had to -get up and smile very humbly before the Englishwoman recognised -her, shook her hand, and spoke with condescending affability. Then -Miss Harris sat down, her long tail wound round her legs like that -of a reposing cat, and began to talk. She was tired and bored; she -had been for a drive in a motor, had had a private audience of the -Pope, and in half-an-hour was due at some great lady's reception. -She did not look at Regina at all. After a minute she appeared to -forget Arduina; a little later, the two foreign ladies also. She -seemed talking for her own ears; in her beauty and splendour she was -self-sufficient, like a star which scintillates for itself alone. -From far and near everybody watched her. - -Regina trembled with humiliation. In her modest short frock she felt -herself disappearing; she was ashamed of her lace scarf; when Miss -Harris offered her a cup of tea she repulsed it with an inimical -gesture. She felt again that sense of puerile hatred which had -assaulted her at the Costanzi on the evening of San Stefano. - -As they left the hotel she said to her sister-in-law, "I can't think -what you came for! Why are you so mean-spirited? Why did you listen -so slavishly to that woman who hardly noticed your presence?" - -"But weren't you listening quite humbly, too?" - -"I? I'd like to have seized and throttled you all! Good God, what -fools you women are!" - -"My dear Regina," said the other, confounded, "I don't understand -you!" - -"I know you don't. What do you understand? Why do you go to such -places? What have you to do with people like that? Don't you take in -that they are the lords of the earth and we the slaves?" - -"But we're the intelligent ones! We are the lords of the future! -Don't you hear the clatter of our wooden shoes going up and of their -satin slippers coming down?" - -"We? What, _you_?" said Regina, contemptuously. - -"Mind that carriage!" cried Arduina, pulling her back. - -"You see? They drive over us! What's the good of intelligence? What -is intelligence compared with a satin train?" - -"Oh, I see! You're jealous of the satin train," said the other, -laughing good-humouredly. - -"Oh, you're a fool!" cried Regina, beside herself. - -"Thanks!" said Arduina, unoffended. - -Returned home, Regina threw herself on the ottoman in the ante-room, -and remained there nearly an hour, beating the devil's tattoo with -her foot in time to the ticking of the clock, which seemed the -heart of the little room. Her own heart was overflown by a wave of -humiliating distress. Ah! even the ridiculous Arduina had guessed -what ailed her. - -Daylight was dying in the adjacent room, and the dining-room, which -looked out on the courtyard, was already overwhelmed in heavy shadow. -The open door made a band of feeble light across the passage of the -ante-room, while in its angles the penumbra continually darkened. -Watching it, Regina reflected. - -"The penumbra! What a horrid thing is the penumbra! Horrid? No, it's -worse! It's noxious--soul-stifling! Better a thousand times the full -shadow, complete darkness. In the shadow there is grief, desperation, -rebellion--all that is life; but in this half-light it's all tedium, -want, agony. It's better to be a beggar than a little _bourgeois_. -The beggar can yell, can spit in the face of the prosperous. The -little _bourgeois_ is silent; he's a dead soul, he neither can nor -ought to speak. What does he want? Hasn't he got the competence -already, which some day every one is to have? His share is already -given to him. If he asks for more he's called ambitious, egotistic, -envious. Even the idiots call him so! Satin trains--green and shining -halls like gardens spread out in the sun--motors like flying dragons! -And the gardens, the beautiful gardens '_half seen through little -gates_,' country houses hidden among pines, like rosy women under -green lace parasols! That should be the heritage of the future, of -the to-morrow, promised us though not yet come. But no! all that -is to disappear! The world is small and can't be divided into more -than two parts, the day and the night, the light and the shade. But -some day it's to be all penumbra! Every one's to be like us, every -one's to live in a little dark Apartment with interminable stairs; -all the streets are to be dusty, overrun by smelly trams, by troops -of middle-class women who will go about on foot, dressed with sham -elegance, wearing mock jewellery, carrying paper fans; joyous with -a pitiable joy. The whole world will be tedium and destitution. The -beggars won't have attained to the dreams which made them happy; the -children of the rich will live on nostalgia, remembering the dream -which was once reality to them. What will be the good of living then? -Why am I living now?" - -Then suddenly she remembered three figures, all exactly alike; three -figures of an old man in a dreary room, who smiled and looked at -each other with humorous sympathy, like three friends who understand -without need of words. Work! Work! There's the secret of life! - -The voice of the old Senator resounded still in Regina's soul. Since -seeing him she had learned his story; his wife, a beautiful woman, -brilliant and young, had killed herself, for what reason none could -say. Work! Work! That was the secret! Perhaps the old Senator, -panegyrising the working woman, had been thinking of his wife who had -never worked. - -Work! This was the secret of the world's future. All would eventually -be happy because all would work. - -"No! I don't represent the future as I have fondly fancied. I belong -to the present--very much to the present! I am the parasite _par -excellence_. I eat the labour of my husband, and I devour his moral -life as well, because he loves me--loves me too much. I don't even -make him happy. Why do I live? What's the good of me? What use am -I? I'm good for nothing but to bear children; and, in point of -fact, I don't want any children! I shouldn't know how to bring them -up! Besides, what's the good of bringing children into the world? -Wouldn't it be better I had never been born? What's the good of life?" - -Surely her soul had become involved in the shadow darkening round -her! Everything in her seemed dead. And then suddenly she thought of -the luminous evenings on the shores of her great river at home; and -saw again the wide horizons, the sky all violet and geranium colour, -the infinite depths of the waters, the woods, the plain. She passed -along the banks, the subdued splendour of all things reflected in -her eyes, the water of rosy lilac, the heavens which flamed behind -the wood, the warm grass which clothed the banks. Young willow-trees -stretched out to drink the shining water, and they drank, they drank, -consumed by an inextinguishable thirst. She passed on, and as the -little willows drank, so she also drank in dreams from the burning -river. What limitless horizons! What deeps of water! What tender -distant voices carried by the waves, dying on the night! Was it a -call out of a far world? Was it the crying of birds from the wood? -Was it the woodpecker tapping on the poplar-tree? - -Alas, no! it was her own foot beating the devil's tattoo; it was the -clock ticking away indifferently in the penumbra of the little room; -it was the caged canary moaning for nostalgia in the window opposite, -above the lurid abyss of the courtyard. - -Regina jumped to her feet; she was rebellious and desperate, -suffocated by a sense of rage. - -"I'll tell him the moment he comes in," she thought; "I'll cry, 'Why -did you take me from there? Why have you brought me to this place? -What can I do here? I must go away. I require air. I require light. -You can't give me light, you can't give me air, and you never told -me! How was I to know the world was like this? Away with all these -gimcracks, all this lumber! I don't want it. I only want air! air! -air! I am suffocating! I hate you all! I curse the city and the -men who built it, and the fate which robs us even of the sight of -heaven!'" - -She went to her room, and automatically looked in the glass. By the -last glimmer of day she saw her beautiful shining hair, her shining -teeth, her shining nails, her fine skin which (softened by a light -stratum of "_Crema Venus_") had almost the transparent delicacy of -Miss Harris's. Her resentment grew. She went to her dressing-table, -snatched up the bottle of "_Crema_" and dashed it against the wall. -The bottle bounded off on the bed without breaking. She picked it up -and replaced it on the table. - -"No! no! no!" she sobbed, throwing herself on the pillow, "I will -not bear it! I'll say to him, 'Do you see what I'm becoming? Do you -see what you're making me? To-day a soiling of the face, to-morrow -soiling of the soul! I will go away--I will go away--away! I will go -back home. You are nothing to me!' Yes, I will tell him the moment he -comes in!" - -When he came in he found her seated quietly at the table, busy with -the list of purchases for the following day. It was late, the lamps -were lit, the table was laid, the servant was preparing supper. The -whole of the little dwelling was pervaded by the contemptible yet -merry hissing of the frying-pan and the smell of fried artichokes. -From the window, open towards the garden, penetrated the contrasting -fragrance of laurels and of grass. - - _lire. cent._ - - Milk 0.20 - Bread 0.20 - Wine 1.10 - Meat 1.00 - Flour 0.50 - Eggs 0.50 - Salad 0.05 - Butter 0.60 - Asparagus 0.50 - ---- - L. 4.65 - -Antonio came over to the table, bent down, and looked at the paper on -which Regina was writing. - -"I was here at six, and couldn't find you," he said. - -"I was out." - -"Listen. The Princess sent a note to the office asking me to go to -her at half-past six; so I went." - -"What did she want?" - -"Well--she's beginning to be a nuisance, you know--she wants me to -keep an eye on the man who speculates for her on the Stock Exchange." - -Regina looked up and saw that Antonio's face was pale and damp. - -"On the Stock Exchange? What does that mean?" - -"What it means? I'll explain some time. But--well, really, that woman -is becoming a plague!" - -"But if she pays you?" said Regina; "and are you good at speculating?" - -"I only wish I had the opportunity!" he exclaimed, tossing his hat -to the sofa; "I wish I had a little of Madame's superfluous money! -But this isn't a case of speculating. I'm to study the state of -the money-market and audit the operations carried out by Cavaliere -R---- on the Princess's account; take note of the details of daily -transactions; get information from the brokers; in short, exercise -rigorous control over all the fellow does." - -"But," insisted Regina, "she'll pay you well, won't she?" - -"Beg pardon?" he said, mimicking the Princess. - -"How much will she pay you?" shouted Regina. - -"A hundred _lire_ or so. She's a skinflint, you know." - -"Supper's on the table, Signora," announced the servant with her -accustomed elegant decorum. - -During the meal Antonio expounded the operations on 'Change, and -other financial matters, talking with a certain enthusiasm. She -appeared interested in what he told her; yet while she listened her -eyes shone with the vague light of a thought very far away from what -Antonio was saying. That thought was straying in a dark and empty -distance; like a blind man feeling his way in a strange place, it -sought and sought something to be a point of rest, a support, or at -least a sign. - -Suddenly, however, Regina's eyes sparkled and returned to the world -about her. - -"Why shouldn't _you_ be Madame's confidential agent?" she said; "her -secretary? I remember what I dreamed the first night I saw her at -Arduina's--that she was dead and had left us her money!" - -"It would be easy enough," said Antonio. - -"To get the money?" - -"No--the administration of her affairs. True, one would have to -flatter and cringe, and take people in, especially as she employs -two or three others in addition to the Cavaliere. One would have to -intrigue against them all. I don't care for that sort of business." - -"Nor I," said Regina, stiffening. - -She rose and moved to the window which overlooked the garden. Antonio -followed her. The night was warm and voluptuous. The scent of laurel -rose ever sweeter and stronger; patches of yellow light were spread -over the little garden paths like a carpet. Regina looked down, then -raised her eyes towards the darkened blue of the heavens and sighed, -stifling the sigh in a yawn. - -"After all," said Antonio, pursuing his own line of thought, "are we -not happy? What do we lack?" - -"Nothing and everything!" - -"What is lacking to us, I say?" repeated Antonio, questioning himself -rather than his wife; "what do you mean by your 'everything'?" - -"Do you see the Bear?" she asked, looking up, and pretending not to -have heard this question. He looked also. - -"No, I don't----" - -"Then we do lack something! We can't see the stars." - -"What do you want with the stars? Leave them where they are, for -they're quite useless! If there were anything you really wanted you -wouldn't be crying for the stars." - -"Then you think I am lacking in----?" She touched her forehead. - -"So it seems!" - -"Perhaps the deficiency is in you," she said quickly. - -"Now you're insulting me, and I'll take you and pitch you out of the -window!" he jested, seizing her waist. "If my wits are deficient, -it's because you're making me lose them with your folly!" - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - -She was not guilty of folly in action, but certainly her words became -stranger and stranger. Antonio sometimes found them amusing; more -often they distressed him. Though seemingly calm, Regina could not -hide that she was under the dominion of a fixed idea. What was she -thinking about? Even when he held her in his arms, wrapped in his -tenderest embrace, Antonio felt her far, immeasurably far, away from -him. In the brilliant yet drowsy spring mornings while the young pair -still lay in the big white bed, Antonio would repeat his questions to -himself: "What do we lack! Are we not happy?" - -Through the half-shut windows soft light stole in and gilded the -walls. Infinite beatitude seemed to reign in the room veiled by that -mist of gold, fragrant with scent, lulled to a repose unshaken by -the noises of the distant world. In the profound sweetness of the -nuptial chamber Regina felt herself at moments conquered by that -somnolent beatitude. Antonio's searching question had its echo in -her soul also. What was it that they lacked? They were both of them -young and strong; Antonio loved her ardently, blindly. He lived in -her. And he was so handsome! His soft hands, his passionate eyes, -had a magic which often succeeded in intoxicating her. And yet in -those delicious mornings, at the moments when she seemed happiest, -while Antonio caressed her hair, pulling it down and studying it like -some precious thing, her face would suddenly cloud, and she would -re-commence her extravagant speeches. - -"What are we doing with our life?" - -Antonio was not alarmed. - -"What are we doing? We are living; we love, we work, eat, sleep, take -our walks, and when we can we go to the play!" - -"But that isn't living! Or, at least, it's a useless life, and I'm -sick of it!" - -"Then what do you want to be doing?" - -"I don't know. I'd like to fly! I don't mean sentimentally, I mean -really. To fly out of the window, in at the window! I'd like to -invent the way!" - -"I've thought of it myself sometimes." - -"You know nothing about it!" she said, rather piqued. "No, no! I want -to do something you couldn't understand one bit; which, for that -matter, I don't understand myself!" - -"That's very fine!" - -"It's like thirsting for an unfindable drink with a thirst nothing -else can assuage. If you had once felt it----" - -"Oh, yes, I have felt it." - -"No, you can't have felt it! You know nothing about it." - -"You must explain more clearly." - -"Oh, never mind! You don't understand, and that's enough. Let my hair -alone, please." - -"I say, what a lot of split hairs you have! You ought to have them -cut, I was telling you----" - -"What do I care about hair? It's a perfectly useless thing." - -"Well," he said, after pretending to seek and to find a happy -thought, "why don't you become a tram-conductor?" and he imitated the -rumble of the tram and the gestures of the conductor. - -"I won't demean myself by a reply," she said, and moved away from -him; but presently repented and said-- - -"Do the little bird!" - -"I don't know how to do the little bird!" - -"Yes, you do. Go on, like a dear!" - -"You're making a fool of me. I understand that much." - -"You don't understand a bit! You do the little bird so well that I -like to see you!" - -He drew in his lips, puffed them out, opened and shut them like the -beak of a callow bird. She laughed, and he laughed for the pleasure -of seeing her laugh, then said-- - -"What babes we are! If they put that on the stage--good Lord, think -of the hisses!" - -"Oh, the stage! That's false if you like! And the novel. If you wrote -a novel in which life was shown as it really is, every one would -cry 'How unnatural!' I do wish I could write!--could describe life -as I understand it, as it truly is, with its great littlenesses and -its mean greatness! I'd write a book or a play which would astonish -Europe!" - -He looked at her, pretending to be so overwhelmed that he had no -words, and again she felt irritated. - -"You don't understand anything! You laugh at me! Yet if I could----" - -In spite of himself Antonio became serious. - -"Well, why can't you?" - -"Because first I should have to----No, I won't tell you. You can't -understand! Besides, I can't write; I don't know how to express -myself. My thoughts are fine, but I haven't the words. That's the -way with so many! What do you suppose great men, the so-called great -thinkers, are? Fortunate folk who know how to express themselves! -Nietzsche, for instance. Don't you think I and a hundred others have -all Nietzsche's ideas, without ever having read them? Only he knew -how to set them down, and we don't. I say Nietzsche, but I might just -as well say the author of the _Imitation_." - -"You should have married an author," said Antonio, secretly jealous -of the man whom Regina had perhaps dreamed of but never met. - -Again she felt vexed. "It's quite useless! You don't understand me. I -can't get on with authors a bit. Let me alone now. I told you not to -fiddle with my hair!" - -"Stop! Don't go away! Let's talk more of your great thoughts. You -think me an idiot. But listen, I want to say one thing; don't -laugh. You want to do something wonderful. Well, an American -author--Emerson, I think--said to his wife, that the greatest miracle -a woman could perform is----" - -"Oh, I know! To have a baby!" she replied, with a forced smile. "But -you see, I think humanity useless, life not worth living. Still, I -don't commit suicide, so I suppose I do accept life. I admit that a -son would be a fine piece of work. I'd enter on it with enthusiasm, -with pride, if I were sure my son wouldn't turn out just a little -_bourgeois_ like us!" - -"He might make a fortune and be a useful member of society." - -"Nonsense! Dreams of a little _bourgeois_!" she said bitterly; "he -would be just as unhappy as we are!" - -"But I am happy!" protested Antonio. - -"If you are happy it shows you don't understand anything about -it, and so you are doubly unhappy," she said vehemently, her eyes -darkening disquietingly. - -"My dear, you're growing as crazy as your great writers." - -"There you are! the little _bourgeois_ who doesn't know what he is -talking about!" - -And so they went on, till Antonio looked at the clock and jumped up -with a start. - -"It's past the time! My love, if you had to go down to the office -every day I assure you these notions would never come into your head." - -He hurried to wash; and still busy with the towel, damp and fresh -with the cold water, he came back to kiss her. - -"You're as pink as a strawberry ice!" she said admiringly, and so -they made peace. - -With the coming on of the hot days Regina's nostalgia, nervousness -and melancholy increased. At night she tossed and turned, and -sometimes groaned softly. At last she confessed to Antonio that her -heart troubled her. - -"Palpitations for hours at a time till I can hardly breathe! It feels -as if my chest would burst and let my heart escape. It must be the -stairs. I never used to have palpitations!" - -Much alarmed, her husband wished to take her to a specialist, but -this she opposed. - -"It will go off the moment I get away," she said. - -They decided she must go at the end of June. Antonio would take his -holiday in August and join her, remaining at her mother's for a -fortnight. - -"After that, if we've any money left, we'll spend a few days at -Viareggio." - -Regina said neither yea nor nay. After the first seven months the -young couple had only 200 _lire_ in hand. This was barely enough for -the journey; Antonio, however, hoped to put by a little while his -wife was away. - -The days passed on; Rome was becoming depopulated, though the first -brief spell of heat had been followed by renewal of incessant and -tiresome rain. - -Antonio counted the days. - -"Another ten--another eight--and you'll be gone. What's to become of -me all alone for a month?" - -Such expressions irritated her. She wished neither to speak nor to -think of her departure. - -"Alone? Why need you be alone? You've got your mother and your -brothers!" - -"A wife is more than brothers, more than a mother." - -"But if I were to die? Suppose I fell ill and the doctors prescribed -a long stay in my home?" - -"That's impossible." - -"You talk like a child. Why is it impossible? It's very possible -indeed!" she said, still vexed; "whatever I say you think it -nonsense--a thing which can't happen. Why can't it happen? It's -enough to mention some things----" - -"But, Regina," he exclaimed, astonished, "what makes you so cross?" - -"Well, you just explain to me why it's impossible I should get ill? -Am I made of iron? The doctor might forbid me to climb stairs for a -while, and might tell me to live in the open air, in the country. If -he took that line where would you have me go unless to my home? Would -you forbid me to go there?" - -"On the contrary, I should be the first to recommend it. But it's not -the state of affairs at present. Oh! your palpitation? that will go -off. We must see about an Apartment on a lower floor--though, to say -truth, I've got to regard this little nest of ours with the greatest -affection. We're so cosy here!" he said, looking round lovingly. - -She did not reply, but stepped to the window and looked out. Her brow -clouded. What was the matter with her? Detestation of the little -dwelling where she felt more and more smothered? or irritation at her -husband's sentimentality? - -"This is Friday," she said presently; "I suppose I ought to go and -bid your Princess good-bye. When is she going away?" - -"Middle of July, I think. She's going to Carlsbad." - -"Well, let her go to the devil, and all the smart people with her!" - -"That's wicked! Aren't you going to the country yourself? Think -of all the folk who have to stay in the burning city, workmen in -factories, bakers at their ovens----" - -"Precisely what made me swear!" said Regina. - -Later she dressed and went to Madame Makuline's; not because she -wanted to see her, but in order to occupy the interminable summer -afternoon. - -She pinched her waist very tight, and put on a new blue dress with -many flounces and a long train; she knew she looked well in it and -far more fashionable than on her first arrival in Rome, but the -thought gave her little satisfaction. - -As she was passing the Costanzi she saw the yellow-faced gentleman -who strolled in the "Pussies' Garden." He was talking to a friend, -plump as himself with round, dull blue eyes, a restless little red -dog under his arm. Regina knew this personage also. He was an actor -who played important parts at the Costanzi. Regina fancied the two -men looked at her admiringly, and she coloured with satisfaction; -then suddenly conceived something blameworthy in her pleasure, -and felt angry with herself, as a few hours earlier she had been -angry with Antonio for "talking like a child." She arrived at the -Princess's in an aggressive humour, and came in with her head -very high. She did not speak to the servant nor even look at him, -remembering that he always received her husband and herself with a -familiarity not exactly disrespectful, but somehow humiliating. - -Madame Makuline's drawing-room, though its furs and its carpets had -been removed, was still very hot. Branches of lilac in the great -metal vases diffused an intense, pungent, almost poisonous fragrance. -Only two ladies had called; one of them was abusing Rome to Marianna, -and the girl, unusually ugly, in an absurd, low red dress, was -protesting ferociously and threatening to bite the slanderer. The -Princess listened, pale, cold, her heavy face immobile. Regina came -in, and at once Marianna rushed to meet her, crying-- - -"If _you_ are going to say horrid things, too, I shall go mad!" - -Regina sat down, elegantly, winding her train round her feet as she -had seen Miss Harris do; and, having learned the subject in dispute, -said with a malicious smile-- - -"Most certainly Rome is odious." - -"I'll have to scratch you!" cried Marianna; "and it will be a -thousand pities, for you're quite lovely to-day! Now you're blushing -and you look better still! Your hat's just like one I saw at -Buda-Pesth on a grand duchess." - -"Rome odious?" said the Princess, turning to Regina, who was still -smiling sarcastically; "that's not what you said a few days ago." - -"It's easy to change one's opinion." - -"Beg pardon?" - -"It's easy to change one's opinion," shouted Regina, irritated; -"besides, I said the other day that Rome was delightful for the -_rich_. It's altogether abominable for the poor. The poor man, at -Rome, is like a beggar before the shut door of a palace, a beggar -gnawing a bone----" - -"Which is occasionally snapped up by the rich man's dog," put in -Marianna. - -The other laughed nervously. - -"Just so!" she said. - -The Princess raised her little yellow eyes to Regina's face and -studied it for a moment, then turned to the lady at her side and -talked to her in German. Regina fancied Madame had meant her -to understand something by that look, something distressing, -disagreeable, humiliating; and her laughter ceased. - - * * * * * - - "_June 28, 1900._ - - "ANTONIO,-- - - "You will read this letter after I am gone, while you are - still sad. You will perhaps think it dictated by a passing - caprice. If you could only know how many days, how many - weeks, how many months even, I have thought it over, examined - it, tortured myself with it! If you knew how many and many - times I have tried to express in words what I am now going to - write to you! I have never found it possible to speak; some - tyrannous force has always prevented me from opening my heart - to you. I felt that by word of mouth we should never arrive - at understanding each other. Who knows whether, even now, - you can or will understand me! I fancied it would be easy - to explain in a letter; but now--now I feel how painful and - difficult it must be. I should have liked to wait till I was - _there_, at home, to write this letter to you; but I don't - want to put it off any longer, and above all I don't wish you - to think that outside influences, or the wishes of others, - have pushed me to this step. No, my best, dearest Antonio! - we two by ourselves, far from every strange and molesting - voice, we two, alone, shall decide our destiny. Hear me! I am - going to try and explain to you my whole thought as best I - can. Listen, Antonio! A few days ago I said, 'Suppose I were - to fall ill and the doctors were to order me to return to my - native air and to stay for a short time in my own country, - would you forbid me to obey?' And you ended by confessing - you would be the first to counsel obedience. Well, I am - really ill, of a moral sickness which consumes me worse than - any physical disorder; and I do need to return to my own - country and to remain there for some time. Oh, Antonio! my - adored, my friend, my brother, force yourself to understand - me; to read deep into these lines as if you were reading - my very soul! I love you. I married you for love; for that - unspeakable love born of dreams and enchantments which is - felt but once in a life. More than ever at this moment I feel - that I love you, and that I am united to you for my whole - life and for what is beyond. When you appeared to me _there_, - on the green river-banks, the line of which had cut like a - knife through the horizon of all my dreams, I saw in you - something radiant; I saw in you the very incarnation of my - most beautiful visions. How many years had I not dreamed of - you, waited for you! This delicious expectation was already - beginning to be shrouded in fear and sadness, was beginning - to seem altogether vague when you appeared! You were to me - the whole unknown world, the wondrous world which books, - dreams--heredity also--had created within me. You were the - burning, the fragrant, the intoxicating whirlwind of life; - you were everything my youth, my instinct, my soul, had - yearned for of maddest and sweetest. Even if you had been - ugly, fat, poorer than you are, I should have loved you. - You had come from Rome, you were returning to Rome--that - was enough! No one, neither you nor any one not born and - bred in provincial remoteness, can conceive what the most - paltry official from the capital--dropped by chance into - that remoteness--represents to an ignorant visionary girl. - How often here in Rome have I not watched the crowds in Via - Nazionale, and laughed bitterly while I thought that if the - lowest of those little citizens walking there, the meanest, - the most anćmic, the most contemptible of those little - clerks, one with an incomplete soul, dropped like an unripe - fruit, one of those who now move me only to pity, had passed - by on that river-bank before our house--he might have been - able to awaken in me an overwhelming passion! My whole soul - revolts at the mere thought. But do not you take offence, - Antonio! You are not one of _those_; you were and you are - for me something altogether _different_. And now, though the - enchantment of my vain dreams has dissolved, you are for me - something entirely beyond even those dreams. You were and - you are for me, the one man, the good loyal man, the lover, - young and dear, whom the girl places in the centre of all her - dreams--which he completes and adorns, dominating them as a - statue dominates a garden of flowers. - - "But our garden, Antonio, our garden is arid and melancholy. - We were as yet too poor to come together and to make a - garden. My eyes were blindfolded when I married you and came - with you to Rome; I fancied that in Rome our two little - incomes would represent as much as they represented in my - country. I have perceived, too late, that instead they are - hardly sufficient for our daily bread. And on bread alone one - cannot live. It means death, or at least grave sickness for - any one unused to such a diet. And love, no matter how great, - is not enough to cure the sick one! - - "Alas! as I repeat, I am sick! The shock of reality, the - hardness of that daily bread, has produced in me a sort - of moral anćmia; and the disease has become so acute that - I can't get on any longer. For me this life in Rome is a - martyrdom. It is absolute necessity that I should flee from - it for a time, retire into my den, as they say sick animals - do, and get cured--above all, get used to the thought, to the - duty, of spending my life like this. - - "Antonio! my Antonio! force yourself to understand me, even - if I don't succeed in expressing myself as I wish. Let me go - back to my nest, to my mother! I will tell her I am really - ill and in need of my native air. Leave me with her for a - year, or perhaps two. Let us do what we ought to have done in - the first instance, let us wait. Let us wait as a betrothed - couple waits for the hour of union. I will accustom myself - to the idea of a life different from what I had dreamed. - Meanwhile your position (and perhaps mine, too, who knows?) - will improve. Are there not many who do this? Why, my own - cousin did it! Her husband was a professor in the Gymnasium - at Milan. Together they could not have managed. But she went - back home, and he studied and tried for a better berth, and - presently became professor at the Lyceum in another town. - Then they were re-united, and now they're as happy as can be. - - "'But,' you will say, 'we _can_ live together. We have no - lack of anything.' - - "'True,' I repeat, 'we don't lack for bread; but one cannot - live by bread alone,' Do you remember the evening when I - asked you whether from our habitation you could see the - Great Bear? You laughed at me and said I was crazy; and who - knows! perhaps I am really mad! But I know my madness is of a - kind which can be cured; and that is all I want, just to be - cured--to be cured before the disease grows worse. - - "Listen, Antonio! You also, unintentionally I know, but - certainly, have been in the wrong. You did not mean it; it's - Fate which has been playing with us! In the sweet evenings - of our engagement, when I talked to you of Rome with a - tremble in my voice, you ought to have seen I was the dupe - of foolish fancies. You ought to have discerned my vain and - splendid dream through my words, as one discerns the moon - through the evening mist. But instead you fed my dream; you - talked of princesses, drawing-rooms, receptions! And when we - arrived in Rome, you should have taken me at once to our own - little home; you shouldn't have put between us for weeks and - months persons dear, of course, to you, but total strangers - to me. They were kind to me, I know, and are so still; I did - my best to love them, but it was impossible to have communion - of spirit with them all at once. Above all, you ought to - have kept me away from that world of the rich of which I had - dreamed, which is not and never will be mine. - - "Do you see? It's as if I had touched the fire and something - had been burned in me. Is it my fault? If I am in fault it's - because I am not able to pretend. Another woman in my place, - feeling as I feel, would pretend, would apparently accept - the reality, would remain with you; but--would poison your - whole existence! Even I, you remember, I in the first months - worried you with my sadness, my complaints, my contempt. I - knew how wrong I was, I was ashamed and remorseful. If we had - gone on like that, if the idea which I am broaching now had - not flashed into my mind, we should have ended as so many - end; bickering to-day, scandal to-morrow; crime, perhaps, - in the end. I felt a vortex round me. It is not that I am - romantic; I am sceptical rather than romantic; but everything - small, sordid, vulgar, wounds my soul. I am like a sick - person, who at the least annoyance becomes selfish, loses - all conscience, and is capable of any bad action. Again I - say, is it my fault? I was born like that and I can't re-make - myself. There are many women like me, some of them worse - because weaker. They don't know how to stop in time, on the - edge of the precipice; they neither see, nor study how to - avoid it. And yet, Antonio, I do care for you! I love you - more, much more than when we were betrothed. I love you most - passionately. It is chiefly on this account that I make the - sacrifice of exiling myself from you for a while. I don't - want to cause you unhappiness! Tears are bathing my face, my - whole heart bleeds. But it is necessary, it is fate, that we - separate! It kills me thinking of it, but it's necessary, - necessary! Dear, dear, dear Antonio! understand me. Beloved - Antonio, read and re-read my words, and don't give them a - different signification from what is given by my heart. Above - all, hear me as if I were lying on your breast, weeping there - all my tears. Hear and understand as sometimes you have heard - and understood. Do you remember Christmas morning? I was - crying, and I fancied I saw your eyes clouded too: it was - at that moment I realised that I loved you above everything - in all the world, and I decided then to make some sacrifice - for you. This is the sacrifice; to leave you for a while in - the endeavour to get cured and to come back to you restored - and content. Then in my little home I will live for you; and - I will work; yes, I also will bring my stone to the edifice - of our future well-being. We are young, still too young; we - can do a great deal if we really wish it. Neither of us have - any doubts of the other; you are sure of me; I also am sure - of you. I know how you love me, and that you love me just - because I am what I am. - - "Listen; after two or three weeks you shall come to my - mother's as we have arranged. You must pretend to find me - still so unwell that you decide to leave me till I am better. - Then you shall return to Rome and live thinking of me. - You shall study, compete for some better post. The months - will pass, we will write to each other every day, we will - economise--or, what is better, accumulate treasures--of love - and of money. Our position will improve, and when we come - together again we shall begin a new honeymoon, very different - from the first, and it shall last for the whole of our life." - -Having reached this point in her letter, Regina felt quite frozen -up, as if a blast of icy wind had struck her shoulders. This she was -writing--was it not all illusion? all a lie? Words! Words! Who could -know how the future would be made? The word _made_ came spontaneously -into her thought, and she was struck by it. Who makes the future? No -one. We make it ourselves by our present. - -"I shall make my future with this letter, only not even I can know -what future I shall make." - -Regina felt afraid of this obscure work; then suddenly she cheered, -remembering that all she had written in the letter was really there -in her heart. Illusion it might be, but for her it was truth. Then, -come what might, why should she be afraid? Life is for those who have -the courage to carry out their own ideas! - -It seemed needless to prolong the letter. She had already said too -many useless things, perhaps without succeeding in the expression -of what was really whirling in her soul. She rapidly set down a few -concluding lines. - - "Write to me at once when you have read this--no, not at - once! let a few hours pass first. There is much more I - should like to say, but I cannot, my heart is too full, I - am in too great suffering. Forgive me, Antonio, if I cause - you pain at the moment in which you read this; out of that - pain there will be born great joy. Reassure me by telling - me you understand and approve my idea. Far away _there_ I - shall recover all we have lost in the wretched experience of - these last months. I will await your letter as one awaits a - sentence; then I will write to you again. I will tell you, or - try to tell you, all which now swells my heart to bursting. - Good-bye--till we meet again. See! I am already crying at - the thought of the kiss which I shall give you before I go. - God only knows the anguish, the love, the promise, the hope, - which that kiss will contain. - - "Whatever you shall think of me, Antonio, at least do not - accuse me of lightness. Remember that I am your own Regina; - your sick, your strange, but not your disloyal and wicked. - - "REGINA." - -The letter ended, she folded and shut it hurriedly without reading it -over. Then she felt qualms; some little word might have escaped her; -some little particle which might change the whole sense of a phrase. -She reopened the envelope, read with apprehension and distaste, but -corrected nothing, added nothing. Her grief was agonising. Ah! how -cold, how badly expressed, was that letter! Into its lifeless pages -had passed nothing of all which was seething in her heart! - -"And I was imagining I could write a novel--a play! I, who am -incapable of writing even a letter! But he will understand," she -thought, shutting the letter a second time, "I am quite sure he will -understand! Now where am I to put it? Suppose he were to find it -before I am off? Whatever would happen? He would laugh; but if he -finds it afterwards--he will perhaps cry. Ah! that's it, I'll lay it -on his little table just before I go." - -With these and other trivial thoughts, with little hesitations which -she had already considered and resolved, she tried to banish the -sadness and anxiety which were agitating her. - -She pulled out her trunks, for she was to start next morning by the -nine o'clock express, and she had not yet packed a thing. The whole -long afternoon had gone by while she was writing. - -"What will he do?" she kept thinking; "will he keep on the Apartment? -And the maid? Will he betray me? No, he won't betray me. I'm sure -of that. I'll suggest he should go back to his mother and brothers. -So long as they don't poison his mind against me! Perhaps he'll let -the rooms furnished. How much would he get for them? 100 _lire_? But -no! he's sentimental about them. He wouldn't like strangers, vulgar -creatures perhaps, to come and profane our nest, as he calls it. And -shouldn't I hate it myself? Folly! Nonsense! I have suffered so much -here that the furniture, these two carpets with the yellow dogs on -them, are odious to me. I never wish to see any of the things again! -And yet----Come, Regina! you're a fool, a fool, a fool! But what will -he do with my _trousseau_ things? Will he take them to his mother's? -Well, what do I care? Let him settle it as he likes." - -Every now and again she was assailed by a thought that had often -worried her before. If he were not to forgive? In that case how was -their story going to end? But no! Nonsense! It was impossible he -should not forgive! At the worst he would come after her to persuade -or force her to return. She would resist and convince him. Already -she imagined that scene, lived through it. Already she felt the pain -of the second parting. Meanwhile she had filled her trunk, but was -not at all satisfied with her work. What a horrid, idiotic thing life -was! Farewells, and always farewells, until the final farewell of -death. - -"Death! Since we all have to die," she thought, emptying the trunk -and rearranging it, "why do we subject ourselves to so much needless -annoyance? Why, for instance, am I going away? Well, the time will -pass all the same. It's just because one has to die that one must -spend one's life as well as one can. A year or two will soon go over, -but thirty or forty years are very long. And in two years----Well," -she continued, folding and refolding a dress which would not lie flat -in the tray, "is it true that in two years our circumstances will -have improved? Shall I be happier? Shall I not begin this same life -over again--will it not go on for ever and ever to the very end? To -die--to go away----Well, for that journey I shan't anyhow have the -bother of doing up this detestable portmanteau; There!" (and she -snatched up the dress in a fury and flung it away), "why won't even -_you_ get yourself folded the way I want? Come, what's the good of -taking you at all? There won't be any one to dress for _there_!" - -She threw herself on the bed and burst into tears. She realised for -the moment the absurdity, the _naughtiness_ of her caprice. She -repeated that it was all a lie; what she wanted was just to annoy her -husband, out of natural malice, out of a childish desire for revenge. - -But after a minute she got up, dried her eyes, and soberly refolded -the dress. - -When Antonio came in he found her still busy with the luggage. - -"Help me to shut it," said Regina, and while he bent over the lock, -which was a little out of order, she added-- - -"Suppose there's a railway accident, and I get killed?" - -"Let's hope not," he replied absently. - -"Or suppose I am awfully hurt? Suppose I am taken to some hospital -and have to remain there a long time?" - -This time he made no reply at all. - -"Do say something! What would you do?" - -"Why on earth are you always thinking of such things? If you have -these fancies why are you going away? There! It's locked. Where are -the straps?" he asked, getting up. - -She looked at him as he stood before her, so tall, so handsome, so -upright, his eyes brilliant in the rosy sunset light. - -"To-morrow we shall be far apart!" she cried, flinging herself on his -neck and kissing him deliriously; "you will be true to me! Say you -will be true to me! Oh, God! if we should never see each other again!" - -"You do love me, then?" - -"So much--so much----" - -He saw her turn pale and tremble, and he pressed her to him, losing -all consciousness of himself, overwhelmed by the pleasure and the -passion which intoxicated him each time Regina showed him any -tenderness. - -They kissed each other, and their kisses had a warmth, a bitterness, -an occult savour of anguish, which produced a sense of ineffable -voluptuousness. Regina wept; Antonio said senseless things and -implored her not to leave him. - -Then they both laughed. - -"After all you aren't going to the North Pole," said Antonio. "I -declare you are really crying! Pooh! a month will soon pass. And I'll -come very soon. At this hour we'll go out together in a boat, when -the Po is all rosy----" - -"If there isn't a railway accident!" she said bitterly. "Well! here -are the straps. Pull them as tight as you can." - - - - - PART II - - - - - CHAPTER I - - -The crazy little carriage belonging to Petrin il Gliglo rattled -along by the river-side towards Viadana. Regina was seated, not -particularly comfortably, between her brother and sister, who had -come to meet her at Casalmaggiore station. She laughed and talked, -but now and then fell silent, absent-minded, and sad. Then Toscana -and Gigino, being slightly in awe of her, became also silent and -embarrassed. - -The night was hot; the sky opaque blue, furrowed by long grey clouds. -The big red moon, just risen above the horizon, illumined the river -and the motionless woods with a splendour suggestive of far-off fire. -The immense silence was now and then broken by distant voices from -across the Po; a sharp damp odour of grass flooded the air, waking in -Regina a train of melancholy associations. - -Now she had arrived, now she was in the place of her nostalgia, in -the dreamed-of harbour of refuge, it was strange that her soul was -still lost to her. Just as at one time she had seemed to herself -to have taken only her outward person to Rome, leaving her soul -like a wandering firefly on the banks of the Po, so now it was -only her suffering and tired body which she had brought back to -the river-side. Her soul had escaped--flown back to Rome. What was -Antonio doing at this hour? Was he very miserable? Was he conscious -of his wife's soul pressing him tighter than ever her arms had -pressed him? Had he written to her? Antonio! Antonio! Burning tears -filled her eyes, and she suddenly fell silent, her thoughts wandering -and lost in a sorrowful far-away. - -She had already repented her letter, or at least of having written it -so soon. She could have sent it quite well from here! He would have -felt it less--so she told herself, trying to disguise her remorse. - -"And the Master? And Gabri and Gabrie?" she asked aloud, as they -passed Fossa Caprara, whose little white church, flushed by the -moon, stood up clearly against the blackness of the meadow-side -plane-trees. At the other side of the road was a row of silver -willows, and between them the river glistened like antique, lightly -oxidised glass. The whole scene suggested a picture by Baratta. - -Toscana and Gigi both broke into stifled laughter. - -"What's the matter?" queried Regina. - -The boy controlled himself, but Toscana laughed louder. - -"Whatever is it? Is the Master going to be married?" - -"_Lu el vorres, se, ma li doni li nal veul mia, corpu dla madosca_ -(He'd be willing enough, but the women won't have him)," said Petrin, -turning a little and joining in the "children's" talk. - -"They want to go to--to Rome! Gabri and Gabrie!" said Toscana at -last, and her brother again burst out laughing. - -"Why do they want to go to Rome?" - -"Gabri wants to get a place and to help Gabrie in her studies, as she -intends to be a Professor----" - -"Ah! Ah! Ah!" - -Then they laughed, all four, and Regina forgot her troubles. The -boy and girl thought of going to Rome, as they thought of going to -Viadana, without help and without money! It was amusing. - -"And what does the Master say?" - -"He's mad!" interrupted Petrin, turning his face, which was round and -red like the moon. "_El diss, chi vaga magari a pe: i dventarŕ na -gran roba_ (He says let them go if it's even on foot! they'll turn -out great!)." - -Then Gigi mimicked Gabri, who talked through his nose:-- - -"We could go to Milan, of course, but there's no university there -which admits women, like the universities of Florence and Rome. Rome -is the capital of Italy; we'll go there. I'll be a printer, and -Gabrie shall study." - -And Toscana mimicked Gabrie:-- - -"My brother shall print all my books." - -"My dear children, I think you are jealous," said Regina. - -"Oh!" they cried, cut to the quick, for Gigi did verily want to -go to Rome for his college course, and Toscana, who had a pretty -mezzo-soprano voice, had a plan of living at her sister's to learn -singing. - -Regina became thoughtful, guessing their own and their friends' -dreams, and remembering her own earlier illusions. She vainly sought -to shake off the sadness, the remorse, the presentiment of evil, -which was weighing her down. - -"And you, Petrin, I suppose you want to go to Rome too? Couldn't you -bring Gabri and Gabrie in this chaise?" - -"I'm going to Paris," the man answered, stolidly. - -"To be sure! I remember you thought of it last year. You said you had -enough money." - -"So I have still. I can't spend it here, and my uncle in Paris keeps -writing 'Come! Come!'" - -Regina was not listening. She was caught up in a pleasure, expected -indeed, which yet took her by surprise, soothing her sick heart as a -balsam soothes a wound. For there, in the hollow behind the row of -black trees bordering the _viassolin_ (lane), was the little white -house, a lamp shining from its window! Already she heard the scraping -voice of the frogs, which croaked in the ditch beside the lane. -Shadows of two persons were spread across the road, and a soprano -voice resounded in a prolonged call, like the shout of a would-be -passenger to the ferryman on the opposite bank of the river-- - -"Regina--a--a----" - -"It's that fool Adamo," said Gigi; "he's always calling you like -that. He says you ought to hear him in Rome. She shouts, too," he -added, pinching Toscana's knee. - -"And so do you," said Toscana. - -The voice rang out again, sent back by the water, echoing to the -farther shore. Regina jumped from the carriage, and ran towards -the two dear shadows. One of them separated itself from the other -and rushed madly. It was the boy, and he fell upon Regina like a -thunderbolt, hugging her, squeezing her tightly, even pretending to -roll her into the river. - -"Adamo! Are you gone mad?" she cried, resisting him. "Do you want to -break my bones?" - -Then Adamo, whose great dark eyes were brilliant in the moonlight, -remembered Regina had written something about being ill, and he too -became suddenly shy of her. - -"How you've grown!" she exclaimed. "Why, you're two inches taller -than I am!" - -"Ill weeds grow apace," said Gigino. Then Adamo, who for fifteen was -really a giant, gave Toscana a push _en passant_, and sprang upon -his brother, trying to roll him down the bank. Shouts of laughter, -exclamations, a perfect explosion of fun and childish thoughtlessness -filled the perfumed silence. Regina left the children to forget her -in this rough amusement, and hurried on to her mother. - -They embraced without a word; then Signora Tagliamari asked for -Antonio. - -"I thought he would have come to take care of you!" she said. -"Frankly now, how are you getting on together? You haven't had any -little difference----" - -"Oh dear no!" cried Regina. "I told you he couldn't get away just -now. I've been bothered with a lot of palpitation--we've more than -a hundred steps, you know. Fancy having to climb a hundred steps -three or four times every day! Antonio got anxious and took me to a -specialist--an extortioner--who demanded ten _lire_ for just putting -a little black cup against my chest! 'Native air,' he said; 'a few -months of her native air!' But now I'm all right again. It's almost -gone off. I'll stay for a month, or two months at the outside. Then -Antonio will come for me----" - -Mother and daughter talked in dialect, and looked each other fixedly -in the face. The moon, white now and high in the heavens from which -the clouds had cleared, illumined their brows. Signora Caterina, not -yet forty-five years of age, was so like Regina that she seemed her -elder sister. Her complexion was even fresher, and she had great -innocent eyes, more peaceful than her daughter's. Regina, however, -thought her much aged, and her black dress with sleeves puffed on the -shoulders, which a year ago she had believed very smart, now seemed -absurdly antiquated. - -"He's coming to fetch you?" repeated the mother; "that's all right." - -Regina's heart tightened. Would Antonio really come? Suppose he were -mortally offended and refused to come? But no--no--she would not even -fancy it! - -Before traversing the short footpath which led between hedges to -the villa, she stood to contemplate the beautiful river landscape -bathed in moonlight. A veil seemed to have been lifted. Everything -now was clear and pure; the air had become fresh and transparent as -crystal. The dark green of the grass contrasted with the grey-green -of the willows; the ditches reflected the moon and the light trunks -of the poplar-trees, whose silver leaves were like lace on the velvet -background of the sky. The house, small to her who was returning from -the city of enormous buildings, was white against the green of the -meadows. Round it the vines festooned from tree to tree, following -each other, interlacing with each other, as in some silent nocturnal -dance. The great landscape, surrounding and encompassing like the -high seas seen from a moving ship, the wide river, familiar from her -childhood, with its little fantastic islands, shut in by the solemn -outline of the woods, by the far-reaching background, where a few -white towers gleamed faintly through the lunar mist, relieved and -expanded Regina's soul by pure immensity. - -Swarms of fireflies flashed like little shooting stars; the mills -made pleasant music; the freshness and sweetness of running water -vivified the air; all was peace, transparence, purity. Yet Regina -felt some subtle change even in the serenity of the great landscape, -as she felt it in the countenance of her mother, in the manners of -her brothers and sister. No, the landscape was no longer _that_; the -dear people were no longer _those_. Who, what had changed them thus? -She descended the little path, and the frogs redoubled their croaks -as if saluting her passage. She remembered the damp and foggy morning -in which she had gone away with Antonio. Then all around was cloud, -but a great light shone in her soul; now all was brilliant--the -heaven, the stream, the fireflies, the blades of grass, the water in -the ditches--but the gloom was dark within herself. - -Another minute, and she was inside the house. Alas! it also was -changed! The rooms were naked and unadorned. Dear! how small -and shabby was Baratta's picture over the chimneypiece in the -dining-parlour! It was no longer _that one_! - -They sat down to supper, which was lively and noisy enough. Then -Regina went out again, and, in spite of the fatigue which stiffened -her limbs, she walked a long way by the river-side. Adamo and her -sister were with her, but she felt alone, quite alone and very sad. -_He_ was far away, and his presence was wanted to fill the wondrous -solitude of that pure and luminous night. What was he doing? Even in -Rome at the end of June the nights are sweet and suggestive. Regina -thought of the evening walks with Antonio, through wide and lonely -streets near the Villa Ludovisi. The moon would be rising above the -tree tops, and sometimes Antonio would take his inattentive wife in -by saying-- - -"How high up that electric light is!" - -The fragrance of the gardens mixed with the scent of hay carted in -from the Campagna, and the tinkle of a mandoline, moved the heart of -the homesick Regina. Yes; even at Rome the nights had been delicious -before the great heat had come, when already many of the people had -gone away. Now she too had gone, and who could know if she would -return? Who could tell if Antonio would want her ever again! Lost -in this gnawing fear, she suddenly started and checked her steps. -There, on the edge of the bank, abandoned in the lush grass, was that -despised old millstone, which so often had stood before her eyes in -her attacks of Nostalgia. Now she saw it in reality, and she noticed -for the first time that it lay just exactly where a little track -started, leading to the river through a grove of young willows and -acacias. One evening, last autumn, standing on that little sandy path -in the rosy shadow of the thicket, Antonio had sung her the song "The -Pearl Fishers," and presently they had exchanged their first kiss. -Now still she heard his voice vibrating in her soul. - - "_Mi par d'udire ancora._" - (Still meseems I hear thee.) - -And now she understood why she had always remembered the old stone. -It would have meant nothing to her if it had not lain exactly at -that spot, on that little tree-shadowed pathway, which was full of -memories of him. - -She stepped down it, standing for a minute among the willows, -which had grown immensely, then approaching the water, now all -bluish-white, gleaming under the moon. But the Po had made a new -island, as soft and frothy as a chocolate cream, and even the -river-side seemed to her changed. - -Adamo and Toscana descended also to the water's edge, and the girl -began to sing. Her voice trembled in the moonlit silence like the -gurgle of a nightingale. Why she knew not, but Regina remembered the -first evening at the Princess's and the voice of the elderly lady who -had sung - - "_A te, cara._" - -How far off was that world! So far that perhaps she might -never--never enter it again! - -Ah! well! that mattered nothing! In this moonlight hour, in face of -the purity of the river and of her native landscape, she seemed to -have awakened from some pernicious intoxicating dream. Yet she was -tormented by the doubt, the fear, that never again would she see the -personages of her fevered dream, because never would Antonio come -to lead her back into that far-off world. The days would pass, the -months, the years. He would never come. Never! not after the three -years of her suggesting, nor after ten, nor after twenty! How was it -she had not thought of this when she had secretly planned her flight, -even as a bird schemes to leave its cage without considering the -perils to which it must expose itself? How could she help it? Which -of us knows what we shall think or feel to-morrow? She had been -dreaming; she was dreaming still. Even her increased terror, her fear -that Antonio would forget her, was perhaps no more than a dreadful -dream. But--if her dread should prove reality---- - -"What would become of me?" she thought, seemingly fascinated by the -splendour of the running water. "There is no longer any place for me -here. Everything is changed; everything seems to mistrust me. I have -been a traitor to my old world, and now it pushes me from it! And -I--I did not foresee that!" - -"Come! Let us go!" she said, shaking herself and returning to the -main path. She walked along, her head drooping, thinking she was -surely mistaken. Her old world could not betray her! It was too old -to be guilty of any such crime! - -"Life is certainly quite different here, but I'll get used to -it again. To-morrow, by daylight, when I am rested, I shall see -everything in its old sweet aspect!" - -For the present she dared not raise her eyes, lest she should see -the willow which had protected their first kiss. She hurried past, -fearful of an unforgettable spectre. - -Toscana followed her singing, while Adamo, whose figure showed like -a black spot on the glistening enamel of the water, amused himself -shouting-- - -"Antonio--o--o. Antonio--o--o." - -The sonorous tones echoed back from the river, and Regina hastened -her steps lest her sister should see her scalding tears. - -Ah! _He_ made no response. Never again would he answer, never again! - - * * * * * - -But the next morning's sun dispersed Regina's childish fears, her -anxiety, and her remorse. - -"I shall hear from him to-day or to-morrow," she thought, waking -in her old room, the window of which gave on the river. A swallow, -which was used to come in and roost on the blind rod, flew round -the room and pecked at the shut window. Regina jumped out of bed -and opened it. The sight of the swallow had filled her heart with -sudden joy, which increased at sight of the smiling landscape. -Irresistibly impelled, she left the house and wandered through the -fields, refreshing her spirit in the intoxicating bath of greenness -and morning sun and lingering dew. She followed little grassy paths, -at the entrance to which tall poplars reared their white stems like -gigantic columns, their tops blending into one shimmering roof. She -passed along the ditches populated by families of peaceful ducks; -the little snails crept along, leaving their silvery tracks upon the -grass; woodpeckers concealed in the poplars marked time with their -beaks in the serenity of space and solitude. - -As in the moonlit evening, so now in the sunshine, every blade of -grass, every leaf, every little stone, sparkled and shone. The -river rolled on its majestic course, furrowed by paths of gold, -flecked here and there by pearly whirlpools. The islands, covered -with evanescent vegetation, with the lace of trembling foliage, -divided the splendours of the water and of the sky. Spring was -still luxuriant over the immensity of the plain--spring strong as a -giantess, kissed by her lover the river, decked by the thousand hands -of the husbandmen, her slaves. - -But when she was tired Regina threw herself upon the clover, still -wet with dewdrops, and at once her thoughts flew far away. In the -afternoon she began again to feel anxious and sad. - -That very day visits began from inquisitive, tiresome, interested -people--relations, friends, persons who wanted favours. They all -imagined Regina influential to obtain anything, just because she -lived in Rome. She was amused at first, but presently she wearied. -All these people who came to greet and to flatter her seemed to have -changed, to have grown older, simpler, less significant, than she had -left them. - -The Master himself came, with Gabriella, a small fair-haired -creature, with pale, round face, and steely eyes, very bright, very -deep, very observant. - -"And so here is our Regina!" said the Master, buttoning his coat -across his narrow chest. "Oh, _bravissima_! I got the postcard with -the picture of the Colosseum. That really is a monument! Oh, _brava_, -our Regina! I suppose you have visited all the monuments, both pagan -and Christian? And seen the works of Michaelangelo Buonarotti? Oh, -Rome! Rome! Yes, I wish my two children could get to the eternal -Rome." - -"Papa!" said Gabrie, watching Regina to see if she were laughing at -him. - -But Regina was merely cold and indifferent--an attitude which -relieved but slightly intimidated the future lady-professor. A little -later came a young lady of a titled family from Sabbioneta. She had -a lovely slender figure, and was very pale, with black hair dressed -_ŕ la_ Botticelli; she was smart also, wearing white gloves and tan -shoes with very high heels. - -Toscana, Gabrie and this young lady were all the same age--about -eighteen--clever and unripe, like all school-girls. They were -nominally friends. Regina, however, saw they envied and nearly hated -each other. The aristocratic damsel gave herself airs, and spoke -impertinences with much grace. - -"Good gracious! What heels!" said Gabrie, whom nothing escaped. "But -they're quite out of fashion!" - -"They're always in fashion among the nobility," explained the other, -condescendingly. Then they talked of a little scandal which had -arisen the day before, in consequence of two Sabbioneta ladies having -quarrelled in the street. - -"Wives of clerks!" said the Signorina, contemptuously. "Women of the -upper aristocracy would never behave like that!" - -"But," said Regina, "where have you known any women of the upper -aristocracy?" - -"Oh! one meets them everywhere!" - -"Look here, my dear; if you were to find yourself beside a lady of -the upper aristocracy, and if she deigned to look at you at all, you -would be frozen with humiliation and alarm." - -The other girls giggled, and the Master asked eagerly-- - -"Regina, I wonder do you know the Duchess Colonna of San Pietro?" - -"_Chi lo sa?_ There are no end of duchesses in Rome!" - -"We have an introduction to that great lady from a friend of ours at -Parma." - -"Papa!" cried Gabrie, red with indignation and pride, "I don't -require any introductions! I snap my fingers at great ladies one and -all! What could they possibly do for me?" - -"My dear child," began Regina, pitying and sarcastic, "great ladies -rule the world; and so----" - -She stopped and turned pale, for there was a loud knock at the door. -She fancied it the bicycling postman, who brought telegrams to the -villages between Casalmaggiore and Viadana. But no; it was not he. - -Evening fell--red and splendid as a conflagration. The three girls -went out, and Regina lingered at the window, scrutinising the -distance and looking for the telegraph messenger's bicycle. - -The Master and Signora Tagliamari sat on a blue Louis XV sofa at the -end of the room, and talked quietly. Now and then they threw a glance -at Regina, who scarcely tried to conceal her sadness and disquiet. -The Master, hoping she was listening, talked of the dreams and -ambitions of his children. - -"Well, as they wish it, we must let them work and conquer the world. -What can they do here? Be a school-master? A school-mistress? No, -thank you!" - -"But if they go away, won't you miss them very much?" - -"That's not the question, Signora Caterina! It's like a tearing out -of the vitals when the young ones leave the parents. But the parents -have brought them into the world to see them live, not vegetate. Ah, -my children!" said the Master, stretching out his arms with great -emotion, "the nest will remain empty and the old father will end his -days in sorrow as, in truth, he began them; but in his heart, Signora -Caterina, in his heart he will say with great joy, 'I have done my -duty. I have taught my little ones to fly!' Oh, that my parents had -done as much for me. Ah!" - -Regina still looked out. She heard the Master's babble; she heard -the fresh voices and the laughter of the three young girls who were -strolling along the river; she watched the sky grow pale, diaphanous, -tender green like some delicate crystal, flecked with little -wandering clouds like a flight of violet-grey birds. She began to -feel irritated. She knew not why. Perhaps because the girls made too -much noise, or the Master was talking nonsense, or the postman did -not appear out of the lonely distance. - -The Master pulled a note-book from his pocket, and, interrupting -himself now and then to explain that he did it without his daughter's -knowledge, began to read aloud some of Gabrie's sketches. - -"Listen to this! See how cleverly she observes people! It's a -character for a future novel. My Gabrie is always on the look-out. -She sees a character, observes, sets it all down. She's like those -careful housewives who preserve everything in case it may come in -useful. Listen to this!" - -And he read: "'A young lady of eighteen, of titled but worn-out -family, anćmic, insincere, vain, envious, ambitious; knows how to -hide her faults under a cold sweetness which appears natural. She -is always talking of the aristocracy. Some one once told her she -resembled a Virgin of Botticelli's, and ever since she has adopted a -pose of sentiment and ecstasy.' Isn't it excellent, Signora Caterina?" - -"Yes, indeed; quite excellent!" said the lady, with gentle -acquiescence. "Regina, come and listen. Hear how Gabrie is going to -write her novel. It's quite excellent." - -Regina remembered the novel she also had wished to write, with which -she was quite out of tune to-day. Her irritation increased. She had -recognised the _signorina_ from Sabbioneta in Gabrie's sketch, and -resented the pretensions, the ambitions, the dreams of the Master's -little daughter. The simple father's delusions were pitiable. Better -tear them away and bid him teach his child to make herself a real -life, refusing to send her forth into the world where the poor are -swallowed up like straws in the pearly whirlpools of the river. - -But in the faded eyes of the humble school-master she saw such glow -of tenderness, of regret, of dream, that she had not the heart to rob -him of his only wealth--Illusion. - -"It's so dreadful to have no more illusions," she said to herself, -and added that to-day there would come no telegram from Antonio. - -As evening came on she again fell a prey to puerile terrors and -unwholesome thoughts. She was wrapped in frozen shadows--a mysterious -wind drove her towards a glacial atmosphere, where all was dizziness -and grief. She seemed suspended thus in a twilight heaven, wafted -towards an unknown land, like the little wandering clouds, the -violet-grey birds, migrating without hope of rest. The old world -to which she had returned had become small, melancholy, tiresome. -She was no longer at her ease in it. But at last she was driven -to confess a melancholy thing. It was not her old world which had -changed; oh no! it was herself. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - -That night she dreamed she was standing on the river-bank in the -company of Marianna, Madame Makuline's companion, who had come to -hurry her back to Rome. - -"Monsieur Antonio is in an awful rage," she said. "He came to Madame -and told her all about it, and has borrowed 10,000 _lire_ to set up a -finer house. Then he sent me to bring you back." - -In her dream Regina shook with shame and anger. She set off with -rapid steps to Viadana, intending to send Antonio a thundering -telegram. - -"If he has still got the money," she sobbed, "I wish him to give it -all back this very moment. I don't want a finer house. I don't want -anything! I'll come home at once. I'd come back, even if we had grown -poorer, even if we had to live in a garret!" - -And she walked and walked, as one walks in dreams, vainly trying -to run, crushed by unspeakable grief. Night fell; the mist covered -the river. Viadana seemed farther and farther. Marianna ran behind -Regina, telling her that the day before in Via Tritone she had met -the ugly fireman who had rescued her at Odessa. - -"He had turned into a priest, if you please; but coquettish, and -under his cassock he had a silk petticoat with three flounces, which -made a _frou-frou_." And she laughed. - -Her unpleasant expression exasperated Regina almost to fits. She -was not laughing at the fireman, but at something else, unknown, -mysterious and terrible. Suddenly Regina turned and tried to strike -her, but the _signorina_ started backwards and Regina tumbled down. - -The shock of this fall wakened the dreamer, whose first conscious -thought was of the fireman priest with the silk flounces. In the -dream this detail had disgusted her horribly, and the disgust -remained for long hours. Sleep had deserted her. It was still night, -but already across the deep silence which precedes the dawn came the -earliest sounds of the quiet country life--a tinkling of tiny bells -trembling on the banks of the streams, going always farther and -farther away. The silvery, insistent, childish note seemed to Regina -the voice of infinite melancholy. - -A thousand memories started up in her mind, insistent, puerile, -melancholy, like that little silvery tinkling. - -"My whole life has been useless," she thought, "and now, now, just -when I might have found an object, I have flung it away like a rag! -But what object could I have had?" she asked herself presently. -"Well, family life is supposed to be an object. Everything is -relative. The good wife who makes a good family contributes no less -than the worker or the moralist to the perfection of society. I -have never made anything but dreams. I remember the dream I had the -second night after our arrival. I thought Madame Makuline had given -me a castle." - -Just then she heard a faint rustle, and something like a scarce -perceptible but tender groan emitted by some minute dreaming creature. - -"It's the swallow! Does it also dream? Do birds think and dream? I -expect they do. Why, I wonder, is this one all alone? And _he_!" - -She felt a sudden movement of joy, thinking that this day the letter -from Antonio would surely come! - -The hours passed. Post hour came, but there was no post. Regina -went out of doors to hide her agitation, to forget, to flee from -the extravagant fears which assailed her. As on the preceding day, -she wandered in the woods and lanes, by the river-side, upon which -beat the full rays of the sun. Everywhere fear followed her like her -shadow. - -"He has not forgiven me. He will not write. In his place I would do -the same. He wants to punish me by his silence, or he is coming to -take me back by force. A wife has to follow her husband, otherwise -he can demand a legal separation. What would become of me if he did -that?" - -Pride would not allow her to confess that if Antonio insisted on her -return she would go to him at once merely to be forgiven. But as the -slow hours rolled on her pride weakened. Memory assailed her with -consuming tenderness. She sickened at the thought of passing her -life's best years deprived of love. - -"Oh, why didn't I think of all this before?" she asked herself. And -she remembered she had thought of it, but so vaguely, so lightly, -that her faint fears had not held her back from folly. In an -opposing sense she reasoned thus. - -"It's my character made up of discontent and contradiction which -tosses me hither and thither like a wave of the sea. Why have I -changed so soon? If I go back to Rome I shall be sorry immediately -that I didn't carry out my project, which is perhaps better than I am -now thinking it. Perhaps after all he thinks it reasonable, and is -delaying to write that I may see he accepts it. Oh! there's a bit of -four-leaved clover! Yes; that's what it is. He accepts my plan." - -She stooped, but did not pick the four-leaved clover. What luck could -it bring to her? - -She felt hurt and saddened by the idea that Antonio was not -broken-hearted; that he would not try by all means in his power to -get her back; would not reproach, punish, coax her, move her to -agonies of despair and love. - -"He has not written. He isn't going to write," she said again. "He -will come himself to-morrow, or the next day, at the first moment he -can. What shall I say when I see him?" - -And in the joy of renewed confidence she forgot everything else. - - * * * * * - -He neither wrote nor came. The days went by; the slow, cruel hours -passed in a waiting increasingly apprehensive. Regina wondered at the -presentiment she had felt from the very moment of her arrival--the -presentiment that her husband would write to her no more. Yet still -she waited. - -She perceived that her mother, observant of Antonio's silence, was -watching her with those beautiful serene eyes now disturbed and -unquiet. So one morning she feigned to have met the postman and -brought back a letter. She came into the house, an envelope in her -hand, crying-- - -"He's not well! He's laid up with fever!" - -The mother was opening a silvery fish from the Po, and she looked at -her daughter, scarcely raising her eyes from her work. Regina saw -that her mother was not deceived, and that wistful maternal glance -agitated her to the very depths of her soul. And the silver fish, in -whose inside was discovered another little black fish, reminded her -of Antonio's promise-- - -"We will go out together in a boat. We will fish together in the -beautiful red evenings----" and of all the torturing tenderness of -that last afternoon they had spent together. - -She went to her room and wrote him a letter. Pride would not let her -set down her real thoughts; but between the lines he might read all -her stinging anxiety, her fear, her penitence. He did not reply. - -Suppose he were really ill? Regina thought of writing to Arduina, -but quickly felt ashamed of the idea. No. _All those people_ whom -Antonio's unfortunate notion had thrust between her and him on -the first days of her arrival--all those people, the prime cause, -perhaps, of their present misery, were repugnant to her, positively -hateful. - -But what was he doing? Had he shut up the Apartment in Via d'Azeglio -and gone back to his family? The mere recollection of the marble -stair which led to that place of suffering, to that low, grey room -where a mysterious incubus had weighed down her soul, was enough to -darken her countenance. - -She wrote again. Antonio did not reply. - -Then Regina felt something rebound violently within her, like a rod -which straightens itself with a whirr after breaking the fetters -which have tied it down. It was her pride. She thought Antonio must -have guessed her unspoken drama of grief, lament, tenderness and -remorse, and that he was passing the bounds of just punishment. - -"He is taking advantage of me," she thought, "but we will see which -is the stronger!" - - "Antonio," she wrote to him, "I have been here for a whole - fortnight of patience and suffering. What is the meaning of - your silence? If you have neither understood nor pardoned the - letter I left for you, surely you must have written to tell - me so? If you have understood, and have forgiven, or, better - still, if you have consented to what I ask, equally in that - case you must have written. You cannot be ill, or one of your - people would certainly have informed me. Your conduct is so - strange that now I am more offended than grieved by it. Am - I a child that you punish me in this childish way? Perhaps - it has been a caprice on my part; but, mind, it is not the - freak of a child! It is one of those caprices which, punished - too severely, may end fatally. Antonio, don't suppose your - silence will bring me back to your side like a whipped and - famished hound. If you think you can take advantage of my - love for you, you are altogether mistaken. I will never go - back unless you call me; and whether this return is to be - soon or not for a long time, that is what we must decide - together. Either write or come to me at once. If within eight - days you have not replied, I shall not write again--not - until you have written yourself. But don't imagine that my - answer _then_ could be what it would be _now_. After all, - Antonio, we are husband and wife; we are not mere lovers who - can allow themselves jesting and nonsense, because their - passion is perhaps destined to come to nothing and to remain - for them only a memory. You and I are united by duty, and by - more serious, stronger, more tragic fetters than passion. If - I have been--let us admit it--thoughtless, romantic, even - childish, this is no reason why you should be the same. And - if you wish to be like that, I, at any rate, don't wish it - any longer. This is why I am writing to-day. This is why I - still wait. I repeat--write to me or come. We will decide - together. And now it all depends upon you whether the fault - is to be all mine or all yours, or to belong partly to us - both. I am waiting. - - "REGINA." - -Two days later Antonio replied with a telegram:-- - - "Starting to-morrow. Meet me at Casalmaggiore. Love and - kisses!" - -Love and kisses! Then he forgave! He was coming! He would forget--had -already forgotten! Regina felt as if she had awakened from an evil -dream. Ever afterwards she remembered the immense joy--melancholy -perhaps, but on this very account soothing and delicious--which she -experienced that day. She seemed to have come off victorious in the -family battle. It was she who, just to save appearances, had recalled -her husband. He was apparently defeated. But in reality it was she, -it was she! And by her own wish and without repentance. Still, by -this first victory she had tested her hidden strength and had found -it great. Henceforth she could rely upon it as a safeguard in all the -dangers of life. - -"Life belongs to the strong," she thought, "and who knows, who knows -but that I too may succeed in achieving fortune? From this out I am a -different person. What has changed me I do not know!" she exclaimed, -wandering along by the river as if lovelorn. - -"How full of strange incoherence and contradiction is the human -soul! Who is it says that inconsistency is the true characteristic -of man? Certainly the greater part of our disasters come from -punctiliousness, from pride, as to letting ourselves be inconsistent. -We often ought to be, we often wish to be, inconsistent. Well!" she -continued, increasingly surprised at herself, "it's very strange! -A month, a fortnight ago, I was another person! Why, how have I -changed like this? Here I am ready, without the smallest complaint, -to leave this world which held me so tight. Here I am ready to follow -my husband and to take up again the modest monotonous life which I -did detest, but which now I do not mind in the least. Is it because -I love Antonio? Yes; certainly; but there is some other reason as -well--something which I can't make out. I don't want to make it -out. I won't torment myself any more. I will understand only that -happiness lies in love, in domestic peace, in the picture which life -makes, not in the picture's frame. But how wonderfully changed I am!" -she repeated, in astonishment. "Such a strange, sudden metamorphosis -would seem unnatural in a novel. Yet it is true! the soul--what a -strange thing it is! Well, I won't think any more! _He_ is coming, -and that is all the world!" - -She walked on and on, analysing, and, at the same time, enjoying -her happiness. Rays of pleasure flashed across her spirit as she -remembered Antonio's eyes, lips, hands. Hers! Hers! Hers, this young -man! his love, his soul, his body! She had never before rightly -realised this great, this only happiness! - -She walked and walked. The sunset hour came. Though it was mid-July, -the country was still fresh. Now and then a transparent cloud veiled -the sun. A _gabbia_[5] passed her. The driver, fair complexioned and -careless as a child, was singing to himself. The wheels seemed mere -diaphanous clouds of dust, rosy lilac in the sunset. Quietly the -great river rolled in from the horizon; quietly it vanished to the -horizon, passing along, calm, luminous, solemn. In its omnipotent -force the river also appeared beneficent and happy, bringer of -peace to its fertile shores. In the very depths of her soul Regina -was stirred by the peace of the wide-stretched valley, by the -far-reaching beauty of the horizon, by the sublime, health-giving -tranquillity of the fields, the woods, the shores, by all the -emanations of grace from what she fancied a god transformed into a -stream. She had renewed her youth. Everything within, everything -around her was poetic, beautiful, stainless. Sorrow and evil had fled -far off, carried away by the river, vanished below the meeting line -of earth and heaven. The western sky had become all one soft yet -burning rose colour; the Po grew ever redder and more resplendent; -the woods were drawn out in long black lines against the flaming -background; the pungent perfume of grass hung on the air. Regina, -vaguely watching a laden boat as it descended the sunlit water from -Cicognara, became pensive and even sad. She asked herself whether -all the enchantment of this peace did not hide something insidious, -whether it were not like those mock islands covered with evanescent -verdure, amorously encircled by the river which yet reserved the -right of swallowing them at the first flood; enchanted islets for -the eye, unstable and engulfing for the unwary foot. - -[5] _Gabbia_, a special cart used in the Mantuan district for -carrying wheat, maize, etc. - -There were three mills on the river close to where Regina was -standing. She had often admired the most ancient one, the lower walls -of which were rudely decorated with prehistoric pictures, red and -blue scrawls representing the Madonna and St. James, a bush, and a -boat. The mill was surrounded by silvery-green water, which dashed -against the shining wheel. Boats came and went laden with white -sacks. On the platform stood the white figure of the miller, a young -woman sometimes by his side. - -Regina had often seen those two figures. The man was elderly but -still erect, his face shaven, lean and sallow, his cynical green -eyes half shut. The young woman also had half-shut, light eyes. She -was tall and lithe, pretty, in spite of too rosy a face, and hair -dishevelled and over red. She must be the miller's daughter, Regina -had supposed, probably in love with the mill servant. Life at the -mill must be happy as in a fairy tale. - -But later she had heard that the girl was the miller's wife, that he -drank, that he was jealous, and kept his wife imprisoned with him -in the mill. Evidently a tragedy was being played in the interior of -this prehistoric habitation! The running water, the turning wheel, -were reciting the eternal tale of human grief--were singing of the -jealous, tipsy, disagreeable old man, and of the girl, fiery as her -curls, brooding continually over rebellious and sinful thoughts. - -The boat, laden with workmen, touched the shore, and Regina -recognised one or two whom she knew. They invited her to go with them -to the mill, to eat _gnocchi_.[6] - -[6] _Gnocchi._ A favourite Italian sweet dish. - -She agreed. - -The Po was becoming more and more splendid, reflecting the whole -west, the great golden clouds, the reversed woods. An enchanted land -seemed to be submerged there in the water. Regina admired and was -silent, listening to the lively chatter of her companions. They were -talking of ghosts. Old Joachin, the rich miller--big, purple-faced, -goggle-eyed--one night, when he was passing along the bank in his -cart, saw a huge white dog, which jumped out of a bush and silently -and obstinately followed him. Who could believe this dog a dog? It -was a spirit. - -And one moonshiny night Petrin the boatman had seen from the river a -most strange, glistening creature flying along the shore. - -"A bicycle," pronounced old Joachin, beating his empty pipe against -the palm of his hand. - -"Oh, very well! Then your white dog was just a white dog!" - -Presently the party arrived at the mill. The miller came forward, -all smiles, and stretched out his hand to Regina. - -"_Ma benissimo!_ This is an honour, Signora Regina! I know you well; -and here is my wife, who knows you quite well too!" - -The ruddy young woman hung back shyly. - -"How do you do?" said Regina, looking at her curiously. She noticed -that the miller was not quite so old nor the woman so young as they -had seemed from the distance. - -The inside of the mill was very clean. A fire was burning at the foot -of the plank bed. Pots and pans of red earthenware were arranged on -the dresser. The mechanism of the mill was of the most primitive -pattern. Two large, round stones of a bluish hue were revolving one -upon the other, moved by the wheel. The flour slipped out slowly, -falling into a sack. - -And the wheel turned and turned, pursued, battered, lashed by the -noisy water. Wheel and water seemed to be whirling in a fight, merry -in appearance, pitiless and cruel in reality. - -Old Joachin took his wife by the shoulder and shook her. - -"Go and make the _gnocchi_, woman! Make them as fat as your fingers!" - -She giggled, looking at her hands, which were enormous, then took -flour and kneaded it with river water. - -Regina, finding her presence embarrassed the woman, went to the -platform and sat down on a sack of flour. She lost herself in -contemplation of the wonderful sunset. Already the sun was touching -the river, making a great column of gold. The water came burning -down from that magic spot, but upon reaching the mill its fire -began to go out, and it disappeared into the east, pallid as -mother-o'-pearl. - -Regina saw the whirlpools all luminous like immense shells; the mill -wheel flapped in the golden water like a huge metallic fan; the -falling drops, in which the slant rays of the sun were refracted, -showed all the rainbow colours. - -The miller drew near Regina and bent towards her. His feet were bare, -his thin legs and arms naked. His little green eyes smiled cynically. - -"If I may, I'll speak two words with you," he murmured, respectfully. - -"Yes?" said Regina. - -Instead of two words, he told her a great number of interesting -things. For instance, that he had all his teeth; that he paid 100 -_lire_ tax on his _richezze mobili_; that the wheel could be stopped -with a rope; that his wife was timid and diffident, and always -wanted to be tied to her husband's coat tails. Regina listened, -half-disappointed that her tragedy had been wholly imaginary. - -"You know," said the miller, who, while he talked, never stopped -rubbing his arms and scratching one foot with the other, "I wish to -goodness she'd go away for a fortnight or a month." - -"Why?" asked Regina, ingenuously. - -"Why, Signora Regina----" said the man, embarrassed, and scratching -with all his might--"well, you have no baby either, have you? And you -want one, I suppose? You'll be certain to have one now, after being -away for a month. Well, if you'll come with me, I'll show you how we -stop the wheel," he said, alarmed lest he had offended her. - -Regina followed him. The old man stopped the wheel with the rope and -asked his guest to examine the flour, the sack, the mill stones. In -the sudden silence of the wheel he laughed without any reason. A -dense cloud involved everything. The miller's wife, quite confounded -by Regina's presence, turned scarlet as she fried the _gnocchi_. -The figures on the platform were silhouetted against the golden -background. - -The miller looked at Regina and laughed, and suddenly, without -knowing why, she laughed herself. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - -Again the crazy little carriage belonging to Petrin il Gliglo rolled -along the river-bank. The night was hot, dark, and damp. After a -few sentences on indifferent matters, Antonio and Regina had fallen -silent, as if overcome by the quiet of the country and the night. -They were silent, but Regina spoke within herself, as was her habit, -and made note of a sad discovery. Antonio was changed! No; this time -it really was not fancy! He was changed. - -"He kissed me almost in a frenzy the moment he got out of the -train--as if he had feared he would never see me again. Then all -of a sudden his expression changed. Something gloomy, something -deprecating, came into his eyes. Has he lost his faith in me? Is -there something between us now? Well! of course it's like this at -first. To-morrow the constraint will have passed off." - -To drive away all vestige of fear she spoke to him again; but her -heart was thumping uncomfortably, and when she pressed his hand and -found it inert and cold, unexplained anxiety again took possession of -her. It was almost as bad as her terror during those days when she -had been vainly expecting a letter from him. - -"Oh, what is it?" she thought. "Has he not forgiven me?" - -"Feel!" she said, putting Antonio's hand against her side. The hand -became suddenly animated. - -"Is your heart still bad?" he asked, as if bethinking himself. - -"No! It's beating for joy!" she replied, and talked on very fast. -"Yesterday I went to the old painted mill, to eat _gnocchi_. It was -such fun! There was a splendid sunset. What a character that old -miller is!" - -She told the miller's prophecy, then went on to describe a visit to -the Master and his family. - -"He's a character too! But he's really quite mad. He wants to send -the children to Rome--the boy to make his fortune, the girl to become -famous. He says----" and she mimicked the Master's speeches and voice. - -Antonio laughed, but his laugh was cold and contemptuous, and seemed -far away. - -"Oh, what is it?" thought Regina, overwhelmed by unexpected sadness. -That scoffing laugh was new in Antonio. He was scornful. Was it of -herself? - -Fancies! Folly! - -"As soon as we're alone, I'll take him by the shoulders, shake him -and cry, 'What on earth's the matter with you? Haven't you forgiven -me? Don't let us have any more nonsense, _please_! There has been -more than enough!'" - -They were silent again. The chaise rolled on through the dark warm -night, through the pungent perfume of the motionless vegetation. The -young trees along the river were black in the darkness, blacker even -than the darkness. Everything was silent, everything exhaled sweet -odours. From the hot ground, from the damp wayside weeds, from the -paths bathed in dew, rose an intoxicating scent, a silent breath, -dreamy and voluptuous. Beside every bush seemed to stand a woman -waiting for her lover, her desire and her joy filling the emptiness -of the hot, rich night. - -"To-morrow we'll go out by moonlight," said Regina, who could not -keep quite silent. "The night I arrived there was a beautiful moon, -wasn't there, Petrin?" - -The driver made no reply. - -"He's asleep. We shall be upset," said Antonio. - -"Oh, no! The old horse is quite used to it," returned Regina, and -sure now that Petrin was not listening, she added, softly, "How -wretched I was that evening!" - -"Were you?" said Antonio, as if remembering nothing of what had -passed. - -Regina turned round, astonished and trembling. She had no strength -left. - -"Antonio," she whispered, her arm round his neck, "Why are you like -this? What is it? What's the matter?" - -"Do you ask?" he murmured, not looking at her. His voice was hardly -a breath, but a breath in which Regina felt the raging of a storm of -resentment. Again she was afraid. - -"You don't mean to forgive me!" she said, separating herself from -him. But already he had turned and pressed her to him, his lips -seeking hers with a fervour which seemed rather of despair than of -passion. - -Adamo's voice rang out from the bank. - -"Antonio--o! Regina--a!" - -Then Petrin's broad back swayed from right to left, and his whip -cracked. - -"_Quel ragass m'ha fatto ciappar pagura_ (That boy made me jump)," -said the man, as if talking in his sleep. Antonio and Regina moved -apart, and she blushed in the darkness as if new to love. - -Her heart was beating strongly, but between its strokes of joy were -shudders of sickening grief. - -After supper, as on the night of Regina's arrival, they all went out, -except Signora Caterina. Toscana and her brothers ran about as usual, -leaving their sister and her husband far behind. - -"Yes," said Regina; "my mother is right. You look ill! Surely you've -been having fever!" - -He did not answer at once. He was thinking. He seemed seeking an -appropriate beginning for a speech and unsuccessful in finding it. - -"Your mother herself looks out of sorts," he said at last. "What -distress you must have caused her, Regina!" - -"I? But I never told her a word!" - -"Didn't you?" - -"Don't you believe me? To explain your silence, I said you were ill." - -"Oh, did you?" he repeated, still incredulous. "Well, I was imagining -it was her advice had made you less--unkind." - -"Unkind? What do you mean?" she asked, coldly. - -Antonio was perhaps frightened in his turn. Had he deceived himself, -thinking Regina penitent and ready to come home? He became animated, -and found that beginning of speech which he had sought. The hour of -explanation had come. - -Regina asked nothing better; but to her surprise she did not feel -the commotion, the joy, the tenderness, which she had anticipated. -She was distressed. Antonio had forgiven her; he had suffered; he -had come, resolved to take her back at all costs; he loved her more -than ever, with true passion; he was united to her by all the strong -ties of his heart and his senses. But she was not content; she was -not properly stirred. Something was standing between her husband and -herself--something inexorable. They walked as of old, their arms -round each other, their fingers interlaced; but there was a whole -gulf between them, a whole immense river of cold, colourless water, -perfidiously silent, like that river down there below the road, -scarce visible between the black trees in the black night. - -Regina was certainly the clearer-sighted of the two, and she now saw -a mysterious thing. Once it was her soul which had escaped Antonio, -hiding itself behind a world of littlenesses, of vanity, of vain -desires and ambitions; now, on the contrary, it was his soul which -some occult and violent force was trying to wrest away from her. She -attempted to fathom this mystery. - -"What is it? He loves me; he has forgiven me! But he mistrusts, is -afraid of me. Why is this?" - -"Regina," said Antonio, "you must explain to me what you are -intending to do." - -"You know already." - -"I don't. I don't understand. Your last letter was even worse and -uglier than the first. I am not going to reproach you--as you say, it -would be useless; but another man in my place--well, never mind! You -have told me more than a hundred times that I don't understand you. -Now, to show you at least my good-will, I ask you to explain." - -"But didn't I write it?" she cried, half humble, half pettish. "I -wrote, 'It all depends upon you.'" - -"Do you mean you will come back with me to Rome?" - -"Yes." - -"Oh, very well. I am quite ready to forget all that has taken place. -But now I must know one thing more. Why have you given up your idea -so soon? I say _idea_, not caprice, because it has seemed to me, and -seems still, a very serious matter." - -"How can I tell? Are we able to explain our ideas or caprices, -or whatever you choose to call them? Have you never contradicted -yourself? One thinks one way to-day, another to-morrow. Are we -masters of ourselves? You said a minute ago, 'If I were another man.' -I understood what you meant; that if you had been another man you -would have ill-treated, insulted me. But, on the contrary, you are -very kind--perhaps kinder than before. Can you explain to yourself -why, instead of hating me for the trick I have played you, you care -for me perhaps more than before?" - -She spoke not entirely of conviction; but she wished to suggest to -Antonio the line he had better take. She believed she had succeeded, -for he became thoughtful as if repeating her questions to himself, -and presently said with a slight smile-- - -"Well, I dare say you are right!" - -"Don't let us say any more about it," cried Regina, imitating the -Master again. "It has been a freak--a folly of youth. Let us draw a -veil over the past." - -"You know you have humiliated me," urged Antonio; "it was a blow in -my face--a betrayal--and besides----" - -"Oh, don't we all make mistakes? What about all the other women? -Those who really betray their husbands?" - -"Yes," he answered her, quickly, "and the husbands who betray their -wives! Generally it's the bad husband who makes the bad wife. But -I never gave you any cause, Regina! What had you to complain of in -me? True enough I am not a lord, but you knew that from the first. -Had I promised you more than I could give? Well, you should have had -patience--confidence. Our circumstances may improve any day. I shall -never be rich, but, of course, in a little time my position must -alter to a certain extent----" - -"Oh, that'll do! That's enough," protested Regina. "You did not guess -that my fancy would pass away so soon?" - -"Did you think it yourself when you wrote? My dear, things seriously -done have serious effects. Well, we will cancel the past, as the -Master says. I've got one thing to tell you, however. Your letter -has done us some good after all. I saw at once that in one sense you -were right. Everybody has to try to get on, to push, to solicit, to -intrigue, '_Out with you, sir, in with me!_' and all that. 'Come,' I -said to myself, 'isn't it just possible I might do something?' Well, -I began my solicitations. I set Arduina to work. I had her running -about the town all day. I sent her to the Senator, the Princess, to -her journalists and deputies----" - -"Of course you didn't tell her----" interrupted Regina. - -"I told her no more than this: 'I want to be secretary to some -Minister. Find me a berth, and I'll get you six subscribers to your -paper among my colleagues.' She laughed and went to work, and I -set others in motion too. But it was all no good; there wasn't a -vacant post anywhere. Then Arduina gave me an idea. You remember -how the Princess sent for me one day to ask information about the -Stock Exchange, and how I saw she was beginning to be suspicious of -Cavaliere R----? Well, Arduina, who is no fool at bottom, sounded -Marianna. She found out it was just as I thought. She wanted to -put some one to look over his shoulder. 'Why shouldn't you become -her confidential agent?' said Arduina. So I went to the Princess -and offered my services. I said the office of a spy did not seem -to me very delicate, but that I would accept it, as it was a case -of urgent necessity. She convinced me that the indelicacy was on -the Cavaliere's part, and said that if I succeeded in being useful -she would be most grateful. That was on the 5th. Four days later I -proved that the Cavaliere R---- was speculating with her money more -for himself than for her." - -"How did you manage it?" asked Regina, vaguely uneasy at Antonio's -relation. - -"I will explain. You must know that Madame, for all her riches, is -as ignorant as a child about money affairs. She doesn't understand -a thing about banking, stocks, shares, book-keeping, and so forth, -and naturally has to put herself entirely into the hands of some -person who acts for her, and to accept all propositions and all -results of operations without any control. The Cavaliere R---- has -been serving her in this way for many years, and no doubt at first he -was perfectly scrupulous in his operations and in the statement of -accounts. But presently, aware that she knew nothing whatever about -these affairs and accepted with her eyes shut whatever he chose to -say, he thought he might profit without even risk of being found -out. Marianna, however, has been observing for some time that the -proceeds of the speculations have kept continually diminishing, which -the Cavaliere accounted for by the special conditions of the money -market, by monetary crises, by the rupture of commercial contracts, -by the war, etc. At her instigation, Madame made me the proposition -I told you of. Well, as she pressed me, I accepted the job, and told -her to put me in full possession of some recent transaction that I -might verify it. Next morning Madame sent me one of his statements, -on which I read, among other things-- - -"'Exchange of 10000.00 _marks_, at 123.20 _lire_; acquired 8 shares -of Acqua Marcia at 1465.00 _lire_.' - -"I consulted at the office the prices on the Exchange reported in -the _Gazzetta Ufficiale_ and found it was different from what he -had put down. Not satisfied with this, at lunch-time I went to the -Chamber of Commerce and got a list of the Exchanges of the preceding -day, and made certain of the difference I had already made out: the -Berlin Exchange was at 123.37 _lire_, and the shares of Acqua Marcia -were quoted at 1460.00 _lire_. Consequently, Cavaliere R---- had put -57 _lire_ into his own pocket. Then I made Madame give me all his -statements up to the end of June, which she had kept mixed up with -her private letters and newspapers. By the help of the bulletins -of the Exchange and other publications which I got through a -stock-broker I know, I proved that in these operations alone the man -had made a profit of 137.45 _lire_." - -"And then?" - -"Oh, then Madame thanked me very warmly and said she'd take -the opportunity of her going away to relieve the Cavaliere of -his services, and on her return would ask me to undertake the -speculating. She left home on the 12th, and has given me a whole lot -of matters to disentangle before her return. I must look up my German -a bit, for she has no end of business with Germany." - -Instinctively, Regina took her hand away from Antonio's, and said-- - -"Well?" - -"Well?" repeated Antonio. - -"How much is she to pay you?" - -"For the present, a hundred _lire_ a month; but a little later, -you see, I'm to become her _factotum_. I must grind at the German," -he repeated, seeming much pre-occupied with this question of the -language. He talked on about it, but Regina was no longer listening. - -"Let's go back!" she said, turning suddenly. "You must be tired! -Toscana! Gigi! Shall we go in? Here they come! Antonio, it's a funny -thing, but, do you know, I dreamt something very like this the first -night I was here." - -She told her dream of the ten thousand _lire_, Marianna, and the -fireman. - -"There's no doubt at all that dreams are very queer things!" - -He made no reply. - -"And why," asked Regina, after a moment of hesitation, "why didn't -you write to me?" - -"What was I to write to you? You had settled the question for -yourself. I wished to settle it in another manner, and a discussion -by letter seemed useless. Besides, I had decided to come to you here." - -Antonio's explanation was rather lame, but Regina did not insist. He -went on to describe his plans for the future. - -"Next year I'll go up for the examination and pass at latest in -October. Meantime, we can count on 325 _lire_ the month, net and -certain. You see, our position is already a little better. I have -sub-let the Apartment, and I've seen a capital _mezzanino_, in Via -Balbo, for 80 _lire_. Three first-rate rooms looking on the street, -and one, a large one, on the courtyard; all very light and sunny. We -can have two drawing-rooms." - -Regina listened, but she felt something which was not joy. Antonio's -news was not altogether cheering, and his voice seemed entirely -changed. It was the monotonous, distant voice of one not the merry -and happy Antonio of old. It moved her to positive pity. - -Two drawing-rooms! Yes, she understood his pre-occupation. He wanted -to give her something of what in her infatuation she had dreamed, -in her foolishness had asked. He wanted to give her at least the -illusion that she was a fine lady, prosperous and fashionable. And he -made his offer quite humbly, as if he were the guilty one, ready for -any weakness, if only he might be forgiven! She would have preferred -a tragedy of reproaches, and then the sweetness of pardon; a storm -which would leave their domestic heaven clearer than before. - -On the other hand, she realised that Antonio's love was blinder, more -abject, than she had imagined; in this, at least, there was some -satisfaction. - -They walked towards the house, so absorbed in their prosy talk that -they no longer noticed the mystery of the hot, sweet night brooding -over the colourless river, the dark sky, the motionless black woods, -like the profile of a forest sculptured on a bronze bas-relief. - -From time to time flashed the violet gleam of a bicycle lamp, which -went silently by, preceded by a big butterfly of shadow. At intervals -a few voices vibrated in the silence and immobility of the sleeping -world. The magic of dream floated in the warm, soft air. But the -young pair no longer felt the magic. Antonio was hot about his plans; -Regina overcome by pity for the man whom her folly had so miserably -and so profoundly changed. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - -They returned to Rome about the middle of August, and changed their -dwelling. The _mezzanino_ was really charming, but one of the rooms -remained almost empty for lack of furniture. - -"We might let it," suggested Regina. - -"Fie! Who's the little _bourgeoise_ now?" cried Antonio, indignant. - -"Oh, one changes as life goes on," she said, not without bitterness; -"one gets older, gets whipped, ends by adapting oneself to anything." - -She did in fact adapt herself--without knowing why. In herself and -in her surroundings, in the quiet life which she and Antonio had -resumed, she was sometimes conscious of an emptiness like that in the -new Apartment, but she no longer rebelled. - -After dinner they would go out arm in arm in the good _bourgeois_ -fashion, stifling the gentle tedium of their existence at the Café -Aragno or in Piazza Colonna, oftener in the streets and avenues -round Piazza della Stazione. The little tables in front of the Café -Gambrinus or Café Morteo were always surrounded by people who at any -rate seemed very lively. Crowds tramped the broad streets, bright -with electricity and moonlight. Beyond the great white square, where -the twin lights of the trams shone like drops of water, the station -carriages looked like files of monstrous sleeping insects. - -After the long silences and solemn solitudes of the Po, back now -in the crowd, in the cold, sharp splendour of the electric lights -hidden like little moons among the black ilices, Regina felt herself -in a dream. The cafés were overflown with light. Livid reflections -came from some empty table. Vestiges of lunar rays made their way -through the green shadows, the strange semi-darkness of the trees. -The crowd rolled past and looked into the café, merry with a second -crowd reflected and multiplied by mirrors. Now and then, in the -smoke-wreathed background of the Morteo, hovered the moving and -screaming figure of a singer, whose coarse notes were mixed with the -melancholy scraping of violins and the buzz of the people. A hundred -faces, derisive but brutally pleased, looked at the swaying, strident -figure. Regina found a curious interest in watching the crowd, the -faces, the light dresses of the women, the physiognomy of the men who -ogled the singer, the pitiable arms of this pitiable creature. - -One evening a little girl with thick hair falling in a red plait -over thin shoulders, with a green hat and a short green dress, which -left half-bare her meagre legs and big feet cased in yellow shoes, -reminded her of a water bird. Then suddenly, under those trees -blackened and burnt up by the heat of a thousand burning breaths, she -thought of her great river, of the poplars rising at this hour like -candles lighted by the moon, of the white line of the river-banks -cleaving the immense circle of the plain; and she marvelled that she -no longer felt the nostalgia which she had known of old. - -Antonio proposed to sit down at the café, but Regina preferred -moving round with the crowd, going as far as Via Volturno, where the -voices of the melon-sellers crossed, followed, answered each other -jealously, like the crowing of cocks. - -"_Favorischino, Signori! Favorischino!_" - -On the black, damp tables, cut melons showed rosy in the trembling -lamp-light, and diffused a fresh and agreeable odour like great red -flowers. Children, workmen, a pair of students, a woman or two, bent -over the pink flesh of the juicy slices. - -"_Favorischino, Signori!_ Behold what beauties! Real blood! Will you -buy one, lady?" - -There was a stall at the corner of the street against the wall, and -the vendor looked condescendingly at the people clustered round his -banks of melons; but if any one noticed his money-box, he turned -anxiously and put on an air of preternatural solemnity. - -"Do you intend to buy, madam?" - -And from an ambulant gramaphone, whose red trumpet rose in the -shadow like a coral cup, issued a strange, hoarse music, a metallic -and rapid laughter, now near, now far, which streamed forth from -an unknown and alarming profundity, expressing a false joy, a cry -of misery, grief, derision, of wickedness and roguery, of pity and -sadness--a voice at once mocking and imploring, empty and portentous, -unconscious, and supremely melancholy. - -To Regina it seemed the voice of the surrounding crowd. Yes! the -voice of the pale young daughter of joy, with the auburn hair under -the great black hat, seated alone and thoughtful before one of the -tables at the Morteo; the voice of the child like the water bird of -the famished singer, of the rough melon-seller, of the bright-eyed -old man in the pink shirt, of the gentleman with the thick lips and -brutal looks, of the melancholy fat man, of the lady in the red -dress lifted to show a trim ankle, of the wet-nurse with the Jewish -profile, of the yellow infant which she held in her arms, of the -little woman in black with floating veil who ran after the tram, of -the pair of lovers leaning romantically against the garden gate. - -"And it's my voice too, and Antonio's!" thought Regina, and sometimes -the crowd still disgusted her, but her disgust was tempered by -compassion. Returning home, she still saw the melon-seller, the fat -misanthrope, the nurse, and the girl with the red frock; but above -all the thin singing woman, who was probably hungry, and the daughter -of joy with the thoughtful, the pure face. She fancied that Antonio -had glanced at the latter with a certain interest, and she thought: -"Can they have known each other once?" But she felt no resentment, -only great compassion for the lost girl, for Antonio, for herself, -and for all the unconscious ones, the rich or the wretched, for all -the sadness and the weariness of men, which gurgled forth from the -blood-coloured cup of the ambulating gramaphone. - -Sometimes Antonio and Regina sat on a bench at the bottom of the -avenue in the shadow. He seemed overcome by depression and fatigue. -She watched dreamily the great coloured eyes of the tram, the course -of the newspaper carts, carrying to the station their load of glory -and of gossip, the going and coming of the people, the shadows of -the trees, the clouds which rose up from the silver depths of the -horizon. White and tender the moon looked down from heaven. Music -of mandolines and violins throbbed and vibrated, a neighbouring bell -tolled, a distant trumpet sounded. - -"They all make music!" observed Regina. "The whole world seems -holiday-making and merry." - -"On the contrary, according to you it's sad," said Antonio, not -without irony. - -"No; it's worse than sad! It's miserable, and I am very sorry for it!" - -He made no reply. Since their re-union he did not controvert the -melancholy speeches of his wife on those occasions, infrequent now, -when she allowed herself to be depressed. - - * * * * * - -In September Regina perceived that the old miller's prophecy had come -true. She was to be a mother. - -The fact was not particularly agitating, certainly not displeasing, -either to her or to her husband. It occasioned, however, a small -dispute between them, for Antonio declared at once that the child -must have a nurse, while Regina was for bringing it up herself. - -"Too much worry," he said, almost roughly. - -"Well, have we the means to pay for a nurse?" - -"We have," he affirmed, shortly. - -The year passed. Nothing extraordinary happened. During the winter -Regina went out little and scarcely saw any one. She did not visit -her mother-in-law, finding an excuse in the stairs. When Arduina came -to look for her, she bade the maid say she was not at home. She was -aware of her own ingratitude, since after all it was Arduina who had -got Antonio his post with the Princess; but she could not overcome -her antipathy to her husband's whole family. - -Before the child's birth she fell into a sort of moral lethargy. In -spite of the physical disturbances her prospects did not displease -her; on the other hand, the idea of motherhood woke in her little -enthusiasm. During the winter she devoured an immense number of -novels, which her husband brought from the library. Hour after hour -she sat over the fire, which Antonio had arranged in one of the -drawing-rooms--quite alone and very quiet. - -Antonio went out in the morning often while she was still asleep. He -ran in for lunch, went out again, came back towards evening after an -extra hour or two in the office, studying or dispatching business for -the Princess. Regina had got used to solitude. - -All was going on well; perhaps too well. In addition to his two -salaries, Antonio said he had made a little by extra work in the -Department. Then one evening towards the middle of April, when the -birth of the baby was imminent, he told Regina a somewhat curious -story. - -"If you won't scold," he began, "I'll confess my sins to you." - -"I needn't scold if you have upbraided yourself and repented." - -"Repented? No; the serious thing is, I haven't repented! Look here. -The day you ran away last year I got dragged by a friend of mine into -a gambling-house----" - -"Ah----!" cried Regina. - -"Don't be frightened. It was the one only time. I was irritated, -naturally; infuriated--almost desperate. But, you know (I never spoke -of it, but I want to tell you now once and for all) I was far angrier -with myself than with you. You were perfectly right. I had been -imprudent, improvident. I hadn't properly forewarned you of all the -little annoyances of middle-class life in a big town. We needn't go -over it. It's enough that I was furious with myself for not having -the sense to find some way out of my subordinate position. Well, I -went with the fellow, and I played. You remember I had 100 _lire_? -I put them all on the green table. I saw I was still a great baby, -fancying I understood others and myself, while, on the contrary--why, -I saw two or three of my colleagues there, and I even observed one -of them cheating! Another had that day gone down from our Department -into that of the Intendance, and the man who superseded him had paid -him 2000 _lire_. He (my colleague) had three children and another -coming. His wife hadn't been out for two months because she hadn't -a decent frock. He had made the exchange because he wanted to get -away from Rome, pay his debts, provide for his wife's confinement. -That night he had his 2000 _lire_ in his pocket, and, would you -believe it, he lost them all! As for me, I began by winning. I got -up to 1800 _lire_; then I lost till I was down to 50. I won and lost -again. That's how it always is. Towards morning I had made about -2000 _lire_. I was worn out, sleepy, nauseated. I thought of you. -I thought: 'If Regina only knew!' All at once a quarrel burst out -between one of the players and my colleague, who had been cheating. -They came to blows. The manager of the house intervened. There was -pandemonium! I got up and came away with my fine 2000 _lire_." - -Regina listened, seated by the window, against which Antonio was -leaning. It was almost night. From the beautiful hushed street, where -the lamps shone pale in the last rosiness of the long twilight, from -the gardens of the opposite houses, from near, from far, came that -warm and grateful perfume of the spring evenings in Rome. The new -moon, pale green like a slice of unripe orange, was going down in a -violet-pink sky, above the already darkened houses in the far part of -the street. Regina remembered the night when she had leaned against -the window of their first Apartment and complained that she could not -see the stars. What changes within and around her! That night she had -formulated to herself the plan of flight and separation. Now--now -all that seemed a dream. Why does life change one in this way? And -neither was Antonio what he had been that evening. He confessed it -himself. He said, "I was a great baby and did not know it." - -Now--now he was telling her a story, and Regina was listening, but -with an inexplicable conviction that it was not true. Why should he -say what was not true? She did not know, did not try to explain her -incredulity. She just felt that the story Antonio was telling her -was an invention. She was vaguely distressed. She would much rather -have thought Antonio had really been gambling, had lost or won--it -mattered little which--so long as he were not telling her lies. - -He went on-- - -"Now hear the best of it. When I found myself with the 2000 _lire_ -I formed at least two thousand projects. I thought of going to you. -I thought of gambling again. What I did was to hand the money over -to Arduina and tell her to get me a post as secretary. Then came -the days in which I was going to the Exchange about the Princess's -matter, and presently I purchased five shares in the Carburo -Italiano Company. They were at 300 _lire_ just then. Do you know what -they are worth now? Do you know, Regina?" - -In spite of herself, Regina was excited. Antonio was bending over -her, and though his voice was calm, almost indifferent, she felt in -him some unaccustomed agitation. - -She forgot the doubts which had assailed her. No; Antonio was no -longer lying. The expression of his eyes, brilliant in the light of -the window, was truly a sincere expression, on fire with audacity. -His eyes, once so soft, so amorous, were now those of a man intent on -making a fortune at all costs. - -"Do you know?" he repeated. - -"How should I know?" - -"Guess." - -"500 _lire_?" she hazarded. - -"More." - -"600?" - -"More--more." - -"1000?" she suggested, timidly. - -"More still." - -"Then we are rich!" she exclaimed, with forced irony, angry at her -own excitement. - -"We are not rich yet, but we can be. It's the first step, which is -everything, my dear! Our five shares are each worth 1200 _lire_. -They may go up even higher, but I intend to sell out to-morrow. Half -the money I shall give to you; with the other half I'll make another -venture. Fortune, it seems, is only a matter of will. But you mustn't -be frightened!" he ended, for Regina had turned pale. - -"Why did you never tell me about it?" - -"What was the use? Suppose the shares had gone down?" - -As on that former evening, which rose obstinately before Regina's -memory, the maid interrupted by announcing dinner, and the young pair -went into the next room. By the lamp-light Antonio again noticed -Regina's pallor, but he jested. - -"Don't fly away on the wings of Pegasus!" - -They talked a little of the morality and the opportunities of -speculation, of risks and lotteries. - -"Nonsense!" said Antonio. "All life is a lottery. We must risk -something or die. And now we'll go out for our walk." - - * * * * * - -Next day he sold the shares, after having shown them to Regina, and -gave her 3000 _lire_. She put 2000 in the savings bank; with the rest -she bought furniture, and provided for the birth and christening of -her baby. - -"Perhaps I shall die," she said, in the last days of waiting. "You'll -see that now, just when we've got a little luck, I shall die." - -"Don't talk nonsense," said Antonio, almost angry. - -She did not die, but she gave to the light a miserable little being, -its life hanging by a thread, a baby like a kitten, ill-formed, -ill-coloured, with an enormous head. - -When she first saw this little misery she wept with disappointment -and repugnance. - -"If it would only die!" she mourned, cruelly. "Why oh! why have I -given it life!" - -"Young lady," she was answered by the nurse, a peasant woman, like -a statue, with a bronze face in an aureole formed by a turquoise -head ornament, "leave the infant to me. You have brought her into the -world, and now you have no more to do. Leave her to me, _Signurě_." - -Regina appeared to have little confidence, so the big woman was -offended. She sulked, she quarrelled with the servant, who insisted -the baby was dying. Next day she fell out with Marianna, who had come -to inquire for Regina, and made the remark that the child seemed a -kitten. - -"Just let her grow a bit," cried the indignant peasant, "and she'll -be clawing at you! Little Miss Catharine may be like a kitten, but -you're for all the world like a rat!" - - * * * * * - -By the middle of May Regina had recovered; she had regained her -beauty and felt strong and happy. The nurse kept her promise; her -rich country milk gave life and vigour to the poor little city -infant. The distorted black little face cleared and acquired a -profile; the immense heavy eyes began to be human. Sometimes the baby -smiled, and her whole little face became animated. Then Regina felt -certain her daughter was beautiful; but presently she laughed and -thought she must be deluded--a victim of that mania which attacks all -mothers. - -However, she was happy, happy in her freedom, her health, her life. -After the few first delicious walks on Antonio's arm she began to go -with the nurse and the baby. The mornings were splendid; breaths of -perfumed wind gave stimulating sweetness to the air; bands of shining -silver furrowed the luminous heights of the heaven. - -How different from the spring of a year ago! Now Regina felt impulses -of tenderness for everything and everybody. The warm surging of that -breeze which came from the summer of the southern plains and passed -on to her northern home still stung by the sharpness of winter, -ravished her soul, sending it forth in flight like a bird drunk with -light and space. - -One day she sallied forth quite alone. She felt like that hero of -Dostoievsky's, who, unexpectedly obliged to cross the principal -streets of the great city in which he had long lived without -attention, seemed to himself born again to a new life. Roaming in the -immensity of Via Nazionale, Regina looked about her with childish -curiosity. For the first time she perceived that the Hotel Quirinale -was a soft grey, while to her it had always seemed mustard colour; -she saw the tower of the American Church striped and elegant like -a lady's dress; she admired the fine perspective of Via Quattro -Fontane; she stood on the sunlit carpet which covered regally the -steps of the Exhibition. A red-faced cabman raised two fingers, -thinking her a foreigner seeking a carriage; a Moor in European dress -passed near her and stared; a flower-girl offered her roses. It was -all interesting; but a year ago she would have been annoyed. - -She descended Via dei Serpenti, and as she advanced saw the arches -of the Colosseum open to the deep sky, and she fancied them huge -blue eyes looking at her and full of eternal dream. She found -herself alone before the great dead sphinx; only a boy--fair-haired, -rosy, dressed in green--was watching the entrance from between two -baskets of oranges. The broken columns lying in the sun showed -metallic reflections; the voluptuous wind brought whiffs of country -fragrance; cries of love-making birds came from the trees of the -Palatine; the outline of the trees was soft against the feathery -silver clouds which veiled the sky. - -Regina descended, almost running. She penetrated under an archway -and paused, checked by a sudden chill. A priest passed close to her, -black and fluttering, like a melancholy bird. She moved on, opened -her guide-book, but did not read. Play of sun and shade painted the -background of the Colosseum's immense emptiness. The walls, dotted -with wild plants and yellow flowers, suggested a mountain-side; shady -corners, green with moss, seemed little damp pastures; mysterious -caverns opened great black mouths. Hoarse cawing of rooks came -from behind the huge blue eyes which the great sphinx fixed on its -own ruin. From the hopeless profundity of heaven rained a dream of -solitude and death. - -"I have never cared for history," thought Regina. "There are persons -who come miles to gush about a stone on which possibly some Roman -warrior set his dirty foot! That seems silly to me. Why? A stone is -for me only a stone! Nothing speaks to me by its past, but by its -present significance. The past is death; the present is life. Here -am I, and here once laboured twelve thousand slaves--or how many was -it?" (Again she opened the guide-book, but did not read.) "Here the -lions devoured the Christians, and cruel eyes of emperors, women, -plebeians, with less conscience than the lions, enjoyed the horrid -spectacle. But all that is past, and it doesn't move me a bit. Oh, -dear! Here come the foreigners, bursting into this dream of death, -chattering like ducks in a stagnant pond! Let me escape!" - -She went away. The Palatine trees trembled in the breeze against a -sky ever brighter and brighter. The campanile of Santa Francesca -Romana was clear-cut, bright, and dark. The Arch of Constantine -framed the bright picture of the roadway with its background of -silvery cloud. Regina followed the road and seated herself on the -highest step of the stair of San Gregorio. Everything she could see -in front of her, from the pine-trees, noisy with birds, to the rosy -vision of the city's edge, all was light, life, joy; behind her, in -the damp cloister, green with moss, in the portico guarded by tombs, -in the abandoned garden, all was silence, sadness, death. Always the -great contrast! Vibrating with life, she nevertheless entered into -that place of death and allowed herself to be taken round by a friar, -who seemed a skeleton wrapped in a yellow tunic. They visited the -chapels, in whose silence the beautiful figures of Domenichino and -Guido grow pale, like persons condemned to solitude. Regina crossed -the desolate garden and watched the friar, with profound pity, -wondering he could still walk, though he was dead to life. - -She thought of her baby, the little Caterina. Ah! she should be -taught to appreciate, to enjoy, to adore life! - -"How many dead people there are in the world!" she thought. "I myself -was dead till a few months ago. Now I have revived a little, but I -am not so much alive as my baby shall be! I am only a resuscitated -person with the memory of the grave still in my soul." - -As she went out she put a small coin in the friar's yellow palm, and, -from the manner in which he thrust the money into his pocket and -looked at the donor, she perceived that he had still some life in -him, this little yellow skeleton of a friar! - -Then she went out, hurrying from the sepulchre-guarded portico, -thirsting for the sun, for noise, and for immensity. - - - - - PART III - - - - - CHAPTER I - - -On Christmas Eve (Old Style) Regina and Antonio went to the -Princess's reception. They were accompanied by a little blonde lady, -modestly attired in black. It was Gabrie, the Master's daughter, -who had realised her dream of finishing her studies in Rome at the -_Scuola di Magistero_. For two months, courageously and quietly, she -had lived on study and privation in a garret of Via San Lorenzo, in -the family of a strolling musician, who had once been an organist -near her home. The Venutellis had offered her hospitality, but she -had refused it, contenting herself with visiting at their house and -allowing them occasionally to take her to the theatre. To-night, -chiefly out of curiosity, she had condescended to go with them to -Madame Makuline's. She wanted to see a rich lady close, that she -might excite the envy of her puffed-up young friend at Sabbioneta. - -Innocently, or sarcastically (Regina had not yet made out if Gabrie -were innocent or malicious), she said-- - -"I've been sending her picture cards of the fox hunt, the meet, the -motors, the smart people. That young woman has no ideas beyond all -that." (She said _that young woman_ in accents of profound contempt.) - -"Nor have many others," muttered Antonio. - -He was stepping a little in advance of the ladies, and seemed lost -in thought, very erect and fashionable, however, in his dark, smooth -overcoat. - -"Do you mean that for me?" said Gabrie, after a pause. Then, without -waiting for a reply, almost as if penitent, she added, "Dear me, -Signor Antonio, aren't you crushed by that coat? The history -professor has one like it, and the girls say whenever he goes out he -has to come home and lie down--he's so worn out by it." - -"Indeed!" said Antonio, absently. - -They arrived at the Villa. The night was warm and still; the blue -splendour of the moon eclipsed the lamps. The street was empty. -Regina remembered the first night she had come to this house, and -she sighed and smiled. She did not know why she sighed nor why she -smiled, but she rapidly recalled how unhappy she had been then, -while now she was so extremely happy, with a husband who loved her -so much and worked for her so hard, with her pretty baby, her home, -her heart-felt peace and assured prosperity; and yet----And yet? Oh, -nothing! A mere cloud, the shadow of a cloud, passing over the depths -of her soul! - -The great doors opened. The servant did not smile, but his pale, -impassive face lighted up amiably at sight of the new-comers. - -"Are there many people?" asked Antonio, as the servant took Regina's -cloak. - -"A few," replied the big youth, in a bass voice. - -Regina looked at Gabrie, who, after a rapid glance at the wolves in -the porch, was covertly scrutinising the servant. He carried the -wraps into an adjacent room, and Antonio familiarly opened the door -to the right. - -"Wait one moment," said Regina, who was smoothing her hair. It -was beautifully arranged. She was rosy, and a little plumper than -she had been a year or two ago. Her light dress with its neck -garniture of foamy white was becoming. She looked young and almost a -beauty. Indeed, she thought so herself, and entered the Princess's -drawing-room quite satisfied. - -"How's the little one?" asked Madame. - -"Quite well, thank you. May I introduce my friend?" - -Gabrie bowed to the hostess, who scarcely noticed her. Then she sat -down in the corner of a sofa and stayed there the whole evening, shy, -quiet and silent. - -The usual old ladies and old gentlemen filled the rooms, which, as -usual, were overheated. - -The only person at all young was a lady dressed childishly in blue, -with big blue eyes and long, downcast golden lashes. She sat near the -hostess, in a circle of two old ladies and three old men, amongst -whom was he of the pink-china bald head. - -Madame was silent, listening to a German traveller who was giving -an account of his recent tour in India. Fatter than ever, paler, -more dowdy in her clumsy black velvet gown, the Princess looked like -one of the many old women of remoter ages whose ugliness has been -immortalised by the painters of their day. Her eyes alone seemed -alive in her swollen, corpse-like face. - -The lady in blue asked the German if he had read Loti's article on -India (without the English) in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_. - -"Oh, he exaggerates, as usual. To read Loti, you'd suppose the burial -in the Ganges a poem. On the contrary, it's a great----" - -"----a great _saleté_," said Marianna, sitting near Gabrie, and -whispering so as not to be overheard by Madame, who often reproved -her for her coarse language. - -Gabrie, who had understood from her Sabbioneta friend that great -ladies never said ugly words, stared at Marianna, then dropped her -eyes and remained quiet in her corner. - -"Whatever Loti says is false," continued the German. "I once heard -Madame Ciansahma, a Japanese authoress, say that when she wanted a -laugh she read a book of Loti's." - -"And don't we laugh when Madame Ciansahma takes us off, and tries to -look like an European?" asked the lady in blue. - -"How can she know what Madame Ciansahma looks like?" whispered -Marianna, leaning forward. - -Regina also leaned forward and indicated the blue lady. - -"She's blind, isn't she?" - -"Stone blind. For that matter," added Marianna, "the blind sometimes -see more than those with eyes." - -Gabrie, mute and stiff, wedged in between the two young ladies, -looked and listened. Every one was talking except herself--her -small, colourless self in her little black frock. The blind lady, -moving and talking as if she could see perfectly, became the special -object of her attention. - -The Princess was talking. Antonio also, very handsome but -preternaturally grave, was talking to an elderly young lady who -had stuck a golden fringe on top of her scanty red hair. Scraps of -phrases, laughter, isolated words in the midst of the general hubbub, -reached the corner where sat Regina, Gabrie and Marianna. - -"Do you know that lady's history?" asked Marianna. "Blind as she is, -she tried to murder her husband, who was the cause of her calamity." - -"How was that?" - -"I'll tell you afterwards. Now I must talk to those people over -there." - -She moved off with a great rustling of her petticoats. But suddenly -she stopped and said, looking back to Regina-- - -"I met your baby out with that demon of a nurse. I put the woman in a -fury telling her we were going to have an earthquake." - -"I know," said Regina laughing; "you frightened her to death." - -"Frightened her? Won't that poison the baby? But it's quite true -about the earthquake. I read it in print." - -"Really? What fun!" said Gabrie. - -Marianna seemed to see her for the first time. - -"Is this a relation of yours?" she asked Regina. - -"More or less," said Regina. - -"I observe a likeness. But bless me! I'm forgetting my duties." - -She started again, but again turned back. - -"Oh! I've been wanting to tell you something, Signora. Come with me. -How grand you are to-night! It must be because----" - -"What do you want to tell me?" - -"Come with me," said Marianna, taking her hand. - -"Gabrie, you come too," said Regina. - -Gabrie rose, but, bethinking her that Marianna probably wished to -speak to her friend alone, she begged to be allowed to remain where -she was. - -"You won't be lonely?" - -"No, no. I like this corner. Go." - -Regina went, but soon came back and took Gabrie to the supper-room. -The table was laden with plate, and the company stood round it eating -and drinking. Marianna, seated at the _Samovar_, was pouring tea -into Japanese cups, delicate and transparent as flowers. Antonio was -carrying them to the guests. He gave one to Gabrie, who smiled at him -quietly. - -"Are you enjoying yourself?" asked Antonio. - -"Yes, very much. Only I can't understand all they say. Even Regina -talks French. She speaks very well." - -Antonio looked at his wife, so fair, delicate, graceful. She drew -nearer and said-- - -"What are you staring at me for?" - -"Am I not allowed to look at my wife? Why are you pale? You were -quite rosy when we came. What's the matter?" - -"The matter? Nothing. Am I pale, Gabrie?" - -"A little. But it's very becoming," said Gabrie, tasting the tea. - -"Thank you, dear!" - -"You're much the prettiest here. Isn't she, Signor Antonio?" - -"The prettiest and the best dressed." - -"You're overwhelming me, you two," said Regina; "you're a pair of -flatterers, that's what you are!" - -"She's grown fatter, hasn't she," said Antonio to Gabrie. "Do you -remember how thin she was? By Jove, she was a fright!" - -"Thank you, my dear!" said Regina. - -"No, she wasn't a fright. She was thin, certainly. But when she came -home last year she was thin then. And quite _green_, she was! And -always in a bad humour! She was afraid you had run away from her, -Signor Antonio, and was always watching for the postman----" - -"Who told you that?" asked Regina, astonished. - -"I saw it. But the moment Signor Antonio arrived----" - -"Upon my word, if you fail as a novelist it won't be for want of -observation, my dear!" - -They were standing all together at a short distance from their -hostess. The latter suddenly turned and came towards them. In her -small be-gemmed hands she held a plate and a silver fork. She was -eating slowly, munching at a slice of tart, and she had smeared her -mouth with chocolate. Never had she looked more hideous. - -"Is your friend from Viadana?" she asked Antonio, pointing to Gabrie -with her fork. - -"From the country--from my home!" cried Regina, looking -affectionately at the girl. - -It seemed to her that Gabrie's little face wore a look of ineffable -disgust. - - * * * * * - -The days and the months rolled on. - -A morning came when Regina woke to see a thread of gold coming -through the closed shutters and falling on the blue wall across the -corner of her room. It was the sun beating on the window. Spring had -come, and Regina felt a profound gladness. Time had run on, and she -had not noticed it, so happy she thought herself. Sometimes she felt -quite afraid of her happiness, and even this morning, after her quick -joy at sight of the sunshine, she looked at the sleeping Antonio and -thought-- - -"Suppose he were to die! Any one of us, I, or he, or baby, might die -at any moment! This great light which shines in my soul might be put -out in one instant." - -She raised herself on her elbow and surveyed her husband. His fine -head, motionless on the pillow, illuminated by the gold ray from the -window, had the severe beauty of a statue. Blue veins showed on his -closed eyelids. His whole aspect was of suavity and gentleness. - -Last night he had come home late, later than usual, even though most -nights he was late. Regina was not jealous. He worked hard all day. -Every hour was absorbed by feverish activity. Only in the evening -could he amuse himself, walk, do what he liked. His wife knew this -and asked for no account of these hours. Besides, did he not always -tell her where he had been? There were days in which husband and wife -hardly saw each other, except in the morning when they first woke; -and sometimes, if he woke late, Antonio had to jump out of bed, dress -in a hurry, bolt his breakfast, and run to the office. - -For all that, perhaps because of that, their life went on smooth and -tranquil as a limpid and quiet stream. Nurse (always relating how she -had lived with a pair who used to beat each other even in bed--"and -when I wanted to make peace between them I took a stick too!") used -to say-- - -"We can't go on like this, Mistress! Do quarrel with Master a little, -or you'll see we shall get some bad luck." - -"I defy the prophecy!" said Regina. - -"Well, I hope I'll get through bringing up the little angel first! -See what a beauty she is! See!" - - * * * * * - -Antonio woke, and before opening his eyes felt that Regina was -looking at him, and he smiled. - -"It must be very late!" he exclaimed, seeing the ray of sunshine. - -"No; it's the sun which is earlier. It's a quarter to eight. Shall I -ring for baby?" - -"Wait one minute! Give me a kiss! We hardly ever see each other!" - -He took her in his arms and kissed her, hugging her like a child. -She kissed his smooth brow, his hair, and, feeling him all her own, -so loving, so young, so handsome, so trusting, her heart throbbed -with a tenderness that was almost pain. Thus for several minutes they -remained embraced, in the silence, in the luminous penumbra of the -warm, blue room. - -Outside the street was becoming animated; but the noises vibrated -softly, as if blended in the deep serenity of the air. - -"I feel as if we were lying in a wood," said Antonio. "I'm still half -asleep, and I'd like to sleep on like this to the end of time." - -"It's the spring!" said Regina. "I also see the wood, and through the -wood the river, and, oh, so many flowers!" - -"Are you going to the Pincio to-day?" - -"No; I'm going to see Gabrie. She has been three days in bed, poor -child." - -Antonio made no remark. He did not require his wife to account for -her time, just as she did not demand it of him. - -Regina wanted to go and see her mother in June, and he asked, -suddenly, "When is the exam.?" - -"What exam.? Gabrie's? July, I think." - -"Then you aren't going back together, as she said the other day?" - -"No." - -They were silent. So much time had passed, so many things had -changed--Regina had left home twice, and twice she had come -back--that the caprice of her first going away now seemed a mere -childishness, far off, obscured by subsequent events. Still, every -time they spoke of parting, even if, as to-day, it were at one of -the sweetest and most intimate moments of their life, they felt -embarrassed, separated, torn asunder by some extraneous force. But -this did not last. To-day spring was beating at the window. It was -the time not of clouds, but of sun. Young, at ease, in love with each -other, Regina and Antonio forgot the winter with the birds, and with -them sung their hymn of joy. - -He called her his little queen, and squandered on her a thousand -extravagant pet names. She admired him--meaning it, too--and told him -he was the most beautiful husband in the whole world. From the wall -the sun's eye watched them, pleased and peaceful. - - * * * * * - -Regina went with the nurse and baby to the station gardens, then set -off to visit Gabrie. She was taking her a book, a bunch of violets, -and a packet of biscuits; and she walked along lightly and briskly, -imagining herself engaged in a work of charity. She glanced at the -station clock and saw it was ten. Not a leaf fluttered, and the -motionless air was perfumed by narcissus and young grass. In the -distance the mountains were the colour of flax-blossom, and scarce -visible, as if seen through the transparence of water. A bird-seller -stepped just in front of Regina, and so intense, so insistent was -the joy of spring, that even the little half-fledged sparrows, the -redbreasts stained with blood, the canaries yellow as daffodils, -twittered with delight in the two swinging cages carried by the -melancholy man. Regina thought of buying a baby sparrow for Caterina; -but what would Caterina make of it? She would choke it without even -amusement. No; Regina would not accustom her little one to senseless -pleasures and cruel caprices. - -"But," she reflected, "if I buy the bird I shall give one moment of -pleasure to this sorrowful seller, who probably hasn't taken a penny -to-day. Yet why should I suppose the man sorrowful? He may be quite -happy. We are always imagining the griefs of others, and probably -they don't exist. Once I thought everybody was unhappy; now--now--I -see I was wrong." - - * * * * * - -Spring penetrated even into the big house where Gabrie lived. Regina -had always seen the stairs damp, greasy and muddy; but to-day they -were quite dry, the landings washed; an open door revealed a passage -with polished floor. From the first storey, which represented the -luxury of a book-keeper, to the fourth, inhabited by the ex-organist, -the inhabitants had cleaned up the house to receive the Easter -warmth--enemy of that great enemy of the poor, winter. Regina had -an undefined feeling of pensive pleasure as she heard her green -silk petticoat rustling up the silence of the stairs. She was not -consciously thinking of her silk petticoat, nor of the comfort of -her life, the short, well-lighted stair of her own dwelling, her -two drawing-rooms, her Savings-bank book, her subscription to the -Costanzi; but the certainty of all these possessions illumined her -heart, and made her a little sentimental. She felt herself a person -of consequence, sun-warmed like Easter, violets in her hand, bringing -the breath of spring up that stair of poverty, of workers, students, -failures. She would have liked to leave a violet on the threshold of -every Apartment. She remembered an anćmic young student whom she had -once seen coming out of N. 8, his lips blue, his eyes pale as faded -hyacinths, buttoned up in a threadbare though clean overcoat; and she -wished she might meet him to-day to greet him and make him understand -that she loved the poor, whom once she had despised. - -But the young man did not come out, and she climbed on till she had -reached a door where a card, fixed with four wafers, informed the -visitor that this Apartment had the good fortune to shelter. - - MARIO ENNIO COLORNI, - _Ex-Organist and - Professor of the Violin_. - -It was not impressive to Regina, as she had seen it already. She -had visited Gabrie several times. In the first instance the Master -had written praying her to "scrutinise whether the environment were -dangerous or doubtful, as all the houses in the San Lorenzo quarter -were reputed to be." - -Signora Colorni opened the door, a little woman with a black cap and -blue spectacles. She did not immediately recognise the visitor, and -hesitated childishly about allowing her to enter. Regina made her -smell the violets, and said, in the Mantuan dialect-- - -"Don't you know me? How is Gabrie?" - -The little woman, whom typhus fever had left bald, dumb, and nearly -blind, smiled gently. Her little face was the face of a child who -has put on Grandmother's cap and spectacles for fun. Regina walked -on into the Apartment, crossed the passage, which was very clean and -in which was a great smell of cooking, went into the little parlour, -the half-shut window of which was veiled by a curtain of yellowish -muslin. Through the open door she saw that Gabrie's room, in process -of arranging by Signora Colorni, was empty. - -She turned. The dumb woman smiled, and waved her hand to the window. - -"What? Out? But she wrote to me she was ill in bed!" - -The little woman shook her head, coughed, and touched her forehead -to signify that Gabrie had certainly been ill. Then she smiled again, -pointed to the window, took a chair, for they had come into the -little room, and placed it before Regina. - -"Will she soon be back? Where is she gone?" - -The woman took an envelope from Gabrie's table and held it to the -wall. - -"Gone to post a letter, is that it? Well, I'll wait a few minutes, as -I am tired. And how's Signor Ennio?" - -Again the woman smiled, made the gesture of violin-playing, then -opened her arms very wide, perhaps to intimate that he had gone a -long way, and that his instrument was speaking tenderly and humbly -to some German bride and bridegroom in that hour of sun, in the -poetry of some suburban inn, lively with chickens and pink with -peach-blossom. - -Regina sat down, and the little woman went away. - -For some minutes profound silence reigned in the clean little -Apartment, full of peace and the odour of baked meats. Gabrie's tiny -room, with its pink-flowered yellow paper, its narrow white bed, its -little table littered with books and copy-books, its window open on a -sky of pearl-strewn azure, gave Regina the idea of a nest on the top -of a poplar-tree. Yes! life was lovely even for the poor! Everything -was relative. This strolling fiddler, who at night brought two, -three, sometimes even five _lire_ home to his little hard-working, -dumb wife, and found his little home clean, a good piece of -_abbacchio_ (kid) in the oven, and a soft bed waiting for him, was -happier than many a millionaire. And Gabrie, with her pluck and her -dreams, who saw her life before her long but luminous, like that -depth of sky behind her window--who could say how happy she must be! -"Happiness is not in our surroundings, but in ourselves," thought -Regina. "I declare I once thought myself wretched because I lived on -a fifth floor in a house which was in quite a good quarter. Now I -believe I could be happy even here--in this house of poor people, in -the outskirts of the kingdom of the most miserable!" - -Still Gabrie did not come in. So much the better, if it meant she was -cured. Regina looked at her tiny clock; it was half-past ten. She -could wait a little longer. She got up and walked to the window. On -the right, on the left, overhead, that dazzling sky; down below the -railway, the tall houses tanned by the sun; bits of green, the vague -breathing of life and of spring, the immense palpitation of a distant -steam engine. All, all was beautiful. - -Still no Gabrie. Regina left the window and approached the table -to set down the violets which she still held in her hand. Her silk -petticoat made a great rustling in the silence of the tiny room. - -Yes; everything was beautiful; not least that little table covered -with foolscap and note-books which represented the dream, the -essence, the finger-marks of a soul clear and deep as a mirror. -Regina took up an open note-book. - -She remembered the time when she, too, had thought of becoming an -authoress. She had never succeeded in writing the first line of -her first chapter. How far would Gabrie get? Further, it was to be -hoped, than Arduina! Regina's thoughts wandered to her husband's -relations. They had disappeared, or at least faded from her life, -like personages in the opening chapters of a novel who find no -opportunity of coming in again. Regina often sent nurse and baby to -visit the grand-mother, and she listened to Antonio when he talked -of his family. Herself, however, she hardly ever saw any of them, -and though now she regarded them as neither more nor less agreeable -than a thousand others, she could not resist a feeling of resentment -whenever she found herself in their society. - -But why should she think of them now when she was turning the leaves -of Gabrie's note-book? She sought the sequence of ideas. This was it. -Confusedly she was thinking that if Antonio, instead of taking her -to his relations in that odious Apartment, choked up with lumber and -horrible figures like an ugly and ill-painted picture, had brought -her to a little, silent, sunny home as humble as even this of the -ex-organist, she would not have suffered so acutely during her -honeymoon. - -She put down that note-book and picked up another. Her thoughts now -changed their shape like clouds urged by the wind. - -"No; I should probably have suffered more. I had to suffer, to pass -through a crisis. I suppose all wives of any intelligence have to -go through it. And now, now it's easy for me to think everything -beautiful, because I am happy, because my life has become easy. Ah! -What's this? - -"A young lady of seventeen, of noble though fallen family, anćmic, -insincere, vain, envious, ambitious; knows how to conceal her faults -under a cold sweetness which seems natural. She is always talking of -the upper aristocracy. Some one told her she was like a Virgin of -Botticelli's, and ever since she has assumed an air of ecstasy and -sentiment. This does not prevent her from being ignobly enamoured of -a sign-painter." - -Regina recalled the enthusiasm with which the Master had read part -of this extract to Signora Caterina. She saw again the big Louis XV -room, flooded with the burning twilight, the clouds travelling like -violet-grey birds over the greenish sky, over the greenish river. - -"See what a spirit of observation! It's a character for a future -story, Signora Caterina. My Gabrie picks up, picks up. She sees a -character, observes it, sets it down. She is like a good housewife -who keeps everything in case it may come in useful----" - -The Master talked, and Regina pitied him. The Master read, and Regina -recognised in the figure drawn with photographic minuteness the young -lady from Sabbioneta. - -Gabrie's note-book was almost filled with these little figures. -Regina turned the leaves without scruple, and in the later pages she -found characters of professors, students, that of Claretta (a flirt, -hysterical, corrupt), whom Gabrie had met in Regina's drawing-room a -few days before. - -She was terrible, this future novelist; not a looking-glass, but a -Röntgen apparatus! - -Regina, impelled by curiosity, continued to turn the leaves and to -read, standing by the little table. - -"A young wife, short-sighted, dark, all eyes and mouth, clever, -rather original, a little enigmatical. Of noble but fallen family; -imagines she doesn't value her blue blood, and, perhaps, does not -think about it; but her blood is blue, and she feels it, and would -like to be aristocratic. She is fond of luxury and of rich people. -She is married to a poor man, but has succeeded in making him -_largely increase his income_." - -"Good gracious! This is myself!" thought Regina, amused but slightly -offended. "She doesn't treat me very kindly, this girl! What does she -mean by that last phrase?" - -Suddenly she remembered that Gabrie had once told her certain stories -she has got from her fellow-students. - -"But it's a fire of calumny, that college of yours!" Regina had -protested, and Gabrie had answered-- - -"A fire? It's a furnace!" - -She read on-- - -"An authoress: tall, thin, yellow, with little, milky eyes, small -mouth, black teeth, yellow hair, hooked nose. Moves pity by the mere -sight of her. When she's with men she also tries to flirt." - -"That's Arduina, slain in three lines," thought Regina. - -Then she found Massimo, Marianna--("short, with malicious olive face, -little black eyes, pretends always to speak the truth, but a sculptor -would entitle her, 'Statuette in bronze representing Malignant -Folly'"), the blind lady, other persons who frequented the Princess's -receptions, to which Regina had taken Gabrie several times. At last-- - -"A foreigner: very rich, tall, and stout; very black hair (dyed), -lips too thick, pale, almost livid. Eyes small and sharp; mysterious -as those of a wicked cat. Never laughs. Impossible to guess her age. -Deaf. Always talking of an uncle who knew Georges Sand. Type of the -sensual woman. Has a young lover----" - -And immediately after-- - -"Government clerk: private secretary to an old Princess. Young. Fair. -Very handsome. Tall, athletic; long, fascinating eyes; good mouth; -fresh complexion. Lively. Good-hearted. Deeply in love with his young -wife. Nevertheless, _he is the Princess's lover_." - - - - - CHAPTER II - - -Regina had once dreamed of an eclipse of the sun. Reading Gabrie's -page, she remembered that dream, because there was reproduced in -her the same feeling of fearful darkness, of portentous silence and -terrible expectation. - -For a moment. When the moment had passed she again saw the light of -the sun, felt again the vibration of life, perceived that everything -in the outer world had retained its proper aspect and position, and -that nothing was changed. But _she_ was no longer the same. Around -her, far and near, the light had returned; within her darkness -remained. - -She laid the note-book on the table, took up the violets, the -biscuits, the book, and she went. Later she saw she had fled from the -vulgar temptation to question Gabrie, to force her, even by violence, -to tell how she had guessed, whom she had heard speak of the hideous -secret. As always, she was sustained by pride, stiff and cold as the -iron which sustains the clay of the statue. - -The dumb woman ran after the visitor as she departed, and made signs -which Regina did not understand. That little figure, like a disguised -child, woke in her a kind of ferocious repulsion. Why did such -beings exist? Why did not nature or society suppress all maimed, -useless, weak persons? - -For the rest of her life Regina remembered that quiet little -Apartment of the strolling musician, the uneven stair, the equivocal -landings, the dusty hall of the big house in Via San Lorenzo; but it -was with profound disgust, as if she had there come in contact with -all the most foul and miserable things of life. She never returned to -it. - -Again she traversed the sunny street, the Piazza, the avenues, -without noticing any one or anything, though she forced herself to -remain calm and _not to believe_ that nonsense which she had read. -She would speak of it to Antonio. They would laugh at it together! - -However, she was aware that agitation was gaining upon her, and, -instead of going back to the garden where nurse and baby were -waiting, she sat down on the first bench of the avenue on the right, -opposite the Terme. - -Why did she not go back to the garden? Why not call the nurse, that -they might return home together? _She could not._ - -Suddenly she seemed to hear a distant rumble like that of the immense -palpitation of a train passing on some remote and invisible path. - -"My God, what is it?" - -A lady, with a great roll of red hair twisted at the nape of her -neck, passed, looking at her curiously and turning her head as she -went by. Regina drew a hand over her face, and understood that she -was pale and visibly upset. The distant rumble, the breathless -palpitation, came from her interior world, from her own agitated -heart. - -Then she shook herself all over like a bird just awakened, and tried -to return to reality. The violets, the packet and the book were -still on her lap. Why had she brought these away? Well, yes; by an -instinctive vendetta against Gabrie, who had thrust this thorn into -her heart. - -"How small I am!" she thought. "What fault is it of hers if _that_ is -true? But _can_ it be true? And why? And why did I not ask that at -once, that _Why_?" - -Ah! because it was useless to ask! - -She knew the answer to this terrible _Why_. Even before the useless -question had shaped itself on her lips the reason _Why_ had sounded -in her blood from vein to vein, out of the echoing abysses of her -heart. - -_He_ had sold himself. Regina did not doubt it for a single instant, -nor did the absurd thought pass for a single instant through her -mind, that before his marriage he could have been the disinterested -lover of that rich old woman. - -He had sold himself. He had sold himself for her, for Regina, -precisely as women sell themselves, to get money, to get a -fine house, light and air, bits of silk, gewgaws, gloves, silk -petticoats--all the things she had asked, all the things for lack of -which she had reproached him. - -"Oh, wretched, stupid boy! to be so weak, so vile. I will come home, -I will take you and punish you as one punishes a wicked child! You -ought to have understood me--you ought to have understood me!" - -But while in her heart she sobbed out these and other recriminations, -she felt them vain. Words of a very different truth were resounding -in her soul, turning it into a threatening whirlwind. - -It was she who had been weak and vile; she who had not understood the -seriousness and fatality of life; and now life was punishing her like -the wicked child which she had been. - -Her head burned and throbbed as if she had literally been beaten. How -long had she been sitting on this bench? People passed and stared at -her. Young men turned their heads. One of them smiled after a glance -of admiration at her green shoes and the edge of her green silk -petticoat showing under the flounces of her dress. - -She remembered that nurse was waiting in the gardens, but she could -not move. Through the veil of her anguish she saw the people passing, -the trees, the ruins in their spring clothing of weeds. There was a -yellow awning among the ruins, and two doves with grey plumage were -kissing in the ivy. The telegraph wires engraved the vivid azure of -the heavens. She saw the advertisements on a corner of the Terme, a -hunting scene, notice of a sale. She read senseless words, "Odol! -Odol! Odol!" which afterwards remained strangely impressed on her -memory. Builders were at work in the Piazza, and never afterwards -could she forget the earthy red colour of their shirts. She followed -with her gaze the scintillations of the wheels of the vehicles. - -The simple scene, familiar after having been seen a hundred times, -woke in her a profound disquiet, attracted, absorbed her. Then she -suddenly realised that she herself was creating this curious interest -in it, as an excuse for not moving from the bench, not going back to -the gardens, delaying the hour for returning home. - -She feared the return home to the house, the thought of which roused -in her a sense of horror. All in it was lurid! All! all! all! - -She would have liked to strip herself, to strip her baby--to tear -from the little soft body, pure as a rosebud, the robes of shame, of -prostitution, and take her thus naked on her naked breast, and fly -with her, fly, fly----! - -Fly! The old idea came back; but this time Regina would have wished -to fly to some spot far distant from her native province, away beyond -the river which never, never, would she cross again! - - - - - CHAPTER III - - -For more than half-an-hour Regina remained sitting on the bench. -People passed, hurrying homewards. The children had come away from -the gardens; even Caterina and her nurse must have left. The scent -of grass became oppressive; a hot and enervating breath passed -through the air. Like plaintive music, that odour of grass, that -voluptuous warmth which undulated in the perfumed air, sharpened -Regina's memories and emotions. Thoughts, stinging and ungovernable, -rolled in waves through her perturbed mind. Only one recollection -was insistent; it disappeared and returned, more definite than the -others, burning, portentous. It, and it alone, was a revelation, for -the other memories, however she might call them up, try to fix and -interrogate them, did not suggest to her that which she desired and -feared to know. - -How, she asked herself, could Gabrie have penetrated to the secret? -The intuition of an observant mind was not enough, nor the keen -vision of two sane and cruel eyes. What manifest sign had appeared -to Gabrie? Where had she found out the secret? On Madame's impassive -face? Antonio's? Marianna's? Or was it a thing already public? -Yet Regina had never even suspected it, nor did she remember the -smallest revealing sign. True, a few words, a few phrases, now -returned to her memory, taking a significance, which, even in her -agitation, she thought must be exaggerated. "Anything is possible," -Marianna had once said to her with her bad smile. "The blind see more -than those with eyes." Who had said that? She did not remember, but -she had certainly heard it in the Princess's drawing-room. Even the -blind--could they, did they see? Who could tell? _She_ had not seen, -perhaps because, in her foolish confidence, she had never looked. Now -she remembered the almost physical disgust which Madame Makuline had -caused her the very first time they had met. She remembered Arduina's -untidy, depressing little drawing-room, the wet sky, the melancholy -night; the little old woman dressed in black, sheltering under a -doorway, with her meagre basket of unripe lemons. In the shadow, -dense as the blackness of pitch, Antonio's face had become suddenly -sad, overcast, mysterious. The Princess's pallid, expressionless -face, with its thick, colourless lips, appeared in that depth of -shade like a dismal moon floating among the clouds of dream. Who -could guess how long the evil woman, the outworn body of a dead star, -had been attracting into her fatal orbit, her turbid atmosphere, the -winged bird, instinct with life and love, which was unconsciously -fluttering round her? - -Unconsciously? No. Antonio had become sombre that evening when he saw -the woman. As yet she disgusted him. But an abominable day had come -later. His wife had left him, reproaching him for his poverty; and -he, blind, humiliated, and defeated, had sold himself! - -And the most insistent of Regina's recollections, the one which came -as a revelation of the accomplished fact, was just that arrival of -Antonio at Casalmaggiore, that drive along the river-bank, that -strange impression she had received at sight of her husband. Now all -was clear. This was why he was changed; this was why his kisses had -seemed despairing, almost cruel. He had returned to her contaminated, -shuddering with anguish. He had kissed her like that for love and for -revenge, that he might make her share in the infamy to which she had -driven him, that he might forget that infamy, that he might purify -himself in her purity, and gain his own forgiveness. - -Afterwards--well, afterwards he had _got used_ to it. One gets used -to everything. She herself had got used----Would she get used to this? - -A whip would have stung her less than this idea. She leaped to -her feet, hurried down the Viale, and entered the garden. It was -deserted; already somnolent, scarcely shadowed by the delicate veil -of the renascent trees. The nurse had gone. - -Automatically Regina went out by the other gate, and paused under -the ilices, all sprinkled with the pale gold of their new leaves. -It was nearly noon. Was she to go back home? Was not this the just -moment, the just occasion for serious flight? She would not re-enter -the contaminated house! She would call Antonio to another place and -say to him: "Since the fault belongs to us both, let us pardon each -other; but in any case let us begin our life over again." Folly! -Stuff of romance! In real life such things cannot happen, or do not -happen at the just moment. Regina had once childishly run away, -leaving her nest merely because it was narrow. Her flight had been a -ridiculous caprice, and for that reason she had succeeded in carrying -it out. Now, on the other hand, now that her dignity and her honour -bade her remove her foot from the house which was soiled by the -basest shame, now it was impossible for her to repeat that action! - - * * * * * - -She hastens her step; her silk flounces rustle. She feels a slight -irritation in hearing that sighing of silk which surrounds and -follows her. Her thoughts, however, are clearing themselves. As she -descends Via Viminale, she seems returning to perfect calm. She must -wait, observe, investigate. The world is malicious. People live on -calumny, or at least on evil speaking. A man is not to be condemned -because a silly school-girl has written down in her note-book a -prurient malignity. - -It is abject nonsense! - -And yet---- - -The biggest tree has grown from a tiny seed---- - -Though she seems to have recovered her calm, Regina now and then -stops as if overcome by physical pain. She cannot go on; something is -pulling her back. But presently the fascination, the attraction of -home draws her on, forces her to hasten. She walks on and on almost -instinctively, like the horse who _feels_ the place where rest and -fodder are awaiting him. - -At the corner where Via Viminale is crossed by Via Principe Amedeo, -she stops as usual to look at the hats in the milliner's window. -She wants a mid-season hat. There is the very one! Of silvery-green -straw, trimmed with delicate pale thistles--a perfect poem of spring! -But a dark shadow falls over her eyes the moment she perceives she -has stopped. For hats, for silk petticoats, for all such miserable -things, splendid and putrescent like the slough of a serpent, for -these things he---- - -But the thought interrupts itself. No! no! Not a word of it is true! -One should have proof before uttering such calumnies! Walk on Regina! -Hurry! It is noon. _He_ must have come back. Luncheon is ready! - -And if none of it is true? Will he not notice her agitation? Can she -possibly hide it? And if none of it is true? He will suffer. Again -she will make him suffer for no reason. Here she is, pitying him! -Guilty or not, he is worthy of pity. Instinctively she pities him, -because the guilt has come home to herself. - -Via Torino, Via Balbo, crooked, deserted, flecked with shadows from -the trees in a little bird-haunted garden; a picture of distant -houses against the blue, blue background; a rosy-grey cloud, fragment -of mother-o'-pearl, sailing across the height of heaven--how sweet -is all that! Regina descends the street swiftly, goes swiftly up the -stair, her heart beats, her skirts rustle; but she no longer cares. -Antonio has not come in. Baby is asleep. Regina goes to her bedroom, -all blue, large and fresh in the penumbra of the closed shutters. She -is hot, and as she undresses her heart beats strongly, but no longer -with grief. At last she has awaked from a bad dream! or she has been -suffering some acute bodily pain, which is now over. - -There is Antonio's step upon the stair! She hears it as usual with -joy. Now the familiar sound of his latch-key! Now the occult breath -of life and joy which animates the whole house when he enters it! - -"You've come in? What a lovely day! And Caterina?" - -"She's asleep." - -He takes off his hat and light overcoat, and flings them on the bed. -Regina lifts her skirts from the floor, and is hanging them up, when -she feels Antonio pass quite close and touch her with that breath of -life, of youth and beauty, which he always sheds around him. - -"Good God! I have had a hideous dream!" she thinks, bathing her -burning face before joining him at the repast. - - * * * * * - -Antonio went out the moment he had finished lunch. He said he had an -appointment at the Exchange. And the moment he had gone Regina went -to the window, goaded by an obscure doubt, by a blind and unreasoning -instinct. She saw her husband walking with his active step towards -Via Depretis. Then she started back sharply, struck not by the -absurdity of her doubt, but by the doubt itself. - -No; at this hour he would not be going to _that other_. Besides, if -he were he would have said so. - -But now doubt was running riot in Regina's blood, and she felt her -soul crushed by a dark oppression, a thousand times more painful, -because more intelligent, than the oppression which she had felt up -to an hour ago. - -She repented that she had not detained Antonio and told him all. - -"But what would have been the good?" she reflected at once. "He would -lie. Of course, he wouldn't admit it to me! Oh, God! what must I do? -What must I do?" - -She sat down on the little arm-chair at the foot of her bed, and -tried to think, to calculate coldly. - -The cause of her doubt was certainly puerile--the guess of a -heartless child. But truth sometimes finds amusement in revealing -herself just in that way--by means of a heartless jest. The occult -law which guides human destiny has strange and incomprehensible -ordinances. At that moment Regina felt no wish to philosophise, -but in her own despite she turned over certain questions. Why -was all this happening which was happening? Why had she one day -rebelled against her good destiny and let herself be carried away -by a caprice? And why had this caprice, this feminine lightness, -into which she had drifted almost unconsciously, brought about a -tragedy? "Because we must have suffering," she answered herself. -"Because sorrow is the normal state of man. But I am not resigned -to suffering. I wish to rebel. Above all, I wish to overcome this -suspicion which is poisoning me. I wish to know the truth. And when I -know it--what shall I do?" - -She reasoned, and was conscious of reasoning. This comforted her -somewhat, or at least made her hope she would not commit further -follies. But at moments she asked herself, was not the very suspicion -itself a folly? - -"We were, we _are_, so happy! But I'm always obliged to torment -myself. I imagine I am reasoning, while to have the doubt at all is -imbecility!" - -But was she not saying this to convince herself there was no truth in -it all, while she felt, she _felt_, that it was entirely true? She -was afraid of losing her happiness, that's what it was! She wanted to -keep her happiness at all costs, even at the cost of a vile selling -of her conscience. - -Ah! this thought robbed her of her reason! In that case she would -be like the most abject of all the women who had ever been in her -circumstances! She reasoned no further. - -A nervous tremor shook her. Her arm contracted, forcing her to shut -her fists. - -"Anything! Anything! Misery, grief, scandal! Anything, even the -abandonment of Antonio--but not infamy!" - -She flung her arms over the bed, hid her face, bit, gnawed the -coverlet, and wept. - -She wept and she remembered. Once before she had flung herself on her -bed and had wept with rage and grief. But Antonio had come, and she -had kissed him with treason in her heart. It was she who had made -infamous this weak and loving man, the conquest, the prey, of her -superior force. - -He had degraded himself for her, and now she was lowering him still -more, suspecting that he would hesitate a single moment if she were -to say to him, "I don't want all this you are giving me! Let us rise -up out of the mud; let us re-make our life." - -"If he lies, it will be for me, because he will not wish to destroy -me. Oh! he is a rotten fruit! But I--_I_ am the worm which is -consuming him!" - -But if, after all, she were deceiving herself? If it were not true? -At moments this ray of joy flashed across her mind; then all the -former darkness returned. - -To know! to know! that was the first thing! Why cause him useless -distress? The first thing was to make certain, and then----she would -see! - -The tears did her good. They were like a summer shower, clearing and -refreshing her mind. She got up, washed her eyes, sat down to read -the newspaper. She had to do something. But the first words which -struck her and claimed her attention were these-- - -"_Arrest of a foreign priest._" - -She read no further, for the words reminded her of something distant -and oppressive, a matter now forgotten, which yet in some way -belonged to the drama evolving in her mind. - -What was it? When? How? - -Here it was. The dream she had had, that night in her old home, after -her running away. - -Shutting her eyes, she again saw Marianna's little figure running at -her side along the foggy river-bank, while she told how Antonio had -borrowed money from Madame "to set up a fine Apartment." - -Profound anguish, rage and shame goaded Regina, forced her to sob, to -run, to try and escape somehow from Marianna; but Marianna still ran -along by her side, telling of her encounter with the fireman. - -"He had become a priest; but coquettish----" - -She laughed, not thinking of the priest, thinking of some mysterious, -fearful thing. - -Regina opened her eyes, passed her hands over her face, still -tear-stained, and she felt her mind grow yet darker. At that moment -the memory of her dream had for her a solemn signification. From the -depths of the unconscious rose up clearly the anguished impression -of that distant hour. What had happened then? Under the influence of -what pathological phenomenon, presentiment, or suggestion, had she -fallen? Perhaps the very hour of her dream had been the hour of the -abominable deed. - -She remembered to have read instances of that sort of -thing--telepathy--clairvoyance---- - -Doubtless Antonio had thought of her while he was making love to the -rich old woman; his disgust, shame, rancour, had been so violent as -to project themselves to her, across space, in the very depths of her -subconsciousness. Out of that same depth now rose the memory; and the -inductions which accompanied it were some sort of comfort to Regina. - -But what miserable comfort! Suppose he had sold himself with disgust, -shame, rancour? Still he had sold himself. Suppose it had been for -love of herself? Still he had sold himself; he had been capable of -that! Regina pitied him, because she saw the pitiable side. But she -felt that henceforth in her heart there was room for no other kindly -sentiment. - -All was ruined; and among the grey vestiges trembled only the yellow -flowers of pity--too frail to survive among ruins. - -But if not a word of it was true? In dark hours the strongest soul -becomes the prey of superstition. The dream had been only a dream. In -any case, it had knitted itself strangely to reality by the 10,000 -_lire_, the beautiful Apartment, Marianna's laugh. - -Marianna! Ah! She at any rate would _know_! For a space Regina -thought of summoning her. - -"I will _make_ her speak--by violence if necessary! I will send the -nurse and the maid out of the house! I'm stronger than Marianna!" - -She closed her fist and looked at it to assure herself of her -strength. - -"If she won't speak, I'll crush her. I'll cry: 'Oh, you who always -speak the truth, speak it now!'" - -Already she heard her voice, echoing through the warm silence of her -drawing-room. - -What would Marianna reply? She would probably laugh. - -And suppose none of it were true? - -Pride pierced Regina's soul and destroyed the half-formed, -indecorous, senseless project. - -"Neither Marianna nor any one. I will find out myself." - -But after a few moments the turmoil in her thoughts recommenced, and -she formed other romantic and irrational projects. - -She would follow Antonio. - -Some fine night he would go out, and, after strolling hither and -thither for an hour, he would open the iron gate leading to Madame's -garden, the gate of which Massimo had said, "Here is the entrance for -her lovers." - -Antonio would go in. Regina would wait outside in the deserted -street, in the shadow of the corner. Some one would pass and look at -her with brutal eyes, imagining her a night wanderer; but she would -take no offence. Why should she take offence? Was she not lower than -the lowest of night wanderers? Were not her very clothes woven of -shame? - -Hours of silent torture would pass. - -Antonio was in there, in the oppressive heat of that house decked -with furs--voluptuous, feline, like the lair of a tigress. It was all -so horrible that, even in her insensate dream, Regina could not think -of it. Only she saw the Princess dressed in black velvet, her thick -neck roped with pearls, her hands small and sparkling. And the small, -sparkling hands were caressing Antonio's beautiful head. And he was -silent; he had got used to these caresses. - -This idea sufficed to produce in Regina an explosion of grief, which -quickly brought on reaction. She awoke from her delirium; thought -she saw all the folly of her doubt. None of it was true; none! Such -things only happened in novels. It was impossible that Antonio should -penetrate furtively into the old woman's house; impossible that his -wife should wait outside in the shadow of the corner, to make him a -comedy-scene when he came out. Ridiculous! - -So the slow day wore on in what seemed physical anguish, more or less -acute according to moments, which often completely disappeared, but -left the memory of pain and the dread of its return. - -Outside the feast of the sun continued, of the blue sky, of happy -birds. Now and then a passing carriage broke the silence of the -street with a torrent of noise. Then all was quiet again, save that -in the distance the continuous rumble of the city ebbed and flowed -like the swelling of the sea in an immense shell. - -About two Caterina woke up and began to cry. Regina heard this -tearless, causeless weeping, and went to the nursery. It was papered -with white, and, against this shining background, the bronzed and -heavy figure of the nurse with the baby, naked and pink in her -hands, woke a new feeling in Regina. She seemed looking at a picture -which signified something. But now everything had acquired for her -a signification of reproach. That figure of a peasant mother, dark, -rough, sweet, like a primitive Madonna, reminded her of what she -ought to have been herself. She didn't even know how to be a mother -like the meanest of peasants! She was nothing. A parasite--nothing -but a parasite! - -The nurse was dressing the child and talking to her in a "little -language." "_Pecchč quetto pianto?_ (What's all this crying about?) -What's the matter? Is little madam cold? Well, we'll put on her -lovely little shift, and then her lovely little socks, and then her -lovely little _shoosies_. Look! Look! What lovely little _shoosies_! -Go in, little foot! What? little foot won't go in? Oho, Mr. Foot, -that's all very fine, but in you go!" - -Caterina, in her chemise, rosy and fat, with her hair ruffled, cried -still; but she looked with interest at her white shoes and stuck out -her foot. - -"There's one gone in! Now the other. Let's see if this Mr. Foot is -as naughty as the other Mr. Foot. Up with him! No, this is good Mr. -Foot, and we'll give him a big kiss. Up!" - -Caterina laughed. Her eyes, with their bluish whites, her whole -face, her whole little figure, seemed illuminated. Regina took her -in her arms, danced her up and down, pressed her to her heart, made -her play, played and laughed with her. "My little, little one! My -_scagarottina_."[7] - -[7] The smallest, the last hatched, the favourite of the nestlings. - -"Bah!" said the nurse, very cross. "What's the sense of calling her -that? Give her to me. She's cold." - -"You had better take her to the Pincio," said Regina, returning the -babe to her arms; but Caterina held tight on to her mother, and -frowned at the nurse. - -"It's too windy on the Pincio," said the peasant, still crosser. -"And so, Miss Baby, you don't love me any more, don't you?" - -But Regina did not mind the nurse's jealousy. She had so often -herself been jealous of the nurse! - - * * * * * - -When the woman and the baby were gone, Regina wandered a little -hither and thither through the silent Apartment. What could she do -with herself? What could she do? She did not know what to do. She -ought to have gone to visit a lady she had met at Madame Makuline's; -but the bare idea of dressing herself to go to a drawing-room, where -a pack of women would be sitting in a circle, discussing gravely -and at length the alarming shape of the sleeves in the latest -fashion-book, filled her with melancholy. - -What was she to do? What was she to do? Boredom, or at least a -feeling which she told herself was boredom, began to oppress her. She -could not remember what, up till yesterday, she had been in the habit -of doing to exorcise boredom. But she did remember how in the first -year of her marriage she used to get bored just like this. - -Well, how had she got through that period? What grateful occupation -had made her forget the passing of life? - -None; she had just been happy. - -"What? Am I unhappy now? All because of a piece of nonsense?" she -asked herself, sitting down by the window of her bedroom and taking -up a little petticoat she was sewing for Baby. "But at that time, -too, I was making myself miserable about nothing." - -She stitched for five or six minutes. The silence of the room, the -quiet, rather melancholy afternoon light, that same distant rumbling -of the great shell, which reached her through the warm air, gave her -something of the vague and soothing sweetness of dream. The trouble -seemed laid. - -More minutes passed. - -But suddenly the door-bell sounded, and she sprang to her feet, -shaken by the electric vibration which infected her nerves. - -"Not at home!" she said, running to the maid, who was on her way to -open. - -Regina returned to her room and shut the door. She didn't even want -to know who was seeking her. At that moment, on that day, she hated -and despised the whole human kind. - -But when the maid told her through the door that the visitor was -Signorina Gabrie, Regina rushed to the window and called to the girl, -who was just issuing from the house. Gabrie came back. Regina at once -repented that she had recalled her. She saw she had been moved to do -so by an impulse of despairing curiosity. The student, finding her -note-books in disorder, probably suspected Regina had read them; now -she had perhaps come in alarm to make excuses for the horrors she had -written. A few questions would be enough---- - -But Regina quickly recovered her proud dignity. No, never! Neither of -Gabrie nor of any one would she ask that which it concerned her to -know. - -Gabrie came in, colourless in her loose black jacket. She was -not well; she coughed. Her eyes, however, had kept their cruel -brilliance, sharp and shining like needles. - -Regina felt afraid of this terrible girl. The future authoress seemed -already mistress of a power of divination superior to every other -human faculty. She would read her friend's thoughts through her -forehead! But the fear only lasted a moment. Gabrie was nothing! Just -a little tattler--despicable! - -"I was dressing to go out; that's why I said 'Not at home.' Are you -cured? I went to see you this morning." - -"I know, thanks. Yes, I am better. Go on dressing. I won't sit down. -How's Caterina?" - -"She's gone out," said Regina, smoothing her hair at the wardrobe -mirror. - -"Go on dressing," repeated Gabrie. "I'm sorry to be delaying you." - -Regina began to dress. She did not know where she was going, but she -would certainly go out just to get rid of Gabrie. - -"Shall I help?" asked the girl. - -"Yes, please. Hook the collar. Oh, these collars! What a torment they -are! One wants a maid just for these precious collars!" - -"Haven't you got one?" said Gabrie, dryly, fastening the collar. - -"That girl? She's a mere scrub." - -"Patience! Hold still a moment! How on earth can you wear such a -collar? Well, really, women _are_ the victims of fashion!" - -Regina felt Gabrie's slim, cold fingers on her neck. The -gold-embroidered collar, which reached to her very ears, choked her. -She turned round, flushed and angry. Was she angry with Gabrie or -with the collar? She did not know, but she flew out at Gabrie. - -"_Women!_ Aren't you a woman yourself, pray? Be so kind as to drop -that tone. I can't endure it!" - -"I know you can't," said the other meekly. "But is that my fault?" - -Regina looked at her while she held her breath, fastening the -overtight bodice. What did Gabrie mean? Had her words some occult -signification? - -"How old are you?" - -"Why do you ask? I'm twenty. Why?" - -"Really?" - -"Really. Why should I hide it? As I shan't find a husband----" - -"Don't be pathetic. I can't stand that, either." - -"I know you can't. Is it my fault?" - -"When's your first novel coming out?" - -"Sooner than you think," said Gabrie, brightening, but coughing -violently. - -"Will you put me into it?" said Regina, powdering herself spitefully. -The white powder clouded even the looking-glass, and Regina thought-- - -"Gabrie must find me changed, and she'll be guessing the reason." - -She knew she was cross, and felt vexed that she could not command -herself. But Gabrie coughed on and made no reply. They went out -together. - -"Where are you going?" asked Regina. - -"Home to my studies." - -"Come with me. There'll be matter for an authoress's study. Imagine a -room, with ten ladies, all mortal enemies, because each one is afraid -she isn't so well dressed as the others!" - -"In my books, if ever I write any, there'll be nothing so banal. -It's useless for you to take me '_in giro_.'"[8] - -[8] _Prendere in giro_: To take round with one. To make fun of. - -They both laughed at the pun, but Regina felt that the laugh rang -false. She could not make out whether Gabrie suspected her of reading -the note-book. - -"Good-bye," they said, without shaking hands. The girl went off -towards Via Torino and Regina turned in the direction of Via -Depretis, holding her smart dress very high. In the silence of the -deserted pavement her silk petticoat rustled like the dead leaves of -autumn. She was thinking of Gabrie, who had flown to her garret like -a bee to its hive, and who had an object in this stupid life. She -walked on, but did not know whither she was going. - -She went a long way, aimlessly; down and up Via Nazionale; then, -scarcely noticing it, she found herself in Via Sistina, going towards -the Pincio. Her troubled thoughts followed her like the rustle of her -skirts. - -On the Pincio she found the nurse with Caterina, and they sat -together on one of the terrace benches. There was no music, but the -fine day had attracted a crowd of foreigners and carriages. From -the bench (while the baby bent from the arms of the stooping nurse, -picked up stones, examined them gravely, then still more gravely -offered them to another baby,) Regina watched the circling carriages. -Slowly she passed under something of a spell as she gazed at the too -luminous, too tranquil, too beautiful picture--the pearly sky, the -flowery trees among the green trees, the charmingly attired idle -figures, the faces like paintings upon china. - -As in the background of a stage picture, the beautiful shining -horses, the carriages full of fair women, passed and re-passed in a -kind of rhythmical course, which fascinated with a sleepy fascination -like that of running water. - -Once Regina's envy of those fine ladies in their carriages had -swollen even to sinful hatred. Now, from the depths of the stupor -which overwhelmed her, she felt sorry for them, for the tedium of -their existence, their uselessness, their rhythmical course--always -the same, always equal, as on the park roads, so also in their lives. - -"Let us go. It's turning cold," said the nurse. - -Regina started. The sun had gone down, clear in a clear sky, scarce -tinted by faint green and rose; an ashen light, gently sad-coloured, -fell over the picture. Regina rose docilely and followed the big -woman whose bronze countenance was framed by the aureole of a -wet-nurse's head-dress. - -They walked and walked. Caterina slept on the nurse's powerful -shoulder, and the ashy-rose twilight threw its haze over Via Sistina. -The portly nurse swayed as she moved like a laden bark. Regina, -slender and rustling as a young poplar, followed automatically as -if towed by the big woman. When the latter stopped--and she stopped -before all the shop windows which showed necklaces and rings--Regina -also stopped, her looks veiled and vague. - -The long torment of excitement had been succeeded by indefinable -torpor. She was walking in a dream. Years and years must have -rolled by since she had passed along Via San Lorenzo following the -bird-seller. Of all her emotions, now only a vague sadness remained. -She seemed no longer in doubt, but finally convinced of the monstrous -folly of her suspicion. Only she was unable to recover her accustomed -serenity. - -Three lame musicians, standing before a gloomy house, sobbed out of -their old instruments a lament of supreme melancholy. The pavement -was crowded with elderly foreign ladies in hats of impossible -ugliness. From every cross-street sounded the warnings of motors. -Regina, being short-sighted, was always afraid of the motors, -especially in the twilight, when the last light of day was confused -in perilous dazzle with the uncertain brightness of the lamps. -To-night she was more nervous than usual. She felt as if monsters -were rampant through the city, howling to announce their passage. -Some fine day one of these monsters would overwhelm her and the baby -and the portly nurse, grinding them like grains of barley. - -In Piazza Barberini, an old gentleman, stooping slightly, and wearing -an overcoat of forgotten fashion buttoned up tightly though the -evening was almost hot, passed close to Regina. She recognised the -Senator, Arduina's relation, and turned to speak to him; but his -ironical though kindly eyes were looking straight before him, and he -saw no one. - -She had met him several times--once he had even come to visit -her--and each time he had talked about England and the English laws, -and the English women, repeating the refrain of his old song--"Work, -work, work! That is the secret of a good life." - -Regina had ended by finding him tiresome, like any other old -monomaniac. One could get along very well, even without work; of -course one could! But to-night she watched the small, bent figure -tripping along, melting into the misty distance of the street, and -she thought it even more ridiculous than usual. Nevertheless, it -seemed to her that this little gnome-like figure had appeared, as in -a fable, to point the moral of her unhappy history. - -Ah, well!--to talk like the Master--all life, if one considered it, -was an unhappy history. Was it not a most discomfortable sign of the -times that a girl of twenty, who had left the green river-banks of -her birth-place for the first time, should deliberately set down in -her note-book the most hideous things of life, which, moreover, were -only calumny? - -Antonio came home about seven. As on an evening long ago, the laid -table awaited him, and the passage was fragrant with the smell of -fried artichokes. Regina, not long returned from her walk, was making -out the housekeeping list for the morrow. - -Caterina was awake, and Antonio took her at once on his arm and sat -down by the window. The lamp-light always excited Caterina and made -her even merrier than usual. - -"Like the kittens," said the nurse. - -The baby, who appeared to cherish a great admiration for her father, -sat staring at him for a long time, then gravely showed him one -little foot with its sock on and a new shoe. - -Antonio understood her. - -"Aha! A coquette already! We've got some beautiful shoes, and we want -them admired, eh?" he said, nodding his head and taking the little -foot in his hand. - -But Caterina's face darkened. She frowned horribly, and made a great -effort to liberate her foot. She succeeded, but the shoe came -off and fell on the floor. Then the young father stooped and, not -without difficulty, put the little, hot, pulsing foot back in the -shoe, addressing the baby in phrases which, according to Balzac, are -ridiculous to read, but in the mouth of a father are sublime. - -Caterina replied in her own fashion. - -The mother drew nearer, but Antonio and the baby continued their -interesting conversation. The young man's eyes were clear and joyous, -and once again Regina convinced herself that she had dreamed a -hideous dream. - - * * * * * - -And day after day followed, almost exactly similar to this one. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - -An unusually hot April was burning up the city. Towards evening the -heavens flamed like incandescent metal. The scent of summer, of dust, -of withered grass, made the air almost suffocating. - -One evening Regina was visiting the Princess, who two days later was -going to Albano. - -"Shall you be there long?" asked the pink-china-headed old gentleman, -in French, making a great effort to speak. - -But, as he did not speak at all loud, Madame's big, yellow face -revolved slowly till her good ear was turned in the old gentleman's -direction. - -"Beg pardon?" - -"Will you stay long at Albano?" - -"Three weeks." - -"Where will you go afterwards?" continued the other, with a -seriousness almost tragic. - -"To Viareggio, Monsieur. And you?" - -"I don't know yet. I am still undecided. Perhaps to Vichy. You will -remain in Italy?" - -"Probably this year. I am not over well, and I don't wish to do -anything fatiguing. How dreadfully hot it is already! One can't -sleep. I ought to have got out the hair mattresses." - -Madame sighed. Monsieur sighed louder. They both seemed extremely -unhappy, she on account of the heat, he because he didn't know what -to do with himself for the summer. - -"I'm sure there's going to be an earthquake," said Marianna, by way -of comfort, as she brought them their tea. - -The old gentleman, who for some time had been casting tender looks at -Marianna, fixed his little blue eyes on her and said-- - -"How many cups, Mademoiselle, have you distributed in your life? When -I see you without one in your hand your little figure seems to me -incomplete." - -But Mademoiselle was out of humour, and would neither talk nonsense -nor listen to it. Even she was oppressed by the heat. Passing near -Regina, she said, in a stage whisper-- - -"For every cup of tea I have handed he has lost a lock of his hair!" - -But Regina also was cross, and did not listen. - -The heat made everybody cross and stupid. Regina, moreover, felt at -the end of her forces; her pride and her dignity were bending like -leaves scorched by the sun. She was anxiously expecting to be joined -by Antonio. Perhaps to-day she would really be given a sign; what -sort of sign she did not know, but she waited. She waited; ashamed of -being in this house, of facing that old woman, who was as impassive -as a deaf sphinx; yet ashamed also of being ashamed. - -While she waited her memory was busy. The very smallest sign would -be sufficient now she had gone over the past, and called up with -clearness and intensity each act, each word, which might have an -equivocal signification. To-day the bitter-sweet perfume of lilac -which pervaded the room reminded her of another occasion two years -ago; of words, bitter as the perfume, spoken by herself, and of -Marianna's terrible reply. - -"_To be poor in Rome is to be like a beggar gnawing a bone at the -shut door of a palace._" - -"_Just so; and presently the rich man's dog comes by and snatches -from the beggar's hand even the bone!_" - -Ah! Mademoiselle knew the world! While Regina was recalling the -distressed and ironical look which the Princess had given her that -day, just before her flight, Marianna brought her some tea and began -to tell the misdeeds of a very elegant gentleman who frequented -Madame's receptions. - -"They say he has really lived on the creatures," she said, "and when -they can't do any more for him, he flings them away like sucked -lemons." - -"So much the worse for them," said Regina. "After all, he's the -strongest and----" - -"Ah! I forgot you were a super-woman!" said Marianna, in a low voice. -Then she laughed. "Will you have some more tea?" - -Swift and terrible as the thunderbolt came the thought to Regina-- - -"Marianna knows the secret, and believes that I know it, too, and -consent!" - -A flame burned her face. Never did she forget the shame which this -flush caused her. It lasted a moment. Then she looked contemptuously -at Marianna, and remembered that the girl might have spoken without -intention; merely one of her usual insolent follies. Still, all her -pulses had been set throbbing. - -"At all costs I must get rid of this incubus," she thought, not -for the first, the second, the hundredth time. To-day she felt that -her trouble, real or imaginary, had come to the crisis, and must be -resolved, either by deliverance or by death. - -The old ladies and gentlemen were all gathered round their hostess, -who, whitewashed and wan, seemed in that sparkling circle like a -decaying pearl in a broken setting. They were talking of the suicide -of a Russian personage, a Mćcenas known to all Europe. - -One of the speakers, himself a Russian, told of a dinner he had -attended a few days before in Paris, given by artists and noblemen -to the rich suicide, and of all the intrigues and evil diplomacy -connected with that symposium, and the bonds, more or less shameful, -by which its guests were united among themselves. - -Regina listened and remembered that she had listened to similar -conversations a hundred times. What struck her was the simplicity -with which the Russian talked, and the eagerness with which the -others listened. No one was abashed; some even gave signs of -approbation, and seemed delighted at hearing a scandal, which, for -the most part, they already knew. It was the way of the world! And -was she to be surprised if one of these wrongs, which, it appeared, -were habitual with all the men and women of this earth, had come -home to herself? For a moment she asked, was she not a fool to be so -disturbed? Then the question horrified her. - -She felt herself stifled. The heat of the room, here and there -still decked with furs, gave her really a feeling of oppression and -suffocation. Surely the feline creatures were becoming alive! Their -skins were filling out; they were moving, approaching her! puffing -hot breath in her face, musky and voluptuous scent! They fascinated -her with their glassy eyes, raised their padded paws, slowly, softly; -hugged her, smothered her! Air! air! To free herself, or else to die! -Another moment, and she, Regina--erring, perhaps, but not impure, -who, on the banks of her native river, had dreamed of all in life -which is worthy to support life--another moment, and she would die of -asphyxia! - -Instinctively she got up and made her way to the marble terrace, -whence a stair led to the garden. A man was working at a round plot -like a tart, edged with velvet grass and patterned with bedding -plants. Everything was soft and artificial in the little green and -flowery garden, strewn with wistaria petals. The sunset light flushed -the garland of white roses which hung from the laurel above the -little gate. At this hour the little gate was shut. - -The hot, over-scented air of the garden had not yet brought Regina -any relief, when she saw the gate open and admit her husband. A -sanguinous veil clouded her eyes. For a moment she could not see -the figure advancing towards her. Antonio mounted the stair quite -quietly, stopped at her side, and asked-- - -"What are you doing here?" - -He was smart as usual, but not in visiting costume. - -"Why are you dressed like this?" said Regina, touching his sleeve. -"There is such a crowd of people, and it's so hot. Don't go in! They -haven't seen you, and I am just going!" - -"Wait one moment," he returned, tranquilly. "Why are you going?" - -"At least don't enter this way, Antonio!" she cried, excitedly. - -"But why not?" he repeated, opening the glass door. - -Regina remained on the terrace, looking at the gardener without -seeing him. Her suspicion was monstrous folly! A guilty man would -not act as at this moment Antonio had acted. Yet no! Immediately she -reflected that if he were guilty he would naturally behave just as he -had behaved--pretending not to understand, even if he did understand, -what was passing in her soul. But no! Again, no! If he were guilty -he would have pretended better. He would not have come in familiarly -by the garden gate. He would not have allowed himself the liberty, -knowing his wife here, in the _other woman's_ house. Yet she was -aware that the most astute delinquents pretend sometimes to forget, -and commit imprudences just in order to mislead suspicion. - -But what startled her at the moment was the perception that now -she held Antonio not only guilty, but aware of her suspicion, and -resolved to continue the deception. - -She went back into the drawing-room, where the discussion of the -foreigner's suicide was still going on. It seemed to her tiresome, -provincial gossip. - -Marianna gave Antonio tea, and while he nibbled a yellow biscuit with -teeth even as a child's, he also gave his opinion of the tragedy. -Madame bent forward to listen, and fanned herself with a little -Japanese fan, which seemed made of polished glass. The rings on her -tiny hands sparkled in the light, which grew ever fainter and rosier. - -Nothing occurred. There was still no sign, no revelation of the -secret. Antonio did not take much notice of Madame, and she, more -drooping and impassive than usual, turned her good ear to every one -who spoke, now and then replying politely. But in her metallic eyes -shone the vague and languid splendour of thoughts far away in matters -of her own. - -After a while Regina rose. Antonio followed her. They took leave -and went away. Marianna ran after them to the ante-room, and kissed -Regina on both cheeks. - -"Me also?" said Antonio, offering his cheek. - -"You to-morrow," she replied, carrying on the jest. Then she said, -seriously, "Come about seven, as we've got to go out first. Ah!" she -continued, following them to the door, "that man has been back. He -offers 300 _lire_ or a new fur. But Madame is firm in demanding her -own; she says he'll have to be summoned." - -"Well, we'll have him summoned," said Antonio. "But was the old fur a -good one?" - -"Why, it cost 900 _lire_!" - -"We'll see about it. _Au revoir!_" - -"Good-bye. Are you coming to Albano, Regina?" - -"If Madame invites us," said Antonio, and they went out. - -Regina has said neither yes nor no. They walked as far as Piazza -dell' Indipendenza in silence. Then Regina raised her head and asked-- - -"What was that about a fur?" - -"Oh, good Lord! don't speak of it! For a whole month I've heard of -nothing else. She sent a skin to the furrier to be repaired, and it -seems to have got changed or something----" - -"Are you going to Albano?" - -"If she invites us--some Sunday." - -"I'm not going," said Regina, stoutly. - -"Why not?" - -"Because--it's too hot," she said, dropping her voice. - -"It won't be hot there. She has taken a villa on the edge of the -lake. Such roses on the terrace! When they drop they fall straight -into the water." - -Regina knew all about it, for he had chosen the villa himself, and -had described it to his wife a few days ago. They walked on without -speaking further. The street lamps burned yellow and dismal in the -rosy twilight, and their dull flame increased Regina's melancholy. -Her foolish project of spying upon Antonio in the night recurred to -her. She saw herself a flitting shadow under that yellow and dismal -light, shadowed herself by some night prowler in search of adventure. -But suddenly she raised her head proudly, saying to herself-- - -"No, never again! This is the last time I shall go to that house; and -neither shall he go there again. It is time to bring it all to an -end!" - -When she had reached her room, she took off her silk jacket and flung -it on the bed. - -"Well! it _is_ hot! What a summer we are going to have! Oh, how -horrid Rome is in the summer! And _they_ are already going away. -Quite right, the poor delicate things! But we--yes, gnawing our -bones--if they're left to us----" - -"What's that you're muttering?" asked Antonio, but went on, without -waiting for an answer, "Hasn't Caterina come in yet?" - -Regina undressed, flinging down her things and inveighing against the -rich, great people, who abandon Rome at its first heat. - -Antonio stood looking out of the window. An angry thought flashed -through her mind, the worst of the perverse thoughts which had -destroyed her peace. - -"He's no longer displeased when I am cross. He's afraid of provoking -me to a burst of rage. He guesses that I _know_, and believes that -I'll bear it--up to a certain point." - -"Shut the window!" she said, irritated. - -He shut the window, patiently. - -"I'm going for the _Avanti_,"[9] he said, moving away; "make haste! -it's half-past seven." - -[9] An evening paper. - -Left alone, Regina experienced a sort of crisis, as on the evening -two years ago when she had been to the Grand Hotel. - -"Ah!" she thought, putting on her home evening dress; "The moment -he comes in I'll say to him, 'It's time to end this business! I am -moving away--in reality this time! I don't wish you to visit her -at Albano. I don't wish you ever again to go to her house. I will -never go to it myself. End it, Antonio! End it! end it! Don't you -see I am gnawing my heart out? Or is it that you do see and don't -care? Why don't you care? At least tell me why! Why do you act like -this? I don't know how to bear all these superfluities, these silk -petticoats, chiffons, which you have bought me with that money. -There! I fling them all from me--all! all! A garret is enough for -me, a sack to dress myself in, black bread--but _honour_, Antonio, -honour, honour!' Ah, they rob us even of our honour, even of that one -gnawed bone! But you'll have to reckon with me, Madame! old viscous -moon, blind and asthmatic personification of nocturnal vampires! -Wrapped in your furs, isn't it enough that you've had an easy life, -a soft life, which has corrupted you, body and soul, but you want -pleasure also in your old age? You and your old, rich friends, taking -advantage of the poor, of the poor and the young, who have been made -tender by tears, by weariness and grief, just as you have been made -soft by idleness and satiety!" - -"All this rhetoric is very fine," she thought, presently, putting her -clothes in order, "but the world belongs to the strong, and I--I am -one of the weak. I am weak because I reason too much, while _those_ -people don't reason at all; they only enjoy. That deaf old witch -has never _thought_. She has stolen my Antonio, and I--I have been -torturing myself for a whole month thinking whether it is delicate -to say to my husband, 'End it! End it!' But I will speak to-night! -And he will retort, saying it was all done for me--to give me those -things I demanded; and then--then what will happen? No; he won't -reproach me at all! He isn't capable of it. We shall forgive each -other. And then--what will happen? Is it true we can begin a new -life? Yes; even a ruined house can be rebuilt. But it isn't the same -house, and one can't live in it without constantly thinking of the -horror of the ruin." - -Antonio delayed in returning. The nurse also delayed. She was out of -temper at present and inclined to take liberties, because she was -soon to be dismissed. It was almost night. Regina gazed from the -window, vaguely anxious about her child. Twilight still lingered in -the lonely street, grass-grown like the streets of a deserted city. -The gardens were odoriferous with roses. A few stars twinkled on the -still blood-stained veil of the heavens. - -And, notwithstanding her proud resolve, Regina was overcome with -grief at the thought of abandoning that poetic street, every blade of -whose grass had known the illusion of her happiness. - -But she kept silence on this evening also. How could she help it? -Caterina would not go to bed; she wanted to stay with her papa, -whose golden moustache, beautiful eyes, beautiful scented hair, she -admired prodigiously. Did Caterina see that her papa was beautiful? -That cannot be known. But certainly she looked at his attractive -countenance with great pleasure, and seemed to find special delight -in touching the shaven face of _Il Papaino_ with her little -peach-blossom cheek. Antonio sang his favourite rhyme-- - - "Mousey doesn't care for cream, - Mousey wants to marry the Queen; - If the King won't let her go, - Mousey'll break his bones, you know." - -Each time he repeated those lines Regina remembered, as in a troubled -dream, the evening of her arrival in Rome. But to-night Caterina -laughed and screamed with mad delight, and admired her papa more -than ever; and then they talked together of so many things, of such -secret things, comprehensible only to themselves! What could Regina -do? Deprive Antonio, who had been working all day, of the pleasure -of talking to his baby, wrest the little one from him, and send her -away? She was not so cruel. When at last Caterina's big eyes became -languid with sleep, and all her little body relaxed and sank, heavy -and sweet like a ripe fruit, Antonio said-- - -"Now I am going out for a little." - -What could Regina do? Say to him-- - -"No; stay. I wish to tell you the horrible things I am thinking of -you----?" - -It was impossible. He had every right to go out for a little, at -least in the evening, after a whole day of fatigue. - -He went out, and Regina sat down and read the terrible column of the -_Avanti_ called "What goes on in the world." - - * * * * * - -Madame Makuline left Rome two days later, but Antonio still went -daily to the villa to see after the letters and dispatch certain -affairs. - -On Sunday he showed Regina the key, and told her the old servant left -in charge of the house had asked leave of absence. - -"At last we are proprietors of a villa," he said, joking. - -Then Regina was assailed by a temptation. In vain, for some minutes, -she tried to put it from her. - -"Let us go to the villa," she proposed. - -Antonio not only accepted, but seemed delighted. Could he be so -cynical? - -She put on a soft, white dress, with big, flopping sleeves, in which -she looked very young and beautiful with the modern beauty which -lies less in line than in expression. The dress was new, and Antonio -admired it to her satisfaction. Notwithstanding the internal current -of suspicion and resentment which continually fretted her soul, -she could not do without pretty frocks. Sometimes she even felt a -morbid pleasure in spending _that_ money on objects of ornament and -superfluity. She had resumed minute care of her complexion, her -hair, her nails. She wasted half-hours in rubbing her face with oil -of almonds, in dressing her hair to the fashion. What did she mean -by it? To please Antonio, or to please others? She did not know, -but, perceiving she was no longer angry with herself for her vain -refinements, she questioned whether her moral sense were not growing -daily weaker and weaker. - -Scarcely had they started for the villa when a puff of contemptuous -wind ruffled her hair and blew the powder from her face. It was a -burning afternoon; the trees trembled at the breath of the hot wind; -the Piazza, dazzling in the sunshine, seemed vaster even than usual. -A veil of dust obscured the distance of the streets. The east wind -was raging, its hot breath pregnant with malign suggestions. - -Their heads bent, holding on their hats, Antonio and Regina took -their way, and they laughed a little and squabbled a little. Arrived -in front of the villa, they looked round like thieves. The street was -deserted, swept by the wind; leaves of roses and geraniums fluttered -to the pavement; a hot perfume of lilies rose from the garden. They -seemed in an enchanted city, new, unknown, not yet inhabited. - -When Antonio unlocked the polished door, Regina felt as if entering -her own house, long dreamed of, attained by magic. Stepping into the -vestibule, cool as the bed of the river, seemed like stepping into a -bath. The wolves were covered with cloths, as if they had disguised -themselves for fun in their mistress's absence. A small marble head, -pallid behind a motionless palm-tree, faced the intruders with -smiling lips. Regina walked softly by force of habit, and removed her -hat before the veiled mirror. Then she remembered they were alone, -and put the hat on the marble head with a laugh. - -"Hush!" whispered her husband. "Don't make so much noise." - -"Who is there to hear us?" - -He opened a door. She followed him. They crossed the saloons and -entered the dining-room. Antonio walked on tip-toe with a certain -diffidence. He would not let Regina laugh. - -"Aren't we here to play at being proprietors?" she asked. "Let's see -if we can make some tea!" - -"No, no," said Antonio. "I don't want the caretaker to find out we've -been here. But stop--there should be some Madeira in the sideboard. -Aha!" - -They found the bottle and tasted it. Then they put everything back -in its place. They were like children. Antonio became merry, and, -without making a noise, began also to amuse himself. They returned -to the drawing-room, and Regina partly opened the shutters. A green -light illuminated one corner. Regina pretended to be holding a -reception, mimicked the voice of the pretty blind lady, then lolled -on Madame's favourite sofa. It was covered with grey fur, and -suggested an immense sleeping cat. - -In her soft dress, her hair falling loose on her forehead, her eyes -burning, and it seemed artificially darkened, she looked, in the -green penumbra, a real, great lady, _blasée_, lost in an unwholesome -dream. - -Antonio meantime tried to open the door which led to the terrace and -the garden. - -"Wait a bit," said Regina. "Let's look round up-stairs first. Have -you ever been up-stairs?" - -"I? Never." - -"Well, come now. Leave that door locked. Come here. I want to tell -you something!" she said, childishly. - -"What is it? I'm looking for the key." - -As if guessing her idea, he did not come to the lure. - -Then she felt blaze up the wicked doubt which persecuted her. Yes, in -this room, perhaps on this very divan, Antonio had stained his lips -with hateful kisses! - -She bit her lips to repress a shudder, then rose and hastened to the -next room. - -"Let's go in there. Never mind that door." - -He crossed the room and joined her. Cat-like, Regina threw herself on -his breast and kissed him. Illusion of the light? It seemed to her -that Antonio's face became green, and she believed she had intuition -of the drama evolving in his soul. Yes! he must at this moment be -remembering something nauseous! an embrace, a kiss, which had stained -his soul with infamy! Here, in this place to kiss the lips of his -wife must be castigation for him! - -Her delirium was increasing. - -"Kiss me!" she imposed upon her husband, fixing on him eyes of tragic -flame, and drawing him towards the divan. He certainly resisted; but -he kissed her, his lips still scented with the wine. Then Regina, on -fire with the madness of her doubt, believed the moment had come for -tearing the vile secret from those lips, whose kisses gave her mortal -anguish in this place where every object must remind Antonio of his -miserable error. - -But she was unable to formulate her horrible demand. - -Afterwards they penetrated into the study and the library, where -Antonio was accustomed to spend what he called his hours of service. -It was a real library, with a thousand volumes artistically bound. -Madame had shown Regina some ancient books, an illuminated codex, -Ariosto's autograph, said to be genuine, some letters from celebrated -authors, amongst them three signed Georges Sand. In spite of her -pre-occupation, Regina amused herself looking through the glass of -the bookshelves, as the street boys peer into the shop windows. -Meantime Antonio glanced at the letters laid on the writing-table at -which he was accustomed to dispatch the Princess's correspondence. - -Regina presently made her way into the little adjoining room, -a boudoir where Madame sometimes dined. Antonio followed. They -opened the door and found themselves in a wide ante-chamber, which -communicated with the garden. A back staircase led to the first -floor. But all doors were locked except that of the bath-room. A -little water, blue with soap, had been left in the bath. - -Regina was watching Antonio, but he moved with hesitation, and she -thought him unfamiliar with the house. - -"I want to cross that bridge which connects the two parts of the -villa," said Regina, shaking the lobby doors. - -But everything was locked, so they descended again and went to the -kitchen. Tufts of verdure almost blocked the barred window. Still, -the golden afternoon light penetrated at the top. A background of -flower-garden was discernible, and rose petals had fallen on the -shining pavement. A marble table was splendid in the centre of the -kitchen. - -"It's like a church!" said Antonio, merry again. "Suppose we dance a -little?" - -"It's finer than our drawing-room," sighed Regina. "Oh! do be quiet!" - -But he whirled her away with him round the table. - -A magnificent black cat, asleep on the dresser, raised his -great, round head, opened his orange eyes, and looked at the two -liberty-taking people without moving. Regina shuddered, however. - -"How silly we are!" she said. "Suppose the man were to come in and -find us here? I declare I hear steps in the garden! Let us escape!" - -But Antonio put on the cook's apron, pretended to cook, and, -servant-fashion, spoke against the mistress. He suggested that she -was a spy of the Russian Government. Regina listened and laughed, but -reflected that in this kitchen was perhaps known and discussed that -other secret of which she had not been able to rend the unclean veil. - -She resented Antonio's gaiety, and an accident increased her -ill-humour. The cat was still watching, now and then giving an -ostentatious yawn. She tried to stroke him, stretching her hand over -the dresser. But the cat sprang to a ledge higher up, and upset -a flask. Big drops of oil, thick and yellow, rained on her white -raiment, spotting it irreparably. She nearly cried with annoyance; -foolish words came unconsciously from her mouth. - -"Even my dress gets stained in this horrible house!" - -Antonio listened, but seemed not to understand. He found a bottle of -benzine, and helped Regina to clean her dress, then put everything -back in its place, threw his arm round her waist, and made her run -with him up the stair, careless of her stumbles, deaf to all protests -and reproaches. - -Thus they entered the garden, and Regina recovered her calm. The -sinking sun gilded half the expanse, leaving the rest in deep shadow. -The wind passed high up over the tops of the laurels, which were -garlanded with white roses. From time to time a rain of rose-leaves, -of lime-blossom, of wistaria, circled down through the hot air and -fell on the paths. Regina and her husband sat in a green corner close -to a hermes, on which was an archaic head. Black, hard, epicene, it -had a complacent and sarcastic smile. - -"He thinks us a pair of lovers," said Regina, remarking the -expression. "No, my dear fellow, I assure you we are enemies!" - -"And why?" asked Antonio, coldly. - -Then a recollection shot through Regina's mind. - -"Do you remember that day in the woods, two years ago, when you--had -come for me? There were so many blue butterflies, just like these -wistaria blossoms----" - -She laughed meaningly. Did he remember? And the remembrance of that -hour of pleasure passed in the mystery of the damp, hot woods the -day after his coming to Regina's home, after her flight and their -reconciliation, seemed to reawaken him to passion. - -The childish gaiety which had animated him a few minutes before -passed into a nervous tenderness, and this time it was he who sought -the lips of his wife in a kiss, which reminded her of his kisses -_then_. - -And her doubts tormented her more than ever. - -At sunset-time they went back into the house, but they did not yet -go away. They wandered through the rooms abandoning themselves to -childish extravagances. They ran about in the dark, and Regina, -wailing over her dress, amused herself spitefully moving the -furniture which Antonio put back into order. - -Now and then they renewed their lover-like caresses. The warmth of -the spring sunset came through the closed shutters and set Antonio's -blood on fire. Regina found a perverse pleasure in enjoying the -tenderness of her young husband there where she suspected he had -stained the purity of his love. - -Turbid poison was boiling in her soul. When Antonio kissed her, and -trembled under her unaccustomed kisses, she fixed wild eyes on the -dark corners, on the opaque brilliance of the veiled mirrors, trying -to penetrate into the secrets of their vanished reflections. It -seemed to her that the phantasm of "the old moon," of the purchaser -of kisses, was there in the depth of some looking-glass, gnawing -herself with jealousy and rage at the sight of Antonio giving his -wife caresses, a single one of which all her millions was not -sufficient to buy. - -Thus Regina thought to take her revenge, but a flood of disgust -rose more and more bitter from the depths of her heart. Disgust at -herself and disgust at Antonio! How cynical must he be if he could -thus disport himself in this place which knew his sin! or, if he were -innocent, how contemptible if, with the passivity of a weak man, he -could thus violate the house of his benefactress merely to amuse the -ill-regulated, hysterical woman, who that day was concealing herself -under the white dress and fashionable coiffure of Regina, his wife. - -At the bottom of her soul, however, well at the bottom, beyond -all consciousness, in its darkest, most mysterious depths, Regina -cherished a bitter satisfaction in recognising how utterly this man -belonged to herself. Always and everywhere, even in error, it was -she who dominated him. And, because of this, notwithstanding all -resentment, all disgust, even when she felt she no longer loved her -husband, even when she despised herself, thinking her soul stained -like her dress, corrupted in the soft air, the half-light, the -poisoned fragrance of that house, where, it seemed, "anything might -happen," she felt infinite pity for Antonio. And on this pity she -lived. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - -At the end of the week a telegram came from Madame, asking Antonio to -go to Albano. - -"She can't live without him," thought Regina, assailed by a spasm of -real jealousy. "I feel scruples at having merely gone into her house -in her absence, but she has no scruples, none! I won't allow him to -go!" - -She was unreasonable, and she knew it; but the delirium, the quiet -madness of doubt, had become habitual with her. - -As usual, however, she was unsuccessful in carrying out her proud -intention. When Antonio suggested she should accompany him to Albano, -she said "Yes." - -She said "Yes" up to the last moment, but on Sunday morning changed -her mind. - -"Don't you go either," she said. "If Madame wants you, why can't she -come to Rome? Are you her slave?" - -"Regina!" he said, reprovingly. - -"I am not Regina, not a queen--not even a princess! I'm sick to death -of this life we are leading! All through the week we see each other -only for a minute at a time, and now you are going away even on -Sunday!" - -"Just for once. Why won't you come too?" - -"I won't, because I don't want to. _I_ am nobody's toady, and it's -time you gave up the office yourself! Is there any more necessity for -it? If it's true our affairs are so prosperous," she went on, with -open sarcasm, "then why----" - -"There's no good discussing it with you," he interrupted, firing up. -"You're always unreasonable!" - -He set out at noon. In the afternoon Regina went for one of her rare -visits to her mother-in-law. She stayed for dinner, and once more -made part of the picture she had so detested, but now she had very -different feelings from those of old. Thinking it over, she asked -herself why that picture had appeared to her so vulgar. Merely as -types of character the personages were interesting, or at least -seemed so now. - -Arduina and Massimo discussed celebrated authors--she with real -animus, he with contempt for her. Gaspare told the conjugal -misfortunes of one of his colleagues. Signor Mario picked his teeth, -and Signora Anna lamented the terrible conduct of her servant. It -was amusing--for once in a way. The dinner was good; they drank and -laughed. Claretta admired herself in the glass, flirted with Massimo -and even with Gaspare. - -In fact, nothing in the environment had changed; yet Regina was no -longer disgusted. Claretta was less elegant than herself, and Signora -Anna took quite maternal satisfaction in pointing this out. She asked -her niece why she didn't do her hair like Regina's. - -"This suits me better," drawled the young lady, putting her hand to -her head and settling the lace butterfly which decked her locks; -"besides, it's the fashion." - -"Excuse me," said Massimo, "the women of the aristocracy do their -hair like Regina." - -"Madame Makuline, perhaps?" said Claretta, ironically. - -Regina glanced at her. Did she mean anything, the pretty cousin? Did -she know anything? - -When the others sat down to cards Regina went into the bedroom -which once had seemed to her a haunt of incubi. It was open to the -balcony, and the moon illuminated the curtains, projecting a silver -dazzle across the interior. The great bed was a white square in the -centre of the room, corners of chairs and tables caught the light, -a scent of pinks perfumed the silence and the peace of that great -matrimonial chamber, nest of humdrum _bourgeois_ felicity. Regina -thought if Antonio had brought her to Rome on a night like this, and -had introduced her into that room shining thus, wrapped in the dreams -of mid-May, nothing would have happened that had happened. - -She leaned from the balcony; pinks were at her feet; over a sweet -heaven of velvety blue passed the moon distant and melancholy, -distant and pure, like a sail lost in the immensity of the ocean of -dream. - -Naturally Regina's thoughts flew to the terrace on the shore of -the Albano lake, where rose-leaves fell like butterflies on the -iridescent mother-o'-pearl of the moonlit water. - -What was Antonio doing? Was it possible that the monstrous dream -which crushed her could have any reality? Under the infinite purity -of the heavens could such wickedness be wrought on earth? - -But when she had returned home, the incubus settled down on her -again, victor once more in that strife which too often proved her the -weaker. - -She expected Antonio by the last train. He did not come, neither did -he send an explanatory telegram. Regina waited till midnight, then -went to bed, but passed an agitated night, perhaps because for the -first time she was alone. - -Very early she had Caterina brought to her. The baby, in her little -night-dress, sat on the pillow and seemed uneasy at her father's -absence. - -"Papa?" she asked. - -"Papa isn't here. He'll come very soon, very soon, very soon! Go to -sleep. Lie down. Give me little foot--my little foot. That other one -is Papa's? Very well, you can give it to him when he comes," said -Regina, drawing the baby down. Caterina was in the habit of giving -one foot to Mamma and the other to Papa. Regina took both the little -feet, but Caterina wished to keep Papa's free. Then she touched the -lace on Regina's night-dress with her rosy finger. - -"_Ti č to?_" she asked. - -"_Questo č tuo?_--Is this yours?" translated Regina. "Yes, it's mine. -And little Caterina, whose is she? Mine, isn't she? all mine! And a -little bit Papa's; but very, very little, because Papa is naughty, -and doesn't come home, and leaves poor little Mamma all alone!" - -She relieved her mind thus, talking in baby language to the rosy -little creature; and while she made Caterina give her wee, wee, -wee, dear, dear little kisses, and felt there could be no greater -pleasure, she still thought of the monstrous visions which had -agitated her all night. Doubtless Antonio had slept at the villa on -the shore of the lake, in a room of which the window was a wondrous -picture of the landscape and the sky. And in the silence of the -night, while outside the woods, the waters, the heaven, were a poem -of beauty and purity, an odious idyl was taking place within. - -"My little, little Caterina, my pet, put your arms round me! Let us -sleep together," said Regina, laying the baby's hand on her face, and -closing her eyes, as if to exclude the evil sights. "There! shut the -little peepers! that's the way!" - -The child obeyed for a moment, but suddenly became cross, struggled, -and with her little open hand gave her mother a slap on the face. - -"Oh, how naughty!" said Regina. "I'll tell Papa, you know! You are -not to hit your Mamma! Ask my forgiveness at once; love me at once, -like this! Say, 'Dear, dear Mamma, forgive Baby! Baby will never do -it again.'" - -But Caterina struck her a second time, and Regina became really angry. - -"You are very, very naughty," she exclaimed, taking the little hand -and administering pandies. "Go away; I don't want Baby any more. Baby -isn't my little, little one any more. I don't love her. She also has -grown wicked!" - -Caterina began to cry--real tears, and this consciousness of grief, -so rare in a child, struck the young mother profoundly. - -"No, no! My baby at least shall not suffer! It is too soon!" she -thought, and again gathered the little one in her arms, smoothed her -hair, and kissed her little trembling head. - -"Come here, then! Hush! hush! hush! She won't be naughty any more. -Hush! Mamma does love her! That's my own pet! There, there! Listen! -Here comes Papa!" - -At this suggestion Caterina calmed herself by magic. Then to Regina -a thing she had already suspected was clearly revealed, and she -marvelled that she had ever doubted it. Caterina loved her father -more than she loved her mother! With that wondrous instinct of a -babe, Caterina felt that he was the kinder, the weaker, the more -affectionate of the two; that he loved her more blindly, more -passionately, than her mother loved her. Consequently, she preferred -him. - -Regina was not jealous, nor did she question if this proved her too -much or too little a mother. But that morning, in the whirl of sad -and ugly things which veiled her soul, she felt an unexpected light, -she felt that supreme sentiment of pity, which in the dissolving -of all her dreams sustained her like a powerful wing, spread, not -over herself, not over Antonio, but over their child. They two were -already dead to life, corrupted by their own errors; but Caterina was -the future, the living seed which had had its birth among withered -leaves. The soil around it must be cleared. And for the first time -she thought that, not for herself in a last vanity of sacrifice, not -for him whose soul was eternally stained, but for the child, she -_must_ draw Antonio out of the mire. - -He came back by the 7.20 train, and had scarcely time to dress, -swallow his coffee, and run to the office. - -At the midday meal he told of the wonders of Albano, of the villa, of -the night on the lake. - -"Such flowers! such roses! Marvellous! I lost the last train because -I had meant to take it at Castel Gandolfo, and Madame and Marianna -insisted on leaving the carriage and walking part of the way. You -can't imagine the splendour--the moonlight. I was thinking of you the -whole time! I didn't wire, because it was too late." - -"Is any one blaming you?" asked Regina, absently. - -"You were angry, Regina?" - -"I? Why?" - -Antonio must have seen that some distress was clouding her spirit, -for he began to talk volubly, trying to distract her. He complained -of the Princess. - -"What a nuisance she is! She made me take this journey all for -the sake of that old fur. 'Beg pardon?'" he went on, mimicking -her. "'It's not for its money value, but because it's a precious -remembrance----' Perhaps Georges Sand gave it to her! She talked of -nothing else. Even Marianna couldn't stand it, and proposed to skin -the furrier if he didn't send it back at once." - -"Did you sleep at the villa?" asked Regina, who was not listening. - -"Well, she couldn't well send me anywhere else!" - -"Oh, of course not!" said Regina, with evident sarcasm. And, without -raising her eyes from her plate, she went on, "Is Madame a Russian?" - -"Why, yes--didn't you know it?" answered Antonio, quickly. - -He said no more, but his voice had shaken with a scarce perceptible -vibration, which Regina did not fail to observe. - -Without a look, without a sign, at that moment they understood each -other, and each knew it. Regina thought Antonio's face darkened, but -she did not dare to look at him. She went on eating, and only after -a minute raised her head and laughed. Why at that moment she laughed -she never knew. - -"I was awake all night," she said; "I felt just like a widow." - -"Well, wouldn't you like to be a widow? I know quite well you don't -love me any longer," he answered, half fun, whole earnest. - -"Oh, _zielo_!" said Regina, light and cruel, imitating the cry of -heartless jest which she had heard from a spectator at a popular -theatre, "what a tragedy of a honeymoon gone wrong!" Then changing -her voice, but still satirical, "On the contrary, my dear, it's you -who want to be a widower." - -"I don't see it." - -"It's true." - -"How do you make it out?" - -"Why, what would happen if you were a widower? You'd marry again at -once. You're one of the men who can't enjoy life alone--who are no -good living alone. I'm sorry for those men." - -"You are sorry for me?" - -"I pity you heartily." - -"Why? Because I am your husband?" - -"Yes, because you're my husband. Take away!" said Regina to the maid, -pushing her plate aside contemptuously. When they were again alone, -she added, "Next time don't be so stupid as to marry a _poor_ woman." - -He looked at her, and she thought his eyes were illuminated by a -flash of anger, cold, metallic, such as she had never seen in him. - -"_I_ shouldn't know what to do with riches," he answered quietly. - -The servant reappeared at the door, and Regina was silent, struck -with a sense of chill. It appeared to her that Antonio's words had -an intention of dogged defence, a sharp and crushing reproach like a -blow. She felt herself mortally wounded. - -The strife was beginning then? For to-day they said no more. On the -contrary, after their meal they went together to their room and took -their siesta in company, and before going out Antonio kissed his wife -with his accustomed slightly languid but affectionate tenderness. - -But from henceforth Regina fancied he would be on guard ready to -defend himself at all points. - -After this they bickered continually. She found annoyance in -nothings, criticising all his little defects, and accusing him -veiledly in a manner that he ought to understand if he were guilty. -Antonio defended himself, but without too much heat, too much -offence. She could not avoid the thought that he feared to drive -her to extremities, and great sadness overwhelmed her. Why were -they each so cowardly? Why did she not dare to confront him openly, -though all within her, all her thoughts, recollections, instincts, -rose up against him and accused him? Well, at last she confessed -it to herself. She was afraid; afraid of the truth. Above all, she -was afraid of herself. She believed that nothing kept her generous, -enabled her to contemplate pardon, but the hope she was deceived. If -it were certainly true, would she pardon? Sometimes she feared she -would not. - -Most of all her own weaknesses saddened her--the contradictions -and phantasms of her sick spirit. Day by day her soul was revealed -to her. She had thought herself superior, delicate, understanding; -instead, she found she was cowardly and weak. She was like a tree -never brought under cultivation, which might have borne good fruit, -but, with its tangle of barren branches, only succeeded in throwing a -pestiferous shadow. Was it her own fault? - -However, in measure as she learned to know herself, she tried to -improve. Instinct, too, would not suffer her to persevere in a small -strife, in vulgar and inconclusive affronts. The bickering ceased and -a truce followed, the result of anguished incertitude and vain hope. - -She compared herself to a sick person, who ought to submit to a -dangerous operation, and has decided to do so, in hope of regaining -health, but who for the present prefers to suffer, and postpones the -fateful moment. - -Meanwhile the outward existence of this pair followed its equable -course, apparently tranquil, all compounded of sweet and monotonous -habits. May died, having again become pure, blue, chilly. The sky, -after a few days' rain, had taken an almost autumnal tint, beautiful -and suggestive. - -Like a vein of milk in a poisoned flood, nostalgia for her distant -home mingled with Regina's sorrow. Memory absorbed her, penetrated -to her blood with the scent of the new leaves which perfumed the -shining evenings in Via Balbo. During some walk to Ponte Nomentano -or in Trastevere, it sufficed for the splendour of silvery green -on the Aniene, or the yellow vision of the Tiber, in the depths of -the green, velvety, monotonous Campagna--like the harmonies of a -primitive music--to give her attacks of almost tragic homesickness. -But now-a-days she knew the nature of this malady--it was the vain -longing for a land of dreams lost to her for ever. - -She liked these little expeditions, which once she had despised, -calling them the silly pleasures of little _bourgeois_ resigned to -their gilded mediocrity. - -Sometimes Antonio proposed a walk beyond the Trastevere Station for -the long, luminous afternoon; and she would meet him at the Exchange. -More often they went to Ponte Nomentano, taking the baby with them, -carried on the servant's arm. Antonio would amuse himself pretending -to pursue Caterina; the maid would run and the baby contort herself -with joy, screaming like the swifts, pink with the fearful delight -of being hunted and not caught. Then Regina would linger behind, -looking at the vermilion sky, the rosy lawns, the tranquil distance, -all that grand country of aspect monotonous and solemn; like the life -of a poet who has sung immortal songs without ever having had an -adventure or committed a crime. - -And, watching Antonio running after his child, quivering himself with -innocent joy, she once again believed herself deluded in her mistrust -of him. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - -One evening, however, they were walking alone together towards Acqua -Acetosa. Making a short cut to the Viale della Regina, they crossed -certain narrow lanes beyond Porta Salaria, and Regina suddenly -stopped before an _osteria_ (tavern). - -A bright interior was visible through an open doorway. At the far end -of the room was a glass window coloured by the declining sun, and -against this luminous background passed and re-passed, light-footed -and black, a couple of dancers, dancing to the strains of a husky -concertina. A girl, pale and thin, but bright-eyed, was seated by the -door, her arm on the corner of a table, her fair hair mixing in with -the shining background. She was something like Gabrie, and dressed -like her in a pink blouse. For a moment Regina thought it was she. - -"Why, look! there's Gabrie!" - -"So it is," replied Antonio. - -They drew nearer. The girl got up, thinking them customers. She was -half-a-foot taller than Gabrie. The couple went on dancing, black and -light against the orange brilliance of the window, and Regina and -Antonio passed on. They were speaking of Gabrie. From that instant -Regina felt a vague perturbation; but she had no idea of beginning a -hateful discussion. She said, almost involuntarily-- - -"One of these days I mean to bring that poor girl with us. I hardly -ever see her, but I do so pity her. She coughs incessantly." - -"She is a poor thing; consumptive, I fancy," said Antonio. "You -shouldn't let her kiss Caterina. But why is it you don't see her?" - -"Because she's ill-natured. She does nothing but observe people and -take away their characters." - -By force of old habit, Antonio held Regina's hand in his as they -walked. Before them spread the _Viale_. Visions of depths of the -Campagna, vivid in its pure spring green, appeared in the distance -to right and left through the motionless plane-trees, against a -pearl-grey sky shot with colours from the sinking sun. The gardens -were overrun with roses and lilies, whose fragrance mingled with the -scent of herbs and of strawberries. Now and then a carriage went by -and vanished into the distance of the deserted _Viale_. - -"Who was it told me the same thing of Gabrie?" asked Antonio. - -"Marianna, perhaps?" suggested Regina, sharply. - -"I believe it was." - -"She's just the same herself. One's no better than the other; that's -what makes them friends." - -"Oh, there's no one like Marianna," said Antonio, and looked away -into the distance. - -Then, in one second, flashing and following each other like -lightning, a succession of ideas started up in Regina's mind. She -would have snatched her hand from Antonio, but fancied he might guess -her thoughts from the action, and she stiffened herself to endure -the contact. She stiffened in appearance, but her heart was beating -violently, two, three, ten, many strokes;--the hour had come! - -It seemed to her that some one, some mysterious being, black in the -sunset brilliance, had passed by smiting her heart with a hammer. And -her heart awaked from the evil stupor of the long oppression. Now she -could arise, shake herself, walk; walk, breathe, cry aloud; live, and -make a supreme effort to rid herself of the shadow, of the weight of -the incubus--or else she must fall again under that weight, under -that black shadow, and must die. - -From day to day Regina had expected this hour of conflict, yet from -day to day she had put it from her like a bitter cup. - -Now it had come, and she felt a mysterious fear. Again she would have -wished to put it off; but a strange impulse, what seemed an instinct -of self-preservation superior to her will, clutched her and forced -her to speak. - -She remembered none of the words prepared for weeks and months; only -Antonio's sentence about Marianna gave her a thread to which she -clung desperately, as to a thread which would guide her out of the -dark labyrinth. - -She had turned and turned in the maze of the evil dream, but she had -come back to the precise point where she had stood on the day of the -catastrophe. - -"No," she began, in a toneless voice; "you cannot guess how malignant -Gabrie is. Oh, much more than Marianna! Marianna sees, and sometimes -at least says nothing. But Gabrie----If you can bear it, I will tell -you something, Antonio." - -He turned round and looked at her. She looked at him. It seemed as -if for that moment they understood each other without more words. -However, she went on. - -"You will be patient?" - -He looked straight before him, indifferent, too indifferent. - -"Go on." - -"Gabrie says you are Madame Makuline's lover." - -He reddened. Anger deformed his face. He dropped Regina's hand and -flung it from him, opening his lips with gestures of astonishment and -wrath. - -"She said that to you?" he cried. - -His voice resounded in the silence of the road. - -"She told me, yes." - -He stood still. Regina stood still. Her heart beat. His hands, -hanging down, groped as if trying to lay hold of something. The -gesture is customary with actors at the dramatic moments of their -part. Regina feared that Antonio acted his part too well. Then she -thought, forcing herself to be just-- - -"If he is innocent, it's natural he should be upset." - -"And you, you----" he burst out, "did not strike her? You actually -thought of bringing her with us to-day!" - -"Antonio," exclaimed Regina, looking at him with feigned surprise, -"you promised to be patient!" - -"But it's abominable!" he said, lifting his hands. "How do you -suppose I can be patient? If you are joking let me tell you it's a -hideous joke. If what you tell me is serious, I am astounded at your -calm." - -His face paled rapidly as it had flushed, but it paled too much; it -became almost grey. - -Regina did not move an eyelash, so narrowly she was watching him. -She saw that his agitation was real, but she did not know, could not -find out, its precise cause. For some moments, however, the strong -desire that Antonio should not belie his indignation induced in her -a wave of joy. She abandoned herself to it. It was not mere desire, -it was certainty of having been deceived! Yet--an inexplicable thing -happened; the hope of having been deceived did not restore her -kindness. She became cynical--cruel. - -"Come!" she said, with bitter gaiety, "why should I be angry? why -should I strike Gabrie? Suppose she had told me the truth? Let's walk -on," she added, trying to take his arm again. - -But he repulsed her, and remained standing. - -"Let me alone! What do you mean by the truth?" - -"The fact that every one believes it, without daring to tell me, as -she dared----" - -"Every one believes it? But--Regina, do you believe it?" - -"I also!" - -"Listen to me," he said, indignant again, but with an indignation -different from the first--deeper, more scornful--"listen to me! Are -you not ashamed of yourself?" - -"Walk on," she said moving, but not trying to take his arm this time; -"don't let us make a scene in the middle of the street." - -And she walked on, blind, all involved again in the fearful shadow -from which she had thought herself freed. The momentary hope was -over. Why? She did not know. Can one know why the sky becomes -suddenly covered with cloud? - -Antonio's attitude was that of a man who is offended. He followed her -scarcely a step behind, and repeated, mechanically-- - -"You ought to be ashamed----" - -She was no longer able to abandon herself to her ardent desire of -believing him innocent. She could not!--could not! - -"Every one believes it?" repeated Antonio, walking by her side, -but not touching her. "And you tell me in this way, in the street, -suddenly, as if it were a joke! And you, you believe it yourself! And -you speak of it like this!" - -"How would you have me speak of it?" - -"At least you should have spoken sooner." - -"Perhaps I heard it to-day, a little while ago, for the first time." - -"That's impossible! You were too calm a little while ago!" - -"One can pretend," she said, with a forced smile, which furrowed her -cheek like a sign of pain. - -"A little while ago?" he repeated, closing his hand and shaking it on -a level with her face. "Then why do you say every one believes it? -Have you just learned that too? Did you hear it from that--that--I -don't know what to call her--there is no word----And you--you aren't -ashamed to demean yourself to such scandal-mongering with a creature -like that, a degenerate----You----" he continued, forcing himself to -scorn, "you, the superior woman, the exceptional fastidious woman, -the great lady--the great lady!" he repeated, raising and coarsening -his voice. - -Then Regina fired up. Sombre redness made her face from forehead -to chin a circle of fire; in their turn her hands were agitated in -tragic gesticulation. - -"Antonio, hush!" she said, not looking at him. "What do you expect? -Life is like that--stupid and vulgar. The most horrible things are -revealed by the gossip of silly women, and whole dramas are played -on the high road in the course of an evening walk. It wouldn't do if -that happened in a novel! The author would be accused of vulgarity, -if not of nonsense. In real life, on the contrary, see what happens. -The grand lady goes to a garret in Via San Lorenzo to discover the -cause of her unhappiness; the superior woman comes out into the -street to----" - -"Regina, have done! have done!" cried Antonio. "You reason too much -and too coldly for you to believe what you are saying. No, it is not -true! You do not believe it! Tell me you don't believe it!" - -And he tried to take her arm, but this time it was she who repulsed -him. - -"Let me alone! That is what you men are! If I had been another woman, -another sort of wife, I should have lain in wait for you at home, -like a tigress in her lair. I should have made a scene, one of those -scenes called _strong_, which are so pleasing at the theatre or in -a novel. Whereas, I have spoken to you quite quietly. I repeat a -thing which every one is saying, and I ask nothing better than that -we should laugh at it together. But you--you begin with noisy words, -'_aren't you ashamed_,' and '_scandal-mongering_,' and '_the great -lady_.' Yes, certainly, I am a lady; more of a lady than those other -women. It is just that I don't value conventionalities; that is the -calamity." - -"Then would you prefer me to be silent? Is that it? Don't torment me -like this, Regina! In my opinion it would have been better to have -this scene at home. Well, your jealousy is the last straw----" - -Regina laughed. Her laugh was genuine but strident, hoarse, as if -proceeding out of rusty iron. - -"My dear, you are raving! Jealousy! Come, not that!" - -"Why did you say you believed it?" - -"Did I say so? Surely not." - -"I tell you, you did say it." - -"I said I believed people believed it." - -"I don't think so," he protested. "Well, 'people' are always -malicious." - -"That, at any rate, is true. People are malicious. You see, our -position has changed; we are living comfortably in spite of our -slender income, so at once people hatch a scandal. The very excuse -you make that you have become a speculator just now, when you might -have been one all along----" - -"That is absurd!" interrupted Antonio. "I was a bachelor before, and -had more money than I knew what to do with. Besides, you are supposed -to have money of your own. No one knows that I began speculating by a -mere chance----" - -"What has all this to do with it? The world has no need to know our -affairs. Chance!" she repeated, her face darkening as she remembered -the "_chance_" in which she had so childishly believed, while -instinct had warned her of fiction, fiction clever but thin, like the -invention in a novelette. - -"What do you mean?" she went on, reassailed by a stifling wave of -rage and suspicion. "The world is malicious just because every -day, every hour, these strange chances are happening. You know the -background of life better than I do. Shame upon shame! How often have -you not yourself pointed out to me smart young men who are living on -their mistresses?" - -Antonio made no answer, and she continued-- - -"So I said to myself, 'The appearance itself that we are not living -merely on our fixed income, the excuse that you play, and have -capital at your disposal in result of a game where, as at every -game, one sometimes wins but sometimes loses, or the excuse that you -are _that woman's_ agent--confidential servant--all that has given -rise to suspicion.' What do you expect?" she repeated for the third -time. "The world is malicious. We--you--are seen for ever going to -that house. Everything is seen, commented on, suspected. Your own -relations--do you think your own relations have no doubts, make no -allusions? Why, a few days ago Claretta----" - -Having reached this point Regina became alarmed and silent. She felt -herself saying things untrue, giving form to the phantasms of her -suspicions. She had no wish to deceive. She wanted the truth. Was she -to seek it with lies? No; the truth must be sought with truth. This -was her desire, but she was unequal to achieving it. As during their -nocturnal walk along the Po, that evening of Antonio's arrival, so -now she felt a veil suspended between them. They saw, but could not -touch each other--so near were they, yet so far, separated by the -black veil of lies. Why continue this conversation woven of deceits? -Words, words! Cold, vain, vulgar words! The truth was in silence, or -at least in those words which the lying lips were unable to shape. -Regina reflected-- - -"If _I_ dare not speak my real thought, I who have nothing shameful -to conceal, how can he speak his? It is useless to insist. He will -not confess. None the less, we may come to an understanding. I will -say to him, 'Let us go back to living modestly as we did at first. -Let us break off all relation with _that woman_, and it will shut -people's mouths.' He will understand. He will return to me purified -by my silent pardon, by my delicacy. And it will be all over. How is -it I never had this happy thought before?" - -But she had no sooner formulated the "happy thought" than it seemed -to her just one of her usual romantic ideas--a phantasy on a pleasant -walk at sundown, along the paths of a spring landscape. Life was a -different matter! Reality, naked and ugly, but at least sincere, -was a different matter!--like an ugly woman who makes no effort to -deceive any one. Away, away with every veil! away with each stained -garment! They must listen to each other; they must rend every -disguise, even if it were generous and of the ideal. - -While she was hurriedly weighing these thoughts in her mind, Antonio -interrupted-- - -"And you knew all this and said nothing? Why did you say nothing? I -can't make it out. Certain things have become clear--your ill-humour, -your hints and insinuations, your obstinacy in not coming to Albano. -But I cannot comprehend your silence. Ah! how hideous all this is! -Hideous! Hideous! Certainly the world is malicious; its malice would -be monstrous if it weren't ridiculous! We needn't pay attention -to it! You are right; in a city like Rome, where anything seems -possible, and nobody believes what is said----" - -"No, we must pay attention to it," said Regina; "just because in a -city like Rome anything seems possible. It mayn't matter so much to -me, but suppose the calumny should reach the ears of my mother, down -there in that corner of a province, where the smallest things seem -gigantic! My mother has had great sorrows, but none of them could -equal this." - -"And do you suppose _my_ mother wouldn't care just as much?" -interrupted Antonio, piqued. - -"No doubt she would. But it's for you to consider your mother, I -mine! However, it shows you that even at Rome one must heed the -clatter of tongues. If it were only you and I in face of that clawing -animal, the world, I'd laugh at it. But, my dear, we aren't alone! -Caterina will grow up. And if she were to know----" - -At this he gave a cry almost wild. - -"If she were to know! But has it been _my_ fault?" - -Again Regina felt as if a stone had struck her full in the face. Yes; -if there was fault, it came home to herself! _She_ was the mother -of the evil which was stifling them. Antonio's cry was one not of -defence, but of accusation. - -She rebelled against it. - -"I admit," she said, "the fault is not entirely yours. But neither is -it all mine." - -"Who's saying the fault is yours?" - -"I have said it to myself a thousand times. Antonio, there is no -reproach that I have not made to myself. How often have I not -groaned, 'If I had not been guilty of that lightness of which I -was guilty, Antonio would not have forced himself to change our -position. He would not have become that woman's servant, not----'" - -"You said it to yourself a thousand times?" he interrupted. "Do you -mean you have been thinking of this for a long while? Why did you not -first speak to me? Why? Why? That's what I require to know!" - -"Oh, don't get angry again!" prayed Regina. "Why didn't I tell you? -Because I didn't believe it." - -"Do you mean you do believe it now? And that you waited to tell me -till exactly now, to-day, at this moment?" - -"I waited for an opportunity----" - -"Nonsense! There was no lack of opportunities--worse ones even than -this!" - -"I repeat I don't study conventionality. Another woman would have -made a scene, conjured you sentimentally to swear the truth on the -head of our child. I don't do such things. Once only I was betrayed -into a piece of dramatic nonsense. Once was enough!" - -"What has this to do with it?" he said, angrily. "You could have -spoken just as you are speaking now. Well, speak on. Say again what -you said a minute ago. You said that you reproached yourself a -thousand times as having been the cause of this--calumny. What did -you mean?" - -"You aren't listening. I reproached myself for having involuntarily -given birth to this calumny, by constraining you to become that -woman's slave. It was natural people should be suspicious. They are -suspicious also of men much richer and much less attractive than -you. Madame got rid of the others, Cavaliere R---- and Signor S----, -to make a place for you. Naturally, those men spoke ill of you. -Probably they started it. However," she continued, returning to her -first point, "remember, Antonio, that I repented of my caprice. -Remember well. I gave up all my pretensions and follies and came home -to you because I had at last understood that your love was all I -required for happiness." - -"You said so, I know. But I didn't believe you. You said it because -you pitied me. I didn't want your pity, Regina!" he went on, drawing -a deep breath, as if struggling with a sob. "Now it is I who am -playing the sentimental part, saying that you had humiliated me -overmuch because I--had not tried to content you. Shall I follow your -lead and say I am not like other men? Better or worse--who knows? -I don't set up to be _superior_, as you do" (his voice shook with -angry grief). "I'll call myself inferior, yes--a little _bourgeois_! -How often have you not thrown that in my teeth! But for that very -reason----What was I saying?" - -Regina, overwhelmed herself by a strange mingling of grief and -contempt, replied ironically-- - -"You were saying that we are two beings unlike the rest of the world, -a hero and heroine of romance, in fact. Perhaps some day Gabrie will -pick us up, as one picks mushrooms!" - -"At this moment, with your scornful superiority, you are a poisonous -mushroom!" - -Regina had been staring straight before her, with eyes lost in the -luminous distance. Now she turned to look at him, ready to make a -bitter reply. But she saw his face so grey and miserable she did not -venture to speak. What, moreover, could she say? Why continue vainly -to beat about the bush, talking of the edifice of their error, -without daring to penetrate within it? - -Antonio went on-- - -"Yes, you had humiliated me overmuch! I must say it to you once -straight out. After reading your letter I would have committed -any crime only to free myself from the insulting weight of your -reproaches. It was driving me mad. It was a degrading accusation -which you had brought against me! And I wanted to get you back--as -much out of pride as passion! To get you back, not by force, not -by love, but by money. That was my obsession. Money--money at all -costs! So I went and gambled. And I took the post which I did not -particularly admire. I offered myself to Madame. That was my crime, -because now I recognise that Cavaliere R---- was only doing precisely -what I did myself a little later." - -Regina listened and was silent, but she shook her head. He was lying, -still lying. He was accusing himself of venial errors to make her -believe him innocent of his real sin. Lies--always lies; and yet---- - -"I thought you had perhaps repented and would come home; but by -this time I knew you! Your letter, your manner, had revealed your -character. You would come home to live with me, perhaps resigned, -perhaps not, but certainly unhappy. And I was ready to give my blood -to prevent that! I wanted you happy. I loved you, Regina, just for -your pretensions, which proved you the delicate, fastidious creature, -above me by birth and by breeding. Who, you say, can know the dark -secrets of his own heart? In a few days I had become another man. I -dared to improve my position. I succeeded. And now you blame me for -what I have done for you--only for you!" - -Regina made no answer. He also kept silence, perhaps thinking her -convinced. They went on a little way. A light-haired man, dressed -like a Protestant minister, had come up with them, and walked by -their side. Carts, laden with bottles, passed, and carriages going to -Acqua Acetosa. - -Regina thought-- - -"He doesn't want my pity. He was driven mad by humiliation! I see. -Perhaps he thought I should come home only to torment him, and -that presently I should desert him again. And I am still trying to -persuade myself he is innocent, while he doesn't even know how to -keep up the lie! Yet he has been lying for two years, every day, -every hour, every minute. How, how has he been able to do it? Well, -and wasn't I brooding over my project of flight secretly for days -and for months? Was not that also treason? And are we not both lying -now? Why all these vain words, these _sous-entendus_, if we are not -each in turn trying to deceive the other? What is he thinking at this -moment? What do I know of his soul, or he of mine? We have always -mistaken each other, and we mistake more than ever at this moment. -No, we do not know each other. We are more of strangers to one -another than to that man passing along at our side. We have shared -our bed and our board, we have a child, part of ourselves, and yet -we are strangers! We are enemies--we offend each other; each in our -turn, we hide that we may wound deeper!" - -"Shall we go back by Ponte Molle, or by the way we went the last -day?" asked Antonio. - -"There might be a carriage down there, perhaps?" said Regina. - -"To go back!" she thought, in profound desolation. "To take up our -life of deception and shame! No, I will not! I will not! It must not -go on!" - -And at last she felt the courage to bring in the end that very day. - -Her resolution calmed her. She seemed to lift her head, to open her -eyes, to see again round her the beauties of Nature, the purifier. -Just here the road broadened out. Never had she seen the Campagna so -beautiful, so splendidly and magically coloured. It seemed a picture -by a luminist painter--a green landscape with detached pines waving -against the dazzling background of crimson and gold, an exaggeration -of light, in whose intensity the figures of the passers-by, the -half-naked vendors of the spa water, the mounted soldiers, the -beggars lying in wait at the cross roads, stood out like bronze -statues. - -Regina had taken her resolution, but at the cross roads it sufficed -her to note the angry movement with which Antonio flung a coin to the -beggars to understand that her husband was still offended, and to -revive her forlorn hope of his innocence. - -They took the short cut. Up and down, up and down by a little path, -dark, fragrant, part warm grass, part sand. The Protestant pastor, -who seemed uncertain of the way, followed them. - -The sun was sinking, silver on the gold horizon; over the flushed -grass, the shadows of the pines grew long; the eastern sky took -opaque tones--the ashy violet of a pastel. For a moment Regina could -have believed herself in the mountains. She could see no more than -the path mounting through grass to the low summit, all green against -the luminous void. Up and up! The free breath of spring restored -the natural colour to Antonio's face. Spring is intolerant of ugly -people. The countenance of the fair young minister became like a pink -peony, scarcely opened. - -But here they were at the low summit, and from it appeared the azure -vision of the real mountains. - -That day the picture of the Acqua Acetosa had a character almost -biblical. Men were sleeping on the grass beside their carts, in which -the load of flasks sparkled in the sun; women, children, many dogs, -a little black donkey, were all so still as to seem painted on the -green background of the Tiber; a line of scarce distinguishable sheep -were coming down to the river to drink; boats rocked softly among -the bushes of the bank. A soft breeze diffused the perfume of the -flowering elders. - -While Antonio and Regina were descending the steps cut out on the -hillside, a carriage arrived laden with five foreign ladies wearing -the usual impossible little hats made of one ear of corn, a poppy, -and a bunch of gauze. The lady who got out last began a dispute with -the driver. - -"Everywhere these horrible foreigners!" said Regina, nervously, and -let Antonio go down to the fountain by himself. - -She made her way to the river-bank, far up beyond the excise -official's hut. He was walking about before the tavern, and the point -to which Regina advanced remained completely solitary. Low noises -reached her, overpowered by the song of the larks and the music of a -streamlet gurgling at the bottom of a cleft near by. In the hedge -leaves rustled like the _frou-frou_ of silk, and the elder-flowers, -already over-blown but still sweet and rosy in the sun, leaned -forward as if to listen to the gurgle of the water. Beyond the cleft -a mass of greyish flowers covered the declivity; below the Tiber -rolled on, clear, calm, imperial. The reflection of the setting -sun crossed an angle of the river, making an enormous, trembling, -fiery serpent across the water, which seemed brought to a halt on -its incandescent back. Sparkles of gold caught fire, went out, and -lighted up again, swiftly, irrepressibly, where the reflection of the -sun terminated. Everything suggested the illusion of a fight between -the water and the raging fire in the river's depths. Far off, where -the sky grew pale, the water had conquered and was already spreading -the solemn sadness of its ashy calm. - -Of course Regina thought of her own distant river. She sat on the -rough grass of the declivity and waited. - -Never had she felt quieter and stronger than at that hour. As over -the river so over her soul, ashy calm was advancing, subduing the -vain fire of passion. An old thought started afresh into her mind. - -"Every hour will come. This one has come, and others, and others -are on their way, and at last the hour of death. Why do we torment -ourselves? My life and Antonio's from henceforth will be like a faded -garment; yes, like this----!" she said, drawing round her feet the -edge of her white but soiled dress. "Well? that means that we shall -wear it more contemptuously, but also more comfortably, without -considering it so much--thus!" she cried aloud, casting her skirt's -hem away from her, over the rough, sand-covered grass. - -She looked if Antonio were coming. For some moments he had been -speaking with the owners of the five little hats. Then Regina saw him -take them down, down, as far as to one of the boats moored at the -bank. The boatman ran up, spoke with Antonio, and presently the boat -laden with the five little hats was on her way to Ponte Molle. - -Then Antonio looked round for his wife and came to her with his -swift, light step. - -"I put them in the boat partly that we might get their carriage," he -said, throwing himself on the grass at her side. "I hope I haven't -made you jealous, Regina, now you've begun at it!" - -His voice was gay; too gay. - -"On the contrary, I hope I have done with it," she said coldly. "If -you have no objection, we will speak further and end the matter." - -"Oh, I knew we'd have to go on! Well, speak!" he said, kicking at a -branch of elder. "To begin with, tell me what were the allusions, the -insinuations made by my cousin--by my relations--by every one, in -fact--as a treat----" - -Regina watched the nervous movement of Antonio's hand. Her eyes had -again become sweet, soft, child-like, but with the sweetness of -childish eyes when they are sad. - -"Listen, dear," she began, and her voice also was sweet but sad; -"don't let _us_ fall into scandal-mongering. If the thing isn't true, -what does it matter? If it is true----" - -"If it were true----" he interrupted, raising his head, while his -hand still shook. Regina was silent not looking up. "What would you -do? Would you leave me again?" - -She shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. - -"_If it is true._ Then you are still supposing it! Ah, that's what I -cannot endure, Regina! It means you don't believe me. It means the -malicious words of some stranger have more value for you than mine!" - -She was tempted to reply, "And are not you a stranger to me?" but -dared not yet. - -"Yes, yes! I see that's what it is!" he went on, despairingly. "Now -this suspicion has got into your head, now, now you believe me no -longer! But I hope to cure you, see! I _hope_. Begin by telling me -everything. You ought to tell me, you ought, do you hear? It concerns -your honour--everybody's honour. Tell me! tell me!" - -She shook her head. - -"What is the use?" - -"Tell me all," he commanded. "There's a limit to my patience also!" - -"Don't raise your voice, Antonio! The excise officer is there. Don't -be so _small_!" - -"Have done with your own smallness! I am small; yes, I'm small, and -that's just the reason why I want to know! You see, you are driving -me mad! Tell me! I insist." - -Regina turned and looked at him. Her eyes, large and melancholy, -sparkled in the reflection of the sunset. Never had Antonio seen them -more beautiful, sweeter, deeper. At that moment he was overpowered -by some sort of fascination and could not turn away from those eyes, -burning and sad like the dying sun. Regina said-- - -"And when I shall have told you everything you want to know, what -will you do? How will you know, how do I know, if the things I have -heard are or are not real illusions, evil surmises? or whether the -doubt has not come of my own instinct?" - -"But a few minutes ago you said you didn't believe it! I don't -understand you, Regina!" - -"And I, do I understand you? Can we understand each other? Think, -Antonio, think. Have we ever understood each other? How do I know you -speak the truth? How do you know I speak the truth? Look," she said, -stretching her hand towards the Tiber; "we seem near to each other, -while, on the contrary, we are distant as the banks of this river, -which for ever gaze at each other, but will never come into touch!" - -"For pity's sake, finish it!" he said, bitterly, but supplicatingly -and humbly. "Be merciful, my dear, and don't torment me. Don't say -these horrible things. It's very possible I don't understand you, -but you, you _ought_ to understand me. Let us discuss, let us see -together what is to be done. I--I will do whatever you wish. Haven't -I always done so? Am I not good to you? Do you say I am not good -to you? Tell me what I am to do, but don't doubt me! It's the last -straw. If we lose our peace, our concord, what is there left for us?" - -He spoke softly, humbly, almost sweetly, but with that sweetness one -employs towards a sick and fractious child. He took her hand and -laid it on his knee, and on it he laid his own. Regina felt his hand -pulsing and vibrating, but its fondness no longer had power to stir -her blood. - -Yes, it was undeniable. He had always done her will. He was the weak -one, and this was at once his crime and his defence. Yes, he was -kind, too kind. He had given her in sacrifice not his spirit only, -but his body; this miserable mortal flesh he had sold for her. He -had given her all; he would still give her all. In a moment, if she -demanded it of him, he would confess his shame. How could she have -doubted it? Then she told him the whole story. - -"Listen. One day I went to see Gabrie, who had been ill----" - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - -She told him all with brief, quiet words. She spoke softly, her eyes, -her fingers, resting on the embroidery of her dress. She seemed the -guilty one, but dignified in her error, ready to be punished. She -told of her doubts, how they had swelled and flamed. She repeated -the reproaches she had made to herself, described her visions, her -delirious cruelty, her suspicions, the dream, the presentiment, her -intention of pardon. - -Meanwhile the sun went down. The golden serpent withdrew to the -shore, following the sparkling veil of victorious water. The river -was divided into two zones--one of tender violet under the pale -heaven of the east, the other blood-stained beneath the burning west. - -But in water and sky the conflict was ended between the colours and -the lights. All was unified and confounded into one supreme harmony -of peace. The light had re-entered into the shadow; the shadow still -sought the light. The pale water floated into the luminous zone, and -the glowing waves retreated slowly towards a mysterious distance, -beyond the horizon, whither the human gaze could not follow. - -The crowd of grey flowers slept on, motionless on the declivity. The -leaves were silent; everything had become drowsy, lulled by the -simple song of the trickle in the depth of the miniature abyss. - -And in all this harmonious silence, Regina, as she ended her tale, -_felt_ the solemn indifference of nature for man and for his paltry -fortunes. - -"We are alone," she concluded, taking suggestion from this impression -of solitude and abandonment; "alone in the world of our sins, if -there is really such a thing as sin. Let us pity, each in our -turn, and renew our existence. If we are at war, who will help us? -Our relations, our friends, might die for us without their death -bringing our suffering one moment of relief. I once read of a husband -who wished to kill his wife. At the moment he tried to wound her -she--bewildered--flung herself on his breast, instinctively seeking -his protection against the murderer. How often have not I, in those -days of doubt, while--to my shame--I was spying upon you, while I -was wrestling with the idea of turning to strangers that I might -know--_know_--how often have I not felt the impulse to come to you, -to pray you to speak, to save, to protect me! See! Nature herself is -indifferent to us at this moment, while, perhaps, our whole future is -being decided. Every atom, every sparkle, every wave, runs to its own -destiny without attending to us. We are alone; alone and lost. If we -separate, where shall we go? and, moreover, if we did wrong, was it -not precisely that we might not be separated?" - -"But," said Antonio, with one last attempt at defence, "you once -wished----" - -And Regina felt a final touch of impatience. She was speaking as he -ought to have spoken, and was he still resisting? What did he want? - -"There's no good in beginning all over again!" she cried. "This is -enough. It seems to me that already I am reasoning too much for you -to understand that between you and me there is no longer room for -reproaches." - -"Yes, Regina," he sighed; "you reason too much, and that is what -terrifies me!" - -His eyes sank. He looked at his hand, raised it, and let it fall -heavily on Regina's, which he had retained all this while on his knee. - -"Why do I reason too much? Why are you terrified?" - -"Because if you really believed in my guilt you would not speak as -you are speaking. You speak like this because you do not believe -it--yet----" - -She felt her heart beat. He was right! But she summoned her forces -and overcame herself. - -"Look at me!" she commanded. - -Antonio looked at her. His eyes were veiled in tears. - - * * * * * - -Then it was true. - -Regina had never seen her husband weep, nor had she ever imagined he -could weep. - -At that moment, when everything darkened within her, not in swift -passing eclipse, but in unending twilight, a confused recollection -came to her of something far off--so far off that for years and years -it had not returned to her mind. She saw again a man seated before a -burning hearth. This man crouched, his elbows on his knees, his face -on his hands, and he wept; while a woman bent over him, her hand laid -on his bald head. - -The man was her father, the spendthrift; the woman her patient mother. - -Was it a dream? or a reality of her unconscious infancy, far away, -forgotten? She did not know; but at that moment in the shadow of her -soul a light appeared, rose-red like the reflection of the burning -hearth in that distant picture of human error and of human pity. - -She did not think of laying her hand on her husband's head as her -mother had laid hers on the head of that father who, perhaps, had -been more guilty than Antonio; but she remembered the serene and -beautiful life of that woman who had fulfilled her cycle as all -good women must fulfil theirs, mid the love of her children and for -their sake. Never had the widow made those sad memories to weigh -upon her children. If they suffered, as by law of nature all born of -woman must suffer, the memory of her did not add to their grief, but -softened it. - -"And I, too," thought Regina, "must fulfil my cycle. Our child must -never know that we have suffered and have erred." - -So she must pardon; more than ever she must pardon! Like the waters -of the river, she must pass silently towards the light of an horizon -beyond the earth, towards the sea of infinite charity, where the -greatest of human errors is no more than the remembrance of an -extinguished spark. - - * * * * * - -They came home in the carriage left by the five foreigners. A tender -and transparent twilight had fallen around and within them. Resigned -to the Nostalgia of a light lost for ever, not joyous nor very sad, -like husband and wife re-united after a long separation, they clasped -each other by the hand, silently promising to help each other as one -helps the blind. - -Thus they returned into the circle of the city and of the past. - -It seemed to Regina that a long time, a whole period of life, had -passed since she and her husband had stopped before the wayside -tavern. But, returning, as their driver pulled up at the same place -to light his lamps, she saw the girl in the pink blouse still sitting -by the inside door, and the couple, light-footed and black against -the background of golden glass, were at their dancing still. - - -THE END - - - - -RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, - -BREAD STREET HILL, E.C., AND - -BUNGAY, SUFFOLK. - - - - -CHAPMAN AND HALL'S NEW BOOKS - - -_ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY_ - - =MY LIFE: A RECORD OF EVENTS AND OPINIONS.= By ALFRED - RUSSEL WALLACE, Author of 'Man's Place in the Universe,' - 'Darwinism,' 'Geographical Distribution of Animals,' 'Natural - Selection and Tropical Nature,' 'The Malay Archipelago.' With - numerous Portraits, Illustrations, Facsimile Letters, etc. - Two Vols. Demy 8vo, 25_s._ net. - - It is anticipated that this work will be one of the most - important publications of the autumn season. Besides - giving full and extremely interesting details of the great - scientist's early life and education, his first inclination - and attraction towards science, and an anecdotal narrative of - his travels on the Amazon and in the Malay Archipelago, it - relates the historic incidents connected with his association - with Darwin, gives full accounts of all the people he met, - and a very particular history of his investigation of - Spiritualism and the various controversies involved by his - theories. The book is written in a fascinatingly open and - candid style, and is sure to be widely read. - -_THE LATEST TRIUMPH OF SCIENCE_ - - =THE ORIGIN OF LIFE: Its Physical Basis and Definition.= By - J. BUTLER BURKE. With Photographs, Diagrams, etc. Demy 8vo, - 16_s._ net. - - While experimenting at the Cavendish Laboratory, Cambridge, - to determine the effect of radium on sterilised bouillon, - Mr. Burke recently found that he could secure the apparently - spontaneous generation of growths, resembling bacteria, but - which were neither bacteria nor crystals. They were termed - "Radiobes." These bodies have since been examined by many - eminent men of science, to whom they appear to be in a - critical state between the vegetable and mineral kingdoms. - - This discovery has since been the subject of extensive - comment in the publications of practically every civilised - country. It is believed to be of such importance that by - many it is acclaimed to be one of the great scientific - achievements of the age, and no doubt will rank as one of the - few supremely important discoveries for all time. - - Mr. Burke has put the results of his investigations and - discovery into a book, and there is little doubt that it will - be eagerly looked forward to by the whole of the scientific - world, and its importance cannot be easily estimated. - -_A NEW WORK BY W. H. MALLOCK_ - - =THE RECONSTRUCTION OF BELIEF.= By W. H. MALLOCK, Author of - 'Religion as a Credible Doctrine.' Demy 8vo, 12_s._ net. - - Mr. Mallock's book will appeal to all thinking men and women - who are interested in the subject of Religious Belief, and - who care for scholarly discussion set out in a distinguished - style. In his preface he says: "In two volumes which I have - published during the last four years, I have in different - ways attempted the same two things--firstly, to show the - futility of the methods employed by the religious thinkers - of to-day, in their attempt to liberate religion from the - negative conclusions of science; and secondly, to point out, - or rather suggest the outlines of a method which, for this - purpose, is likely to prove more profitable. In _Religion as - a Credible Doctrine_, the treatment was purely argumentative. - In _The Veil of the Temple_ the questions dealt with were - exhibited in their relation to the life of every day, and - the interests and characters of people who are anything but - professed thinkers: but in both of the volumes the negative - position was dealt with at greater length than the positive. - In the present volume these proportions are reversed. It - begins, indeed, with a short summary which exhibits the - strength of the negative arguments, but the larger part is - occupied with the attempted work of construction." - - -_A FASCINATING HISTORICAL MONOGRAPH_ - - =WILHELMINA, MARGRAVINE OF BAIREUTH.= By EDITH E. CUTHELL. - With numerous Portraits. Two Vols. Demy 8vo, 21_s._ net. - - This is a romantic story from real history, dealing with a - highly talented woman of the eighteenth century who moved - in Continental Courts and founded the fortunes of the town - of Baireuth. It is constructed entirely from fresh material - gathered from documents hitherto unknown, and gives a bright - and spirited picture of Court life on the Continent one - hundred years ago. - -_AN ILLUSTRATED HISTORY OF JAVA_ - - =JAVA: FACTS AND FANCIES.= By AUGUSTA DE WITT. With 160 - Illustrations. Demy 8vo, 14_s._ net. - - A splendidly illustrated volume dealing with all phases - of Javanese life, history, and character. The author - adopts a narrative style, avoiding the stolid, dry-as-dust - particulars, and attempts to give a picturesque account of - the daily round of life of the people of Java--their domestic - life, manners and customs, religious beliefs and marriage - rites, their sports and amusements, including their primitive - efforts at drama; the book deals fully with the Flora and - Fauna of the country, and the wonderful scenery is charmingly - described; whilst the agricultural and commercial value of - the island are adequately insisted upon. The illustrations - are plentiful and attractive, and add immeasurably to the - book's value. - -_A CHARMING AND STANDARD BOOK ON LACE_ - - =THE LACE BOOK.= By N. HUDSON MOORE, Author of 'The Old - China Book,' 'The Old Furniture Book,' etc. With Seventy - Engravings, showing specimens of Lace, or its wear in famous - Portraits, with Border by C. E. CARTWRIGHT, and Decorations - after BODONI. 4to, 21_s._ net. - - This is a handsomely illustrated history of lace from the - earliest times. It is divided into five parts, dealing - respectively with the Growth of Lace, Italian Lace, French - and Spanish Laces, and English and Irish Lace. In the - introductory part, the author traces the whole history of - lace manufacture in all countries in an exhaustive manner and - gives full details of the different styles of lace of the - various periods. - - The illustrations are an important feature in the book. - Besides reproductions of every imaginable style of lace work, - there are many illustrations of notable personages of history - wearing robes and garments which exhibit some remarkable lace - of their period. - -_A REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION_ - - =RUSSIA IN REVOLUTION.= By G. H. PERRIS. With numerous - Illustrations. Demy 8vo, 10_s._ 6_d._ - - This is a revised edition containing an additional chapter - bringing the history of the tragic events in Russia up to - the present date. The book is a valuable and indispensable - one for all who desire to know the position of affairs - in Russia, and how and why they have reached the present - crisis. "A plain unvarnished tale," says the _Standard_; "the - substantial accuracy of the terrible facts and statistics - marshalled in these pages cannot be seriously challenged." - - -_AN IMPORTANT NEW WORK ON HEREDITY_ - - =THE PRINCIPLES OF HEREDITY.= By G. ARCHDALL REID, Author of - 'The Present Evolution of Man,' 'Alcoholism: its Cause and - Cure,' etc. Demy 8vo, 12_s._ 6_d._ net. - - "A work distinguished alike for incisiveness of diction, - originality of thought, and cogency of argument. It is - difficult to controvert any of the main conclusions, and - every medical man should study it carefully."--_The Lancet._ - - "This is a book which no intelligent student of human - affairs, whether he be a biologist or no, can possibly afford - to ignore. In knowledge, in style, in method, in purpose, in - logical power, in every necessary or desirable character, it - is a model of what such a treatise should be."--_The Outlook._ - -_A NEW BOOK BY THE AUTHOR OF 'HONORIA'S PATCHWORK'_ - - =A COAT OF MANY COLOURS.= Woven from Honoria's Letters to - the Best Friend, and Patched with Pieces from a Certain - Note-Book. By the Author of 'Honoria's Patchwork.' With - numerous Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 6_s._ - - Those who admired _Honoria's Patchwork_, published last - year, will be glad to be again in her delightful company, - surrounded by her friends, to be interested again in her - household duties, her cultured conversation and views on - books, pictures, and kindred subjects, and to once more - sojourn for a time in her charming Homemead. _A Coat of Many - Colours_ will be found to be as fresh, as sincere, and as - intimately personal as the _Patchwork_, and will be fully - illustrated by reproductions from charming photographs. - -_AN EDITION DE LUXE, WITH COLOURED PLATES, OF_ - - =THE FIELDS OF FRANCE.= By MADAME MARY DUCLAUX (A. MARY F. - ROBINSON ). With Twenty Illustrations in Colour by W. B. - MACDOUGALL. Crown 4to, 21_s._ net. - - It may be justly said that Madame Duclaux's book on rural - France has become a classic. Its interest and value was in no - way ephemeral, for in it Madame Duclaux gives the sense of - that wonderful world of out-of-doors which seems fading from - the horizon of the modern town-dweller. "The little book," - said the _Daily Telegraph_, "presents a perfect gallery of - pictures, a sort of literary complement to Corot and Millet." - - It is a book eminently suited for illustration, and Mr. - MacDougall spent a long period in the districts dealt with - in the volume in making a series of artistic paintings which - are reproduced by the best colour process. Unlike many such - books, the paintings were done to illustrate the text and not - the text written to the pictures. - -_THE WIT AND WISDOM OF DICKENS_ - - =THE BOZ BIRTHDAY BOOK.= Compiled by J. W. T. LEY, Secretary - of the Dickens Fellowship. Containing an Index to Subjects - and a Portrait of Dickens. Crown 8vo, 3_s._ 6_d._ net, cloth; - in leather, 5_s._ net. - - In compiling this Dickens Birthday Book, Mr. Ley's aim has - been to combine usefulness with ornament. That is to say, - every quotation expresses some sentiment on some phase of - life, on men or things, and with the aid of the Subject Index - appended, the volume forms a useful reference book of Dickens - quotations. The source is invariably given, and when the - sentiment is given expression to by a character, the name of - that character is added. Two quotations are given for every - day in the year, and the book is a compendium of Dickens's - wit, humour, and pathos. - - -_ANDREW LANG ON 'EDWIN DROOD'_ - - =THE PUZZLE OF DICKENS'S LAST PLOT.= By ANDREW LANG. With - Illustrations by LUKE FILDES, R.A. Crown 8vo, 2_s._ 6_d._ - net. - - In this book Mr. Andrew Lang attempts to discover the - intention of Dickens as to the "mystery of Edwin Drood," - left unsolved by the death of the author. The question is, - was Edwin Drood slain by his uncle, John Jasper, as Jasper - himself certainly believed; and, if Edwin escaped, how did he - escape, and how would Jasper be unaware of his own failure - to murder his nephew? There are other subsidiary puzzles of - which solutions are offered. - - The original cover of _Edwin Drood_, with two of Luke - Fildes's original illustrations, are reproduced for the - purpose of identifying the portraits and costumes of the - persons in the romance. - -NEW 6s. NOVELS BY POPULAR AUTHORS - - -_BY THE AUTHOR OF 'JEMINA,' 'THE OTHER SON,' etc._ - - =OXENDALE.= By ELLA MACMAHON, Author of 'A New Note,' etc., - etc. Crown 8vo, 6_s._ - -_BY THE AUTHOR OF 'THE SILVER KEY'_ - - =BEGGARS' LUCK.= By NELLIE K. BLISSETT, Author of - 'Bindweed,' etc. Crown 8vo, 6_s._ - -_A FAMOUS ITALIAN NOVEL_ - - =NOSTALGIA.= By GRAZIA DELEDDA, Author of 'Cenere,' etc. - Translated by HELEN HESTER COLVILL. - -_BY THE AUTHOR OF 'LOVE THE ATONEMENT'_ - - =SPIRITUAL ADVENTURES.= By FRANCES CAMPBELL, Author of 'Two - Queenslanders and their Friends.' - -_BY THE AUTHOR OF 'JOHN WESTACOTT'_ - - =THE INSEPARABLES.= By JAMES BAKER, Author of 'The Gleaming - Dawn,' 'Mark Tillotson,' etc. - -LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, LTD. - - * * * * * - -TRANSCRIBER NOTES - -Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs= - -A number of words in this book have both hyphenated and -non-hyphenated variants. For those words, the variant more frequently -used was retained. The book also contains vernacular conversation in -Italian. - -Obvious punctuation errors were fixed. - -Other printing errors, which were not detected during the revision of -the printing process of the original book, have been corrected. - -A Table of Content was added after the author's preface. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Nostalgia, by Grazia Deledda - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOSTALGIA *** - -***** This file should be named 53905-8.txt or 53905-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/0/53905/ - -Produced by Andrés V. Galia, Chris Curnow and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -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/license - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at -809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit http://pglaf.org - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |